Original subtitles

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Female, white, about 21.

She was conscious when she went into the water.

Probably suicide.

Ah, she's not the girl I'm looking for, Adam.

About the right age.

Well, that's why I called you.

Thought she might be when they brought her in this morning.

Sorry to drag you downtown.

Adam... Hmm?

Let me look at that girl again.

I thought you said she wasn't the one

you were hired to find.

She's not, but, uh... that face,

I've seen it before.

Open it up again, Don.

You know her?

Carol Wilson.

Girl about town.

The best places, the best men.

A couple of months ago, she dropped out of circulation.

She didn't belong to just anybody anymore.

She belonged to one man... Alec Ryan.

The swinging attorney.

Interesting, huh?

What's that you always heard about chickens?

They, uh, they do come home, don't they?

Oh, I read you, Joe.

Listen, you forget about it.

I don't care if Alec Ryan did bum rap you once

and get your license suspended for six months.

A man who has contempt for the law sooner or later

has got to break it.

So far, no law's been broken,

by Alec Ryan or anybody else.

There's a girl who walked into the water, period.

Yeah, that's your story, Sergeant.

I say she was pushed.

Where?

Is that in Beverly?

Thanks. I'll try there.

Any lead on Ryan?

The great jet-set mouthpiece

isn't coming into his office these days.

The house in Palm Springs is buttoned up tight.

No one there but a caretaker,

and the pad in Malibu is being rented

by a vacationing evangelist.

Well, we'll keep at it.

If you do get a lead, call me.

I'll be at the LAPD with Sergeant Tobias.

Oh, thanks.

Uh, who's the client in this one?

Just so I'll know who to bill.

There's no client, Peggy.

Purely a labor of love.

Uh, do you mind if I say something?

You're acting a little uptight.

Yeah, well, it's an uptight world, Peggy.

The Carol Wilson autopsy report.

Sorry, Joe. No marks on her.

She wasn't sauced.

She was drowned and in saltwater

about 11:00 last night.

Hey, Tom, what about this stuff under her fingernails?

Well, that's a variety of algae.

So she was struggling when she was in the water.

Must have been grabbing for something.

Well, people can throw themselves in the water

and change their minds in midair, you know that.

Yeah, but the girl who was pushed in

can also put up a fight.

I'll get it.

Pathology lab.

Oh, hi, Peggy.

Yeah, he's here.

Yeah, Peggy?

Yeah, good, good. Yeah, thanks, Peg.

Alec Ryan.

He's on his boat at the marina.

Thanks for everything.

Joe, listen, I know you'd love

to bust Alec Ryan on a murder one.

Okay, you don't like him.

I don't like him, and half the country doesn't like him,

but there's no scientific evidence of violence

or foul play in Carol Wilson's death.

I think he murdered her.

There is no murder, Joe!

Is that what that lab full of instruments tell you?

Yeah, instruments with no personal grudge

against Alec Ryan or anyone else.

Well, Adam, you stick to your instruments.

Now me, I don't fly by instruments.

I'm like those old barnstorming pilots

who flew by the seat of their pants.

They're all dead, Joe.

The seat of their pants flew them right

into the side of a mountain.

What a way to go.

♪ ♪

Excuse me, miss...

Is Mr. Ryan around?

Alec, someone to see you.

Mona, go practice your crawl.

She practically lives in the water.

Sometimes I think she has gills.

How have you been, Mannix?

Getting by.

I hear that you've gone back

to pursuing your dreary little profession.

A lot drearier when you're barred from pursuing.

We all stub a toe occasionally.

Or we're tripped.

Well, I hope you don't hold a grudge.

You were doing your thing, I was doing mine.

Only you did yours a little harder and dirtier.

Well, I assume you're snooping around

on behalf of some client?

Something like that.

You claiming privilege or will you tell me who it is?

Her name is Carol Wilson.

Know her?

At one time we were quite close.

Why? Is she in trouble?

Not now.

She's dead.

Well, I'm sorry to hear that.

Would you like something?

Some coffee?

No, thanks.

Her body was washed up on shore this morning.

She wasn't dressed for swimming.

The police figure maybe suicide.

Maybe?

How well did you know her?

Well, I suppose you'd find out sooner or later.

She got quite a bit of sun out here last summer.

Got a certain amount of moonlight, too.

And after the summer?

I broke rule number one of the yachtsman's code:

Never introduce your girl to a man with a bigger boat.

When was that?

Six, eight weeks ago.

August. When in August?

Would you believe it? I didn't write it down.

And you haven't seen her since?

No.

I don't know what else I can tell you about her.

She was a beautiful girl.

Unfortunately, that was also her profession:

beautiful girl.

Who, uh, is the man who has

the bigger boat?

A client.

You claiming privilege, counselor?

It hardly falls under the attorney-client relationship.

It was the tycoon's tycoon, Warren Nichols.

You still his lawyer?

Mm-hmm.

Warren Nichols pays me an annual retainer

in excess of $100,000.

Perhaps that doesn't give him the right to steal my girl,

but it makes it an awful lot easier to take.

Last night, I don't suppose you left your boat?

I had no reason to.

Go ahead, ask her.

Call her over.

She can make it in ten seconds.

She's a fish.

My name is Mannix.

I'm a private detective.

It's important I speak to Mr. Nichols.

Mr. Nichols is not at home.

You know where he can be reached?

No. Please go away now.

You're upsetting the dogs.

Sorry.

And it's important that the new cam be installed...

You're Mr. Mannix, as it says outside.

Yes.

I'm Brett Nichols.

You wouldn't by any chance be Mrs. Warren Nichols?

That's right.

I know your dogs.

Oh, uh, this is my secretary Peggy Fair.

How do you do?

I think you can type up that letter now, if you want, Peggy.

I guess I want.

Please, sit down.

Interesting, isn't it,

that we should have so much in common.

We have?

Well, you've been trying to reach my husband,

and I'm here for the same reason.

You mean your husband is missing?

I think so.

You don't know?

Well, he could know where he is, I don't.

I haven't heard from him in three days

and that's a new record.

A new record?

What was the old?

Is that important?

Is it important enough not to tell me?

Well, it might help if I knew your first name.

Mrs. Nichols...

what has my first name got to do with anything?

Well, I mean, if we're going to talk about

anything so personal as my marriage,

we, uh... we shouldn't be so formal.

It's Joe.

Well, Joe,

Warren and I have been married ten years, it's...

Well, and for the last nine years,

we've been playing a little game.

You know, he's away a lot of the time,

but he calls every night

and tells me where he is and what he's doing,

and I pretend to believe him.

But you know he's lying.

Of course.

And he knows I know.

But hat's the way the game's played.

You must be worried about him, otherwise you wouldn't be here.

Well, not exactly worried.

Curious.

This time he's been away three days

and he hasn't once phoned in his nightly lie.

I'd just like to know the reason.

What's funny?

You.

Oh, not funny, uh... unusual.

What's usual?

Well, when a woman comes in to tell me

her man hasn't been home,

she usually acts pretty hysterical.

Well, I'm sorry I don't fit the usual pattern, Joe.

Oh, don't be sorry.

The one who carried on the loudest

turned out to have put her husband in the incinerator.

You're wasting your time, Joe.

Warren didn't keep anything here

but his out-of-season clothes and this third-best razor.

Well, there've got to be business records some place.

Not here.

Well, where's his office?

Haven't you ever heard the legend of Warren Nichols,

the billionaire hermit? Hm?

No office.

I don't buy legends.

It's true.

And there's never anything in his pockets, Joe.

I've looked.

What happens if some of the troops

want to get in touch with the man?

Suppose they have to have an answer real fast

or say drop a couple of million dollars?

They talk to the man's attorney.

Alec Ryan.

What's this?

My picture.

Warren's idea of my picture.

A sentimental man, no?

It's my application for a job as his secretary.

It's a simple letter written by a simple girl

just out of secretarial school.

That's how we met.

I came for an interview,

and he gave me some letters to type.

It was about 7:00 before I finished,

so he asked if I could stay overnight.

He said he might have some more letters.

I said I couldn't possibly do that.

And he asked if it would make a difference if we were married.

I said yes.

So the man married you.

We flew to Yuma that night.

Romantic, isn't it?

Mm.

You didn't really know him.

I knew he was good- looking and charming

with several hundred million dollars.

At those prices, I figured

whatever was wrong, I could change.

And I did.

I changed.

A lot.

Would you like a drink?

Or don't you drink on the job?

My job is being Mrs. Warren Nichols,

and drinking is permitted.

Almost compulsory.

Did you know about your husband and Carol Wilson?

And the one before her and the one before her...

Or should I go on?

Hello.

Yes, this is Mrs. Warren Nichols.

Yes, put him on.

It's the police. Sergeant Tobias.

Yes?

Thank you, Sergeant.

Yes, right away.

You might be interested...

They found Warren.

You all right?

Don't mind me.

I cry at parades.

Look, why don't you wait out in the car?

I want to talk to Sergeant Tobias for a minute, huh?

Thanks.

How did you find him, Adam?

Service station down the hill.

Nichols had his car picked up for servicing on Monday.

He wanted it back in a hurry.

Been trying to get somebody up here

to answer the phone for three days,

and finally reported it.

Kind of washes up your theory, doesn't it, Joe? Yeah? How?

Well, you've been leaning kind of hard on Alec Ryan.

Now it's a whole new ball game.

Tell me.

Nichols was killed by a small caliber weapon,

fired at close range.

No sign of struggle, no forced entry into the house.

Conclusion:

he was killed by somebody he knew.

Evidence?

Compact.

Initials C.W., as in Carol Wilson.

One hair, color red.

Found on a pillow and probably hers.

Oh, big deal.

Does that put her here, in the house,

at the time it happened?

It's going to.

. A hair removed from Carol Wilson's head after she drowned.

A hair found in Nichols' lodge.

All right. It's her hair.

Now show me where it says Wednesday night.

Show him, Ellie.

This hair,

taken from Carol Wilson, is dark at the root.

So she dyed her hair.

No, she used henna.

There's a difference?

About ten dollars.

If you were married, you'd know that.

Henna doesn't penetrate the hair.

It just coats the surface.

It fades, and then has to be renewed.

This henna is quite fresh.

So far, I'm with you.

Her body was found Thursday morning.

She'd been dead about ten hours.

From those facts, plus the freshness of the henna,

we know she that had a henna treatment Wednesday afternoon.

I'm interested in Wednesday night.

Now this was the hair found in

Warren Nichols' happy hideaway.

It couldn't have been put there before late Wednesday

because Carol only added

the henna Wednesday afternoon.

And it couldn't have been put there after Wednesday night,

because she died Wednesday night.

In other words, she was there

Wednesday night.

Thanks, Ellie.

Why fight it, Joe?

It's classic.

Lovers' quarrel.

Girl shoots boy.

Finds out she can't get away with it,

throws herself right in the ocean.

That's neat.

Neat. Pink ribbons.

I happen to be a square about these things, Adam.

I don't get that warm, comfy feeling in here

unless I've got the gun in my hand.

Now where's the gun, Adam?

I'd say she had it with her when she drowned.

Now that's beautiful, and you won't be able to find it

unless you drag the whole Pacific Ocean.

Is that your cop-out?

No, no cop-out, Joe.

Tom, Mannix doesn't think

we're pushing hard enough for the gun.

That so?

What do you got?

According to the Coast Guard,

the current Wednesday night ran west,

maximum speed four knots.

Now, the body was found here.

Now, she first entered the water

somewhere inside this quarter circle.

That's a big leap forward.

Don't let him bug you, Tom, go on.

You remember the algae we found under her nails?

Well, I checked with the people down at Scripps,

and it turns out to be a parasitic marine growth.

Meaning what?

It grows on things.

Oh, thanks.

What sort of things?

Wood.

Generally wood.

Old piers, pilings... sunken boats.

Driftwood.

Now, there aren't any wrecked boats in here.

And if you're drowning, you don't claw at driftwood.

You grab at it.

So we settle for piers, pilings.

Right here.

Paradise Cove.

Hey, Sarge!

What do you got, Benjie?

This one's got some striations on it.

Looks like someone's been grabbing.

Scrape off some samples.

Shelley, bring over the bucket.

Benjie, take a look down below.

".22 caliber automatic target pistol, serial number

"25233.

Registered to Alec Ryan, attorney."

Well, Mr. Ryan?

Are you accusing me of something?

I'm saying ballistics says

a bullet from your gun killed Warren Nichols.

I've already discussed the matter

in some detail with the police.

In the interests of my client, Mrs. Warren Nichols,

would you mind discussing it with me?

Anything to oblige Brett.

I'm afraid I can't help very much.

As I told Sergeant Tobias,

the gun was stolen some few months ago.

I reported it to the police at the time.

You can check the date.

I did.

"Stolen August 4th."

No, that's when I discovered it was gone.

I remember using it around July the 10th

and then, August the 4th,

when I wanted to take a little target practice, it was gone.

In other words, the gun was stolen between those dates.

That seems fairly safe.

Of course, I'm no detective.

And Carol Wilson left you between those dates.

Didn't it occur to you

that she might have taken the gun?

I was almost certain she had.

It was a valuable gun. I assumed she'd stolen it.

That's funny.

You reported the theft as "by persons unknown."

Well, I don't know how things are in your set, Mannix,

but in mine, if a friend, especially a lady, leaves you,

taking with her a book she happened to be reading,

or even part of the silverware,

it is not a matter for the police.

This happened to be a gun.

Don't teach me the law.

What about yesterday... Why didn't you tell me then

that she had taken it?

It couldn't have ruined her good name.

She was dead.

I'm trying to think how it would have gone.

You came on my boat to tell me Carol was drowned.

What did you want me to say?

"Funny, her drowning. She could have shot herself.

She had my gun."

Or was I supposed to say,

"If she's dead, she won't be needing my gun anymore.

Can I have it back?"

Come off it, Mannix.

I had your license lifted once.

That doesn't make me a murderer.

You dislike me, but it doesn't give you the right

to put me in a gas chamber for something I didn't do. Didn't you?

This time, Mannix, if I get your license lifted,

it'll be for good.

Why?

Why did she steal that gun?

She was leaving Alec Ryan to take up with Warren Nichols.

But she swiped Ryan's gun. Why?

So if she ever wanted to kill Nichols,

she'd have a weapon handy?

I don't believe it.

Drink your coffee.

That's another thing.

Where was the champagne?

Champagne?

Yeah, did you ever see a picture of Alec Ryan

without a glass of champagne in his hand?

Parties, race track,

fancy breakfasts on his boat; always champagne.

Remember what they called him

in that magazine feature last year... "Champagne Alec."

You know what he was drinking on the boat both times I saw him?

What?

Coffee.

Look, why don't you just go right down to the grand jury.

I mean, you've got an airtight case.

You caught him red-handed drinking a cup of coffee.

You know what I think?

I think Ryan knew Carol Wilson was dead,

and knew somebody'd be out there to question him,

so he wanted to be sober.

As long as Mona baby says

Ryan never left that boat Wednesday night,

that lets him completely off the hook.

So why don't you just forget it?

No.

No, something is missing.

It just feels wrong.

Look, I'll see you later, huh?

Hey, what about your coffee?

Oh, uh, keep it for the grand jury.

When I've been a widow long enough, Joe,

will you dance with me?

A pleasure.

I haven't danced in eight years.

How about some fresh air?

I love fresh air...

as long as it has some bourbon in it.

Not exactly society's favorite

watering place, is it?

Well, it's no country club.

That's why I like it here.

No one knows me here.

They don't say, "Brett, come join us.

We'll talk."

Meaning, "Don't drink so much, Brett."

Or, "Can we give you a lift home, Brett?"

Meaning, "You're too smashed to navigate."

Or, "Don't you think you've had enough, Brett?"

Meaning, "You've had enough."

I've had enough.

You don't think Carol Wilson killed my husband, do you?

All the evidence points to it, but can't figure a motive.

Maybe Warren was throwing her out.

He liked variety.

Girls like that don't kill men who throw them out.

They find other men.

You were about to say something?

What about, uh...

what about you and other men?

Are you investigating a murder, sir,

or trying to get your face slapped?

Well, uh... another man, in love with you...

would've had a motive.

Sorry.

No other men.

I was the faithful collie.

Even when I found out I was never really going

to have Warren, I...

he was still all I wanted.

Well, that brings us to business associates.

Oh, sure. Any of them.

Any of them what?

Would have been delighted to kill him.

To do business with Warren was to hate him.

Did Alec Ryan hate him?

Probably.

Warren never took me into his confidences...

not even in business matters.

You know what I've been thinking?

I was wondering what would've happened

ten years ago, if you'd advertised for a secretary.

But... it's too late now.

Time... Time for another drink.

Join me?

No, thanks.

I've got to get back to work.

You mean you haven't been working?

Not entirely.

No more questions?

Not now.

Well, I'll be here tomorrow night,

and you can shine a bright light in my eyes

and shout at me if you like.

Good night.

I must say you're pretty good.

It keeps me in shape.

For what? The Olympics.

A lawyer friend of mine told me I don't have to talk to you.

It's about Wednesday night.

I thought Alec told you about that.

Are you sure you spent all of Wednesday on his boat?

Well, it's not the kind of thing a girl forgets.

Is it possible he could have left the boat

for a few hours maybe, without your knowing?

Frankly, I don't see how.

And you'd say the same thing under oath?

Well, I wouldn't exactly want the world to know,

but, yes, I would.

You know, Mona, they don't have swimming pools

at women's prisons.

Now, if you're lying, you could miss the next two Olympics.

Maybe three.

You'd better give it some thought.

That's five years for perjury.

Another five years for accessory to...

To what, Mannix?

Get something on, Mona. We're due at the Langs'.

See you at the Olympics.

Let me put it this way, Mannix:

You've threatened me.

You've threatened my girl.

But that's it. The end.

Finish.

Well, he's right, Joe. You've been asking for it.

You won't use the radar.

You won't look at the instruments.

Man, the seat of your pants

is flying you right into the mountain.

I know Ryan's girl is lying!

No, you don't know!

You hate Ryan, so he's guilty.

But the girl's his alibi, so she must be lying!

You don't know!

Okay. I feel!

You wish!

Oh, you think that's what it is, huh?

You think I'm trying to pin a murder rap on Ryan

because he sticks in my craw?

I know you better than that.

All right, what do you think?

I think Carol Wilson killed Warren Nichols,

jumped into the water.

But say I'm wrong.

Say I buy the idea of a double murder

and a killer on the loose... Okay, okay.

I'm the cop on the job.

I go looking for suspects.

But Joe, I don't go looking for suspect number two

or five or ten.

I go right to suspect number one.

Spell it out, do you mind?

You read the papers?

Yeah.

How's this for a headline?

"Wife kills husband and other woman."

Brett?

Brett?

Mrs. Warren Nichols!

Have you questioned her, Joe?

Wife, husband, other woman.

Two people are dead.

Now, I still think the other woman did it,

but if you don't buy that, isn't the wife next in line?

Not this time.

Why not? She inherits all his money.

Jealousy, greed, they've driven other people to murder.

Not Brett Nichols.

Why? Because she has nice eyes, good legs, a soft, husky voice?

I mean, she smiles, you smile.

All right, Adam, knock it off!

Knock it off.

Go ahead, say it.

Have you questioned her?

Of course! I've talked to her...

Not talked, questioned.

Did you ask her where she was Wednesday night?

Did you tell her the penalty for perjury?

Did you talk to her like a detective?

Mrs. Nichols? Mrs. Nichols?

A Mr. Mannix to see you.

Mrs. Nichols?

Mrs. Nichols?

Mr. Mannix!

This is Joe Mannix, I'm at 2020 El Cerrito Drive.

Send out an emergency unit.

Stomach pump, pulmotor.

Attempted suicide.

Dear Joe: You would've found out anyway.

You wouldn't have wanted to ask me the terrible questions,

and this will save you the trouble.

I guess I'm not as hardboiled as I once thought

or as you must've thought... till now.

I killed them both.

I know this doesn't square my account,

but it makes things tidier.

I'm sorry.

Don't frame this letter. Brett.

Doctor... According to the books,

anyone who's taken that many pills

has already been dead for some time.

But she's still alive.

Is there any chance of her regaining consciousness soon?

I wouldn't count on anything.

But if we can squeak past the next eight hours, she's home.

But don't count on it, huh?

Well, how is she?

Not good.

That's hard to believe.

I spent a couple of hours with her late this afternoon.

The maid told me.

We had a lot to talk about.

The estate, the technicalities of moving it through probate.

But it was heavy going.

She was very shaken up by Warren's death.

Knowing how he treated her,

that must seem pretty far out, but there it is.

Anyway, just before leaving her,

I told her to take a pill and get some sleep.

What I was concerned about

was that she might decide to go for a drive.

And needless to say, by that time, she was thoroughly sauced.

Needless to say.

Joe. Adam.

I'm sorry, Joe.

You warned me.

Right into the side of the mountain.

Have you questioned her?

Have you talked to her like a detective?

What about those tests?

Well, no surprises.

Stomach samples and blood both show

a high reading of alcohol and barbituric acid.

No surprises.

Just what any clean-living cop

would expect of a Brett Nichols.

I'm not judging the lady, Joe.

You asked me about the tests.

I'm sorry, Adam.

It's... it's just that I can't buy it.

Confession, two murders...

She did take an overdose of sleeping pills.

And I seriously doubt that even our great courtroom spellbinder,

Mr. Alec Ryan, could persuade her to take her own life.

Well, then, he tricked her.

How, Joe?

I talked to her doctor.

Knowing her history as a drinker,

he made it very clear to her just how dangerous it was

to mix pills and liquor, and to his knowledge,

she had never overdosed.

Is this the bottle her prescription was in?

Yeah.

"Not to be refilled before February 20."

Well, that's tomorrow.

At last, something we agree on.

Come on, now... you're missing the point, Adam.

Listen, "Direction: one tablet at bedtime for sleep."

You know how it is, Joe.

Some people never believe in directions.

If Brett Nichols took one tablet every night

and this prescription ran out tomorrow,

then she couldn't have had over two pills to take.

How do you know she didn't hoard them?

Oh, sure, she always knew she wanted to take her life one day.

Come on now, Adam, this is attempted murder!

Joe, how can it be?

Now, look, let's say that a good and sympathetic friend

like the family lawyer suggests she takes a pill.

Just so old Brett can unwind and go to sleep.

In combination with the amount of alcohol she'd ingested,

she'd be flat-out asleep in minutes.

Right. But not dead, not in danger of dying.

Right.

So she wouldn't feel the needle

he used to inject the lethal dose of barbiturate, would she?

Joe, the examining physician didn't find any puncture marks.

Did he shave her head?

Check under fingernails?

All right. We'll look.

Why would Ryan want to kill her?

To clear himself of the first two murders, for openers.

He's never been charged with them.

And Ryan's enough of a lawyer

to know that he probably never could be.

Well, he's also enough of a lawyer to know

that if Brett Nichols lives to protest his accounting

of her husband's estate to the probate court,

his motive for killing Warren Nichols will be out in the open.

So your guess is, Ryan killed Warren Nichols

because Nichols caught him stealing?

There's no guesswork about it.

You don't have any proof.

You don't have one shred of evidence.

What do you call it?

Navigation, Adam... Seat-of-the-pants navigation.

Now, if Brett Nichols dies, I want the man who did it.

Mannix.

Won't you come in.

You're just in time for breakfast.

A glass of champagne?

Some coffee?

Mona wins the blue ribbon when it comes to boiling water.

Thanks. I'll just pass.

Something wrong?

Brett Nichols... About an hour ago...

She never regained consciousness.

Oh, that's too bad.

Well, probably just as well, all things considered.

Yeah.

Oh, the hospital would like to check out some facts with you.

Next of kin, previous illnesses,

things like that.

We were just about to shove off.

Do you suppose I could phone it in?

I don't see why not.

You know, I think I'll change my mind about that coffee,

if it's not too much trouble?

I'll be right back.

Phone's at the head of the pier.

I guess I owe you an apology.

I guess you do.

You know, now that things have worked out the way they have,

I'm glad you were telling the truth.

Cream? Sugar?

Because if you weren't telling the truth, Mona...

Well, look, let's just kind of play a game...

Let's suppose.

Now suppose Alec Ryan wasn't with you

every beautiful minute of Wednesday night,

that he was with Warren Nichols,

that he killed Nichols,

and that Carol Wilson walked in on him

when he was tidying things up,

so he bribed her with the only thing she understood...

An annuity.

They then went to the pier to get rid of the gun,

and all of a sudden, she found herself in the water,

clawing for her life.

Now, I'd say that annuity had a pretty quick pay-off.

And let's suppose that Alec Ryan figured he was safe,

because nobody knew,

but Brett Nichols figured it out,

so he had to kill her, too.

Of course nothing like that ever happened,

but if it had,

you'd be the only person in the world who knew...

little Mona.

You know where that would leave you, Mona?

One day you'd be heading out to sea,

just you and the man who killed Nichols

and then killed two other people to cover up the crime.

You'd be the only person

who could pin all three crimes on him.

Did you say something?

Oh, I'm sure you'd be safe for a while, I guess.

He wouldn't be in a hurry.

But one sunny day, you'd be on a boat heading out to sea,

miles from anywhere...

Just you, the boat, a lot of water, and Alec Ryan.

And then maybe just Alec Ryan.

A tragic accident at sea. No witnesses.

Of course, the police might have their suspicions,

but what can they prove?

People fall off of boats all the time.

It's up to you, Mona.

You going to take that boat trip?

Mannix... you lied to me.

She's still alive.

Yeah, I know.

If she pulls through,

she'd be the second witness against you.

Where were you?

What are you talking about?

That night, Wednesday,

the night I said I was with you.

♪ ♪

Only for a minute now.

I'm against the whole idea, but she insisted.

And when she insists... Yeah, I know.

Joe... Right here.

I'm sorry I caused you so much...

inconvenience.

Always glad to be of service to a client.

Just how far does the Mannix service go?

Try me.

Could you kiss a client good night?

I call that service.

Joe...

are you absolutely sure you couldn't use a secretary?