Original subtitles

♪♪

Did I scare you?

I-I'm sorry, miss.

Hello, Carl.

Doc still in the office?

Yes, he is.

Staying kind of late, ain't he?

He sure works hard, treating all them crazy people.

People who go to a psychiatrist aren't crazy people.

Not most of them, anyhow.

How come they need a head shrink then, huh?

Some of them don't.

But let that be our secret.

Good night, Carl.

Yeah, night.

♪♪

Joe, there's a lady outside to see you.

Mm? She have a name?

Greta Allen.

She say what it was about?

No, but she seems pretty upset.

Okay, Peggy, show her in.

Miss Allen?

Miss Allen, uh...

please sit down.

Thank you.

Well, what can I do for you?

Are you familiar with the name Clement Jarrud?

The psychiatrist?

Yes, I was just reading about his suicide.

It wasn't suicide.

The, uh, police seemed to think so.

Will that buy three days of your time?

Well, it depends what you want done.

Find out who killed Dr. Jarrud.

What makes you so sure?

We had an appointment.

And I know he meant to keep it.

An appointment?

Yes. I was...

closer to him than anyone alive.

Including his wife.

Dr. Jarrud loved his work...

and he loved me.

Do you have any idea who might have wanted him dead?

X, Y or Z... the three patients

for whom he sacrificed most of his practice last year.

I'd begged him to tell me who they were...

just in case.

I was worried, with the book coming out.

What if one of them recognized himself and...

and felt betrayed or exploited?

After all,

each one of them had murdered before.

And Clem insisted it was a book that had to be written.

Read the book, Mr. Mannix.

It will show you the danger that he was in

right from the start.

You ready, Joe?

Hi, Art.

Ready for what?

The Lakers game.

Don't tell me you forgot.

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, I'm sorry, Art.

Uh, you're going to have to go alone.

- That must be quite a book. - Yeah.

Oh, yeah, the guy that shot himself.

If he shot himself.

Who put that bug in your ear?

Partly, the victim.

You should read it, Art.

If you can, give me a summary

that'll fit on the head of a pin.

It's 20 minutes to game time.

Okay, X, Y and Z,

each formerly patients of Dr. Jarrud,

each homicidal, possibly cured, possibly not;

each, on the basis of this book,

with more than enough reason to want to kill him.

You mean, because he exposed them.

Yeah. And he was only trying to determine

what triggered the rage to kill.

He thought it might be beneficial

in the treatment of similar cases.

Exactly who are X, Y and Z?

No idea.

The doctor was a fanatic on protecting their identities.

Beautiful!

A book about three psychos that may be purely imaginary,

and you're ready to solve a murder that,

up to now, is also imaginary.

Yeah.

Well, enjoy the game, Art.

I'll phone you the score.

What do you want?

You're not the police.

The case is closed, isn't it?

Do you think the case should have been closed?

Me?

How would I know?

Weren't you concerned, or at least a little curious

about these three mysterious patients,

each one of them being a murderer?

Of course I was.

That's why Dr. Jarrud kept a gun in his desk,

to protect me if something should go wrong, he said.

Mm. And you have absolutely no idea who they were?

Each one came and left by the doctor's private entrance.

Only he handled their files.

Where did he keep the files?

In his safe.

Well, the police opened the safe,

but there were no files.

Well, it's all I can tell you.

Of course, he was very cautious.

After he finished the book,

he probably took the files and burned them.

Now, look, I'm-I'm sorry, but I have to leave now.

Miss Shaw, let's suppose he didn't burn the files.

Could he have taken them home?

That would be the last place I'd expect him to take anything.

Why is that?

You might ask Mrs. Jarrud.

Mr. Mannings?

- Uh, Mannix. - Oh.

- Joe Mannix. - Yes. Uh, you are...?

Private investigator.

Oh, yes.

Well, what is it that you want from me?

I mean, just what is your interest in my husband's death?

Oh, the insurance company sent you, didn't they?

No, the insurance company didn't send me, Mrs. Jarrud.

I was hired by someone

to investigate your husband's death.

Who?

Do you mind if I ask my question first?

Did Dr. Jarrud ever bring his private files

home from the office?

I haven't the faintest idea.

Would you like a glass of wine?

No, thank you.

Mrs. Jarrud...

my client has reason to believe

that your husband's death was not a suicide.

Oh.

Don't bother.

It all comes out in the wash.

Mr. Mannix,

do you really believe

that someone killed my husband?

I think it's a possibility.

Then you're as mad as he was.

Poor Clem.

If you had ever witnessed one of his depressions...

He was like something out of a Russian novel.

All that time spent with crazy people,

I suppose it couldn't help but get to him.

Mister...

Mr. Mannix,

the police are quite satisfied that it was suicide.

Mm.

Are you satisfied?

If you're still talking about insurance,

my husband left me quite comfortably fixed.

Mm.

Mrs. Jarrud...

did your husband ever talk to you about the three patients

he identified in his book as X, Y and Z?

Clem didn't think I had the brains to understand his work.

He was quite right.

It bored me.

Maybe that was your mistake, Mother.

Maybe you should have shown more interest.

Robert, how long have you been standing there?

I just came down to see if you were feeling any better.

I was... until this gentleman arrived.

Mr. Mannix, this is my son Robert.

How do you do?

Hi.

Mr. Mannix is a detective.

He has the remarkable notion that Clem was murdered.

Well, Mother, isn't that what I told you?

Oh, you're a child.

I've read Father's book.

Have you?

You know I haven't.

Have you, Mr. Mannix?

I've read it.

Then you know it might have been one of those three.

I've considered the possibility.

Mr. Mannix, exactly who is your client?

Uh, let's just say, uh, an interested party.

Hm.

And you're determined to earn the money she's paying you.

You see, I do have some talent for detection.

Well, you can tell her she's wasting her money.

Good-bye, Mr. Mannix.

Robert, see him out.

I'm sorry.

It's quite all right.

Uh, Mr. Mannix...

I think I might be able to help you...

I mean, to prove my father was murdered.

How?

Well, the moment I heard what happened, I searched his study.

He wasn't my real father, you know.

My real father died before I ever knew him,

but Clem was more than a father to me.

I mean, he was a, he was a wonderful man.

I'd like to see his murderer caught.

Anyway, I, uh... uh... found this

hidden in a bottom drawer of his desk.

Seems to be written in some kind of a code.

Might be.

Thought it might have something to do

with this X, Y and Z business.

I'll, uh, get on it right away.

Good-bye, Mr. Mannix.

How long to break it down, Barry?

Nothing like what I saw in the Army, Joe.

Looks like this guy Jarrud used some kind of private code.

Now, that takes time.

Well, this is really urgent.

Couple of days.

That may be 48 hours too long.

We're dealing with a murderer who just may kill again.

I'll do the best I can, Joe, but that...

Look, uh, just feed me one batch at a time, okay?

You'll get 'em hot off the press.

This just came from Barry Chambers.

How far did he get?

"X."

Child molester, paranoid schizophrenic...

killed two children,

spent eight years in an institution.

Where is he now?

His name is Carl Meiss.

He's the janitor at Dr. Jarrud's building.

Carl Meiss?

Yeah.

I'm Joe Mannix.

I wonder if we could talk.

Wait a minute, didn't I see you the other day

with Dr. Jarrud's secretary?

That's right.

What I thought.

You a cop?

Private.

Is there someplace we can talk?

About what?

Dr. Jarrud.

Okay, what about Dr. Jarrud?

Actually, I wanted to talk to you

about one of Dr. Jarrud's patients.

Which one?

Did you by any chance read his book?

Book?

Who, me?

One of the people he wrote about

was someone he identified only as "X," a child molester.

Well, what would I know about creeps like that?

I thought you might know this particular man.

Yeah, well, I don't.

You can't just come pushing in here like that.

You're Patient X, aren't you?

Y-You think that, uh, he put me in that book of his?

Not so that anybody could identify you.

Then how come you're asking?

I'm going on a theory

that Dr. Jarrud didn't pull the trigger himself.

You mean someone killed him?

And put the gun in his hand.

Who?

Maybe one of the three patients he wrote about.

Why should they?

They might be afraid that their secret is no longer safe.

Well, I got nothing to hide.

You've got my word that if you're innocent,

your secret is safe with me.

You don't know any secret.

Eight years...

in a hospital for the criminally insane

for molesting, then strangling two children.

Dr. Jarrud helped you.

He got you this job.

He treated you without charge.

He... he kept me from...

feeling... that I wanted to do it again.

He kept me safe.

Me kill Dr. Jarrud?

Without him, how much longer before it would happen again?

Before I'm back in hell again?

Carl...

at the time of his death, where were you?

I don't remember. I...

I think maybe...

on the sixth floor.

Did you see anything unusual?

No! Nothing!

Except, yeah...

yeah, somebody came running down the stairs right past me.

They didn't pay no attention to me.

They're always... all of 'em always looking right through me.

I... I might as well be...

a...

Uh, Carl, try to remember.

Was it a man or a woman?

Young, old?

I don't know, just a shadow.

You know, to most people in this building,

I'm just a shadow, I'm invisible.

Well, they're just shadows to me, too!

If, uh, Dr. Jarrud was murdered,

you'd want his killer caught, wouldn't you?

Without the doc... I'm nothing.

What do you think?

Well, if, uh...

if that shadow you saw ever becomes a face...

call me, huh, Carl?

Hi, Peg. Is he here?

Go right on in, Barry.

He's expecting you.

Yeah, right, right, I got it.

Thanks, Dan.

I thought I'd deliver this handful myself.

Oh, yeah? Why?

Open it.

Kind of got the feeling that with this Patient Y,

that Dr. Jarrud almost didn't trust his own code.

Would the gossip columns have had a field day with this one.

Well, who is he?

It's not a he.

It's Joan Cochran.

♪ Three sheets gone ♪

♪ And there's my soul ♪

♪ Dancin' in a pretzel bowl ♪

♪ Even though I ought to go ♪

♪ And feed my cat ♪

♪ If that ♪

♪ Divine speaks ♪

♪ The music's sweet ♪

♪ I may stay and I may leave ♪

♪ Some old eyesore who's looking for ♪

♪ A one-night stand... Swell, grand ♪

♪ When I was young, baby, young and limber ♪

♪ Somebody loved me, I can't remember ♪

♪ Who or what ♪

♪ Snow is fallin' and me with the sniffles ♪

♪ And no galoshes ♪

♪ But I'm much warmer now ♪

♪ Thanks to Willie, hey ♪

♪ Willie, baby, hey ♪

♪ One more soda and rye ♪

♪ For the old barfly. ♪

Well, you blew it again.

You slept right through it.

Monkey with a bent spoon would have more rhythm.

Joan, baby, give us a rest.

Oh, please, start earning your money...

if your arm ain't paralyzed from an easy living.

Well, who's the tiger?

Joe Mannix.

Oh, ye... yeah.

Uh, why don't you guys take a break?

Uh... back in an hour.

Uh... you're the private eye, right?

Thanks for taking the time.

Oh, I got nothing but time, baby,

at least until they come and plant me,

and, uh, whoever runs that gig

will have to cut my manager in on the action.

- You a fan? - I've seen you work.

On a good day, you put out enough energy

to light up the city.

Yeah.

On a good day.

You dig me?

- Come on, baby. - Where to?

Don't be afraid, Tiger.

Mama don't eat pussycats like you.

She only likes to play with 'em a little.

Mm.

You really on a case?

Or you just saying that to get next to me?

I'm really on a case.

How was that?

Unexpected.

That the best you can do?

Well, I, uh, came here hoping to talk,

ask questions.

All right.

Start pitching 'em to me, nice and easy.

You remember a fella named Boyd Wilkins?

Now you're getting tacky.

Why don't you just blow?

I don't like tacky men.

You stabbed him during a rock festival.

There were 70,000 witnesses

said it was self-defense.

He started getting tacky.

There have been a number of incidents

over the past years,

not all of them reported to the police.

Always some dude who didn't know when his time was up.

Have you, by any chance, read a book by Dr. Clement Jarrud?

Man, I don't even get time

to read my own reviews.

Busy, busy, busy.

You were a patient of Dr. Jarrud's, weren't you?

Yeah, I been to so many shrinks,

they're like a blur you pass on a motorcycle.

This particular doctor became a real blur

by taking a bullet in the temple.

I know just how he felt.

Boom, and it's all over.

You do remember him?

You sure he's dead?

Or did he send you here to shake me down?

Is that what you were afraid of?

No.

You're "Patient Y" in Dr. Jarrud's book, aren't you?

Brilliant entertainer, self-destructive,

jealous, possessive.

Sometimes striking out murderously

at someone who didn't return her love.

Baby, you've got to be kiddin'.

I ain't never had to beg for a man I wanted.

Maybe...

had some...

other little confusions.

Guess I needed ol' Clem to...

get my head together.

But, uh, after a while, you started digging him?

Other way around.

Wouldn't be the first time some dude fell in love with me.

Are you saying you were having an affair with Dr. Jarrud?

That so tough to believe?

Well, I heard that he was in love with someone else.

Never. He dug me.

Joan, he only saw you as a patient,

not as a woman.

He loved me.

Say he loved me.

Say it.

What happened that evening he was killed?

Did he tell you it was hopeless?

Were you there that evening?

You think I remember?

I could have been anywhere.

It was centuries ago.

Oh, Clem...

what'll I do now?

Joan...

I'm sorry.

Maybe some other time.

Wait.

Don't go.

Please don't leave me alone.

Don't leave me alone in the dark.

Stay with me till the boys get back.

Please?

Daddy, don't lock me in the closet.

Don't whip me.

Oh, Clem, protect me.

Please don't leave me alone in the dark.

What are you still doing here?

I can handle it.

Go on, get out.

Go on, beat it!

- Hi. - Hello.

From Major Chambers.

Oh.

Here you are.

- Thank you. - Thank you.

- Patient Z. - Mmm.

Hey, old Barry managed to come up with a photo.

Well, he doesn't look like a homicidal maniac to me.

Well, they come in all flavors.

I think I do remember that face.

The Philadelphia papers a few years ago.

Joe, didn't they give him a name?

Yeah, the Sapphire Killer.

Middle-aged, lonely women.

Romance one, give her a star sapphire.

Get her to make out a new will in his favor, then kill her.

Then after seven years in a state hospital

for the criminally insane,

a parole board recommended his release.

Free and clear?

No, no. On the condition

that he put himself under psychiatric care.

But after treatment, Dr. Jarrud apparently felt

the urge to kill was still there just below the surface.

We're closed for the night.

Mr. Lewis?

Yes? Mr. Mannix?

That's right.

Come on in.

On the phone, you said you were thinking of joining the club.

Yeah, my doctor thinks it might be a good idea.

- What do you do, Mr. Mannix? - I'm a private investigator.

Well, we get all kinds.

You do much running around?

Well, a lot less than people imagine.

The leather on my desk chair is about worn out.

Oh, bad news.

Sit behind a desk, drop dead at 45.

Unless I get ahold of you in time.

And that's all the sales talk you'll get from me.

Come on, I'll show you around.

Nothing but the best equipment.

Press machine.

It's sure a beauty.

Yeah.

Chinning bar. Swing around.

Well, to tell you the truth, Mr. Lewis,

I came here tonight to talk about something else.

Oh. For a man out of condition, your reflexes are pretty good.

Better than pretty good.

Okay...

what exactly did you come here to talk about?

Did you know a Dr. Clement Jarrud?

Who?

The psychiatrist.

Oh, sure. Read about him.

The fella that put the gun to his head.

Flabby thinking.

You were his patient, weren't you?

Who said so?

Well, you haven't changed that much

since your picture appeared in the Philadelphia papers

as, uh, the Sapphire Killer.

Okay... what do you want?

To find out who killed Dr. Jarrud

and made it look like suicide.

So, out of three million people in this town, why come to me?

Dr. Jarrud had a book published this week.

There's a similarity between your history

and the patient he called "Z."

He swore no one would ever find out.

He kept the promise.

Then how do you know?

He left notes, in code, and well hidden.

Okay... so what?

The Sapphire Killer's ancient history.

I've been clean ever since I got out.

Dr. Jarrud was afraid he hadn't really cured you,

that the urge to kill might return.

No!

He felt you were walking right on the edge.

I don't want to hear any more.

Well, it was quite a problem for him.

Telling anyone would probably have destroyed you,

and, uh, keeping it to himself

might have meant leaving a murderer at large.

I tell you I've been clean.

Maybe you didn't trust him not to tell,

so you, uh, had to keep him quiet?

I wasn't anywhere near Jarrud's office that evening.

Where were you?

Right here, doing my job.

I'm good at it.

No one here knows anything about me.

Are you saying that there were people here

who saw you at the exact time of Jarrud's death?

Yes, dozens of people.

How do you know what time that was?

Doesn't matter.

I was here the whole evening.

You have Jarrud's notes.

That's right.

And you broke the code.

You could use those notes, couldn't you?

Dredge up the whole story again.

Turn people against me.

Destroy me. Have me put away again.

There's no reason for me to do that,

if you're telling the truth.

You believe I'm sick, don't you?

You and Dr. Jarrud.

You want to put me back in that cage again.

I'd rather die.

No, I'd rather see you dead.

Lewis?

I want to help you.

You can trust me.

Lewis?

His alibi checks out.

He was here at the time of Jarrud's death.

I almost wish I hadn't found him.

I might have put on the last ounce of pressure

he couldn't take.

Don't blame yourself, Joe.

Do you think he was sane enough to be out on the streets?

If he does need help, I guess he'll get it now.

By the way, Joan Cochran's off the hook.

She have an alibi?

An hour before Jarrud's death,

she was busted for drunken driving.

She was sleeping it off in jail in Santa Monica

till she got bailed out.

That clears Y and Z, which leaves...

X.

Well, maybe he's somewhere else in the building.

No, I have a feeling he knew the game was up and skipped.

I'll put out an APB.

What's bothering you, Joe?

Something's wrong, Art.

For one thing, Carl Meiss had no way of knowing

that Y and Z had alibis.

So why tonight?

Guilty conscience.

The need for punishment.

Dr. Jarrud probably could have written another book about that.

Yeah, maybe.

But it just feels wrong right here.

I think someone is using X, Y and Z to hide something.

Lab report, Lieutenant.

Okay, thanks, Charlie.

It looks like your gut instinct was right.

How come?

Carl Meiss was already dead when he hanged himself.

Here you are, Joe.

Oh, thanks, Peg.

Joe, if X, Y or Z didn't do it,

then who did?

Maybe a fourth patient, who didn't get in the book.

Maybe he is in Jarrud's notebook.

Barry's still working on it.

I got a feeling the rest of the book is just a summing up.

What now?

Well, Jarrud's secretary didn't know X, Y or Z,

but she must have known the doctor's other patients.

We're trying to get in touch with her.

Looks like someone drowned her in the moonlight.

Apparently that mysterious fourth patient

didn't want Jarrud's secretary to tell us anything.

Which takes us back to square one.

Yeah.

Oh, it's you, Mr. Mannix.

Yes, is Mrs. Jarrud in?

I'm sorry, Mrs. Jarrud isn't feeling well.

Well, it's really quite important.

Who is it, Helen?

It's Mr. Mannix, ma'am.

Well, show him in.

Come in.

Good evening, Mrs. Jarrud.

Well, what is it you want this time, Mr. Mannix?

I'd like to ask you about one of your husband's patients.

I told you that my husband never discussed his work with me.

I think you know this particular one.

Who told you that?

Greta Allen?

That scheming little opportunist that hired you?

This was my own idea.

You're protecting her.

Why should I?

Because you're a man of great secrets, Mr. Mannix.

And I think you've come here to share one with me.

You believe I know who killed Clem, don't you?

Yes, I do.

Well...

what if I confessed to you,

in strictest confidence, that I did it?

Are you confessing, Mrs. Jarrud?

Yes.

I did it.

Why not?

He was having an affair with another woman,

and I hated him for that.

I began to drink,

until I hated him enough to kill him.

There.

You can close the books on the case now.

You've got your solution.

How about Carl Meiss, the janitor?

Why did you kill him?

What?

He was too heavy for you to lift.

You're just trying to confuse me.

I killed Clem, I tell you.

No, Mrs. Jarrud, you didn't kill anyone.

You've been trying to protect someone all along.

Mr. Mannix...

please don't go up there.

It's too late, Mrs. Jarrud.

I-I tell you, I did it.

Why won't you believe me?

I'm sorry.

Come in, Mr. Mannix.

You like this kind of music?

I can take it or leave it alone.

What about Mother?

Is it safe to leave her alone?

What do you mean?

Three people dead.

It has to end somewhere.

We both know that.

It could end right here, Robert, with your help.

Sure, Mr. Mannix.

You name it.

Could we talk without that?

Anything you say.

Your stepfather was treating someone in his family,

wasn't he?

Well... obviously.

But it wasn't your mother.

It was you, wasn't it?

Are you serious?

Let me see if I can put it all together.

Your mother started worrying about you,

convinced your stepfather that you needed help.

He didn't keep notes for obvious reasons,

but he probably decided you were dangerous,

and told your mother you should be committed

before you killed someone.

I suppose you only get paid if you find some patsy, huh?

Pay or play, that it, Mr. Mannix?

What happened, Robert?

Did Elaine Shaw find out what was going on

and offer to help you?

Did she give you the notebook and the gun for a price?

Oh, I see.

You think I've been paying her off all this time.

I think you killed your stepfather,

then gave me the notebook to find a patsy for you.

X, Y or Z.

And then you killed Carl Meiss.

Well, if that's true, then...

why would I kill Elaine?

How did you know she was dead?

It was kept out of the papers.

Why did you kill her, Robert?

This is not the answer, Robert.

She wanted me to marry her!

Can you believe that?

That bag of bones!

I gave her expensive clothing,

I gave her furs,

I gave her money because she said she'd help me,

but I never said I'd marry her.

Is that why you killed her?

Said she'd tell the police what I'd done

and they'd take me away forever.

Well, it was blackmail.

She deserved to die.

What, are you blind?

It was a conspiracy.

They all wanted to put me away.

Because I was nobody's son.

Nobody loved me.

Your mother loved you, Robert.

She knew your stepfather was right.

She probably drank because she knew one day

she'd have to sign the commitment papers.

For your own good.

Now...

now-now don't come any closer.

I've decided now.

I'm... I'm not going anywhere

because I am not sick!

I had to kill Clem because...

he kept talking about... locking me away.

Well, I'm not, I'm not like those other patients of his.

They couldn't hack it!

But I'm-I'm fine.

I am fine.

Nothing can touch me.

Nobody can...

Mama...?