All language subtitles for Mannix S08E06 Death Has No Face.DVDRip.NonHI.en.CBS

Manni...

Mannix.

Hi, Joe.

You again.

Yeah. Who else?

What do you want?

You know, you're taking
quite a chance, aren't you?

Now, how'd you know it was
safe to pick up that phone?

Now, look, either you tell
me who you are or get lost.

You're beginning to bore me.

Now, you're not
really bored, Joe.

You don't sound bored.

Come on, come on.
What do you want?

All I ever wanted.

Justice.

What's that got to do with me?

Everything.

You know you've got to pay
me back for what you did to me.

What did I do to you?

Come on, Joe.

You know.

Pay you back, how?

Well, for openers...

why don't you start making
funeral arrangements.

♪♪

Mannix.

Oh, hey, fellow, I
forgot to mention it.

If I were you, I wouldn't
sit in your desk chair.

Thanks for the warning.

Of course if you had,

I guess you wouldn't be
talking to me now, would you?

Oh, it's not a warning.

Sudden death would be
a little too easy for you.

Way too easy.

♪♪

Whoever planted this
either miscalculated

or he never intended
to kill anybody.

A trip wire, huh?

Pressure-sensitive fuse.

You find any more of them?

Three. And we're still looking.

Mm...

Well, there doesn't seem
to be any sign of concussion.

What about this arm?

You play the violin?

Why?

This won't help you
play it any better.

Nothing serious.

Any notion about who
might have done it, Joe?

So far, just a voice on
the phone wanting justice.

Somebody you helped
put away, maybe?

Unless you've got a better idea.

Doesn't that give you
some kind of a lead?

Would you like to go through
my files for the past seven years?

What about the voice?

Recognize any speech patterns?

Anything odd about
the way he sounded?

Well, he, uh, he
sounded playful.

That's why, until tonight,

I just figured he was
another crackpot.

How long has he
been calling you?

12 days now.

Why didn't you tell me?

Come on, Art.

A private detective's
life is like a public towel.

Everybody wipes
his hands on him.

If I reported every
crackpot that called...

So far, we've dismantled
three booby traps.

You could have been blinded,
had your hand blown off.

Somebody obviously has
enough of a grudge against you

to go to all this trouble.

But not enough
to want to kill you.

Maybe it's some kind of a
warning for you to lay off.

Are you working on a case

somebody wants
you to stay away from?

Oh, no, this joker is
strictly out to kill me.

Only, not just yet.

Don't ask me why.

Why?

Good morning.

Good morning, Joe.

You must have had
some party here last night.

Yeah, did get a
little out of hand.

Wasn't, by any chance,
your friendly phone caller?

Guess he wasn't just a
harmless crank after all.

Joe, how did he get in here?

Eh, who knows?

Peggy, what's on my
appointment schedule this morning?

Oh, Joe, you're
not going to pretend

that it's business as usual.

You need protection!

And the landlord needs his rent.

Life goes on.

Until it stops.

My appointments?

What's a five-letter word for
a psychological aberration?

"Crazy."

Yeah, it fits.

That's what you
are, you know that?

You're crazy.

Hadn't given it much thought.

Mr. McCulloch called yesterday.

He wants you to
come to his home,

and here's his address.

Voilà.

Who is he?

He owns an electronics
firm in El Segundo.

But I can cancel it if you like.

No thanks, Peg.

Oh, what about the car?

Bomb squad checked
it out last night.

Clean.

Mannix.

Hi, Joe. I'm your Mr. McCulloch.

I guess I won't be
needing you today after all.

Oh, you're getting to be a
real barrel of laughs, aren't you?

Oh, listen, by the way,

you might check your
glove compartment.

Now, don't worry,
it's not wired.

- Hi.
- Hi.

Call Larry Watson's garage.

Tell him I need
a new windshield.

No Mr. McCulloch, right?

A setup.

Oh, Joe, I'm sorry.

I should have
checked it out further.

Well, it's not a total loss.

He left me a souvenir.

Oh, Joe, he really
means business.

Well, if he doesn't, he's
got a great sense of humor.

Do you know when this was taken?

That, uh, tie I'm
wearing... You recognize it?

It's the one I got
for your birthday.

Two years ago. I wore
it every day for a week,

until that pretty young
lady with the long legs

and the short fuse
spilled coffee on it.

Then we gave it
to a rummage sale.

Where it sold for 50 cents.

Peggy, get me my
appointment book for that week.

Maybe he left us a
clue we can follow.

Here it is, Joe.

Three days as an
industrial security consultant.

Don't remind me.

And that extortion case.

You nailed a man by
the name of Ira Beecher.

Joe, I remember the trial.

Beecher swore he'd get you if
it was the last thing he ever did.

Ira Beecher got out
six months ago, Joe.

He went home to Santa Marta
and got into trouble there, too.

Extortion again?

Something with a
little more class to it.

A hunting accident.

He shot a man
named Tom O'Connor,

a newspaper reporter from L.A.
who was up there on vacation.

But he turned himself
right in, copped a plea,

got six months for manslaughter.

Still in jail?

No, he was released two
weeks ago... good behavior.

Why?

I got a hunch he's been
keeping himself pretty busy.

♪♪

Excuse me. Sheriff in?

Uh, yeah, right in there.

Thanks.

Mannix, right?

Right.

Lieutenant Malcolm from
L.A.P.D. called me about you.

Anything I can do to help out?

Yeah, Sheriff, uh, you know
a man named Ira Beecher?

I'm the one that sent him away.

I hear he's out now.

That's a fact.

What's he doing?

At the rate you fellas
charge for your time,

you must be on to
something pretty big, huh?

You know where I
might find Beecher?

Well, he hasn't got a wife,

and he hasn't got a
house with a kitchen in it,

and there's just one
coffee shop in town.

Man's got to eat.

Doesn't take much detective
work to figure that one out.

Thanks, Sheriff.

Hey,

you didn't come
all the way up here

to talk to a small-time
punk like him, did you?

Yeah, for a start.

Charlie?

See that fellow, there?

Name's Mannix.

Says he came all the way
from LA to talk to Beecher.

You keep an eye on him.

See that he don't
trip over his shoelaces

or something like that.

And how're you today?

Well, that depends.

On what?

Your answer to a question.

Oh, well, uh,

I don't get off till 7:00,

but I never go out
with new customers.

My loss.

What I really wanted to know

is what time does Ira
Beecher usually come in?

He doesn't.

Not anymore.

The Sheriff told me I could
find him here, sooner or later.

Mm-hmm, well, folks in this
town liable to say a lot of things.

Something wrong?

Mister, there's
people in this world

you could set your clock by

how surely something
always goes wrong.

People like Ira Beecher?

My mother always
said he was trash,

a born loser.

In and out of jail all his life,

but, um, he had these
big ideas, you know.

I thought he'd be
my one-way ticket

out of this hole-in-the-wall

What sort of "big ideas"?

Who are you?

Maybe I could help him.

He's already been helped.

By whom?

Ain't but one person in
this town can help anybody.

Who's that?

The boss-lady at
the Bullard Ranch.

Owns everything and everyone.

Last time Ira got out, she
gave him back his old job.

Don't ask me why.

Man just out of
jail for killing a man.

What do you want
to see him about?

Well, uh, he once
made me a promise.

I want to talk to him about it.

Oh, fat chance of him
ever keeping a promise.

I take it he made one to you?

Yeah.

Fresh out of the cooler,

he comes stomping in here like
he had the world up his sleeve.

Only I guess a-a
marriage certificate

wasn't part of it.

You were engaged?

I waited for him all
these years, didn't I?

But, uh, he had big plans.

Gonna move to LA

and live in a big
house with a front lawn,

and, uh,

I guess I wasn't good
enough for him anymore.

Where can I find him?

Like I said, he's working
for the Bullard Ranch.

Ask them.

Howdy, looking for somebody?

Mrs. Bullard.

On what business?

Personal.

Well, if it's personal,
you can talk to me.

Who are you?

Her husband.

I thought Mr. Bullard was dead.

I'm her new husband.

Name's Lee Traherne.

You?

The name is Mannix.

I'm a private investigator.

I'm looking for Ira Beecher.

Why?

I said private investigator.

This way.

Her name is Mrs. Traherne now.

Honey?

Got a fellow here that
says he's a private cop.

Mr. Mannix, my wife.

How do you do?

How do you do, Mr. Mannix?

Won't you come in?

He wants to ask you about Ira.

Ira? Whatever for?

If you've got one
of your headaches,

you don't have to talk to
him if you don't want to.

It's all right; I don't mind.

Please sit down, Mr. Mannix.

Thank you.

Now, what is it that you're
investigating around here?

Oh, nothing, really.

I just came to see Ira Beecher.

I understand he's
working for you.

Yes.

The poor man, he was so
bitter and filled with hatred

when he came out of prison,

and I-I just wanted him to know

that all of his friends hadn't
turned their backs on him.

That's very
understanding of you.

Yes.

I understand men.

I always did.

I think they appreciate
being understood, don't you?

Oh, by all means.

Where can I find Mr. Beecher?

Well, he didn't really
come to work this morning

and having just
moved into a new place,

I doubt whether he
has a telephone yet.

Do you have his address?

Well, it's someplace in town.

I didn't ask.

Actually, I...

I wouldn't have any reason to
go and visit him, now would I?

No, I guess not.

I think you'd better
be going, Mr. Mannix.

You can tell how my
wife isn't feeling too well.

I'm sorry.

Well, uh,

thanks for seeing
me, Mrs. Traherne.

I'm-I'm only sorry that I
couldn't be some real help.

It's quite all right.

Mr. Mannix?

You said you were
looking for Ira Beecher?

That's right.

He's at Moody's Hotel.

He didn't show
up for work today.

Do you have any idea why?

Yeah, my mother
fired him two days ago.

Your mother?

I'm Kirk Bullard.

Your mother didn't
mention she'd fired him.

You know how it is.

We've got us a
nice quiet town here.

Mother doesn't like
anybody stirring up ghosts.

What sort of ghosts?

I'd just as soon
Beecher told you himself.

Has it anything to do
with Tom O'Connor,

the reporter Ira killed
in that hunting accident?

Man can't be a ghost
unless he's dead, right?

Was O'Connor really
just vacationing here,

or was he on a story?

I'm sorry, Mr. Mannix.

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

Mannix, I don't recollect
asking you to hang around.

I thought maybe
one of the hired hands

could tell me where
Beecher was living.

That is not one
of the hired hands.

What'd he tell you?

That Ira Beecher had been fired.

That's right, and I fired him.

You?

I don't let anybody
upset my wife

for any reason whatsoever.

I'll keep that in mind.

♪♪

Just a minute.

Yeah?

Does Ira Beecher live here?

That's right.

I got his luggage,

and he ain't going nowhere
till his rent's paid up.

Well, I didn't come
here to carry him off.

I just wanted to talk to him.

First apartment,
head of the stairs.

Thanks.

You killed him.

An unarmed man.

In cold blood.

♪♪

I don't understand, Mannix.

You're a professional.

How can a thing like
that happen to you?

Like I told you... I
was going up the stairs.

He fired two shots at me.

I fired back.

Yeah? What'd he use for a gun?

Mrs. Moody, how many
shots did you hear?

Only shot I heard
was him shooting at Ira.

I'll tell you again, Sheriff.

Ira shot at me first.

Why?

Well, I can only guess.

A couple of years
ago, I sent him to jail.

At the time, he
swore to get even.

So you figured you'd
better get him first.

Now, let's get one
thing straight, Sheriff.

Ira Beecher fired
two shots at me first.

I did not mean to kill him.

It was self-defense.

Then how come the only shot
Mrs. Moody heard was yours?

I'm sure she had a good reason.

Or a sudden hearing loss.

Now, looky here, mister.

All right, all right.

Give me your car keys.

Put the cuffs on him, Charley.

Now, wait a minute.

There's got to be a
couple of bullet holes

in that wall where
he shot at me.

All right, let's see.

Go.

Would you like to show me
where the bullets went in?

Well, that's beautiful.

I was suckered into killing him.

What's that supposed to mean?

He wasn't alone down
there in that room.

Who was with him?

Somebody who knew Ira
threatened to get me once.

Probably convinced Ira I
came to town to kill him,

gave him a gun and said
he'd better get me first.

Why no bullet holes?

Well, that's pretty
obvious, isn't it, Sheriff?

There were blanks in
the gun he was given.

Ira was meant to get killed.

If you can get a jury to believe

all of that, Mannix,
it's okay with me.

Sheriff, who do you
know in this town

that might have
wanted Ira Beecher dead

badly enough to set me up?

Let's go.

Take the car. Bring some help.

- He won't get far.
- Right.

What do you want?

I suppose you heard about Ira.

I'm sorry, Mona.

Somebody in this
town needed Ira dead

badly enough to set
me up as the middleman.

All I know is you shot him.

I swear it was rigged.

Your gun killed him.

I thought he was shooting at me.

It was self-defense.

You expect me to believe that?

It's the truth.

Now, think, Mona.

Who in this town had
reason to want Ira killed?

I don't know.

Probably lots of people.

What made you come back here?

You think I'd help you?

Well, uh, could I at
least use your telephone?

You've used me enough.

I wish I'd never
set eyes on you.

♪♪

♪♪

Man, you've sure
got a lot of good folks

howling for your blood.

Relax. Hop in.

I'm on your side.

Which side is that?

You'll find out when
the time comes.

I don't know if I can trust you.

Well, I'm hardly in a position
to get you into any trouble.

You never can tell.

Tell me, uh...

what story was Tom
O'Connor digging up

when someone
mistook him for a deer

on property belonging
to your mother.

And to Lee Traherne.

Does that mean he
had something to hide?

Can't imagine what.

Unless it had something to
do with my old man's death.

How did he die?

Cattle stampede.

Best horseman in the county.

Fell off his horse
and got stomped.

Now, you believe that,
you'll believe anything.

What do you believe?

That he was helped off his horse

by a shot from a rifle.

Didn't the coroner
find the bullet?

Seemed that nobody
told the coroner

to look for a bullet.

And he's not a
man who will scratch

where it doesn't itch.

Well, I was away at
college at the time.

And when you came home?

I saw Lee Traherne
doing his best

to console my mother, and
I drew my own conclusions

that maybe he had something
to do with my father's death.

Did you tell your mother
what you thought?

That what you'd have
done, Mr. Mannix?

So you tipped off
Tom O'Connor instead.

Yeah.

And he went to the coroner.

He asked for the
body to be exhumed.

He even threatened to call
the state attorney general.

Well, later that afternoon,
by a remarkable coincidence,

he was found in the woods.

He seemed accidentally
to have leaned

against a bullet going past.

And Ira Beecher
nobly took the fall.

Why?

Some people like money.

And why was Ira Beecher killed?

If he saw my father being shot,

now, that would be
worth good money.

Might have even
made him greedier

when he came out of jail
and the best he could get

was his old job back and
some extra pocket money.

Only... the only trouble was...

What?

My mother was the only person

who knew that I had
talked to a reporter.

You think she helped
Traherne all along?

You're going to have to make
it on your own from here in.

Sheriff's car is
right behind us.

Now, look, when he
pulls up on my side,

I'll slow down and you jump.

You ready?

Ready.

Okay, here he comes.

Go.

♪♪

Mona, please.

Ain't you brought me
enough grief already?

Mona, I don't know
who else can help me.

Tough.

I feel for you.

Mona, I think I have
a pretty good idea now

why certain people
needed Ira dead.

What do I care?

He was nothing to me anymore.

Wasn't he?

Don't you want to see
the people responsible

brought to justice?

By you?

If you help me.

I'm scared.

I don't have Ira anymore,
but I still have my life.

Mona, if those
people aren't put away,

you'll go on being scared,
and with good reason.

All right.

What do you want to know?

Now, I think Tom O'Connor

was killed because he
was on to something.

And I think Ira was
paid to take the rap.

He always had a hard
time saying no to people.

Except to me.

Where was Ira when
Tom O'Connor was killed?

Do you know?

With me.

Why didn't you tell the police?

'Cause I...

I loved him and he told
me to keep my mouth shut.

Now I'm stuck with the lie.

If I talk, they'll
send me to jail.

Mona...

who paid Ira to take the rap?

If he got paid,
where's the money?

He sure didn't spend
it on me or on himself.

Uh, maybe they'll
splurge it on his funeral.

You said when Ira got
out of jail he had big plans.

Was he blackmailing somebody?

Why didn't you ask
him before you shot him?

Mona, it was a frame.

Whoever Ira was blackmailing
set me up to kill him.

To make it look
like a grudge killing.

No questions asked, case closed.

I think you'd better go.

And keep right on
going until you get

as far as you can
from this town,

or we'll both end up
like Ira or that reporter.

Ira saw Old Man Bullard
get shot, didn't he?

Is that why he was
blackmailing Lee Traherne?

Ira was a born loser.

That's why him and
me were two of a kind.

Go out through the
bedroom window.

Turn right and keep running.

Thanks, Mona.

Mona! Open up.

Come on, make
it easy on yourself.

He's not in here.

No sign of him.

Mona, you're in
big trouble, baby.

I'd like to use your phone.

No.

It goes through the switchboard.

The operator would know
you're calling from my house.

There's a pay
phone at the bus stop.

Thanks.

Only do me one favor.

Don't come back.

♪♪

Operator.

Operator, I want
to call Los Angeles.

555-double-6, double-4.

Hello.

I have a collect call
from Santa Marta.

A Mr. Joe Mannix.

I'll accept the
charges, Operator.

Joe.

Peggy.

Joe, do you know
what time it is?

And where are you?

I've been trying to
reach you all day.

Now listen:

Call Art Malcolm, tell
him I'm in Santa Marta.

I'm being hunted.

I've been framed for murder.

What?!

Well, what about
the local police?

For all I know,
they're in on it.

I'll call Art right away.

Mannix, your three
minutes are up.

Kirk, I'm... I'm
worried about you.

You've been
acting so odd lately.

Have I?

There is nothing wrong here.

All right, yes, yes,
your father died.

But you still belong here.

The only difference is that now

you have a mother
and a stepfather

who love you and want you here.

I don't want you to forget that.

How could I?

Then why have you
been acting so strangely,

as if... as if you
were harboring

heaven knows what...
Some guilty secret.

What might that guilty
secret be, Mother?

How could I know?

Maybe there isn't any secret.

Of course there isn't.

As far as I know.

I suppose this is
just an adolescent bid

for attention on your part.

- A cry for love.
- Exactly.

How did anybody ever get along
before they invented psychology?

Leave it alone, Kirk.

Do you hear me?

I hear you.

Darling...

it's infinitely flattering

for a mother to know
that her son still loves her.

But this... this jealousy
of my new husband,

this distrust...

I don't know how to explain
it, except that it's unhealthy.

Yes, Mother.

Kirk, you are a very
disturbed young man.

You going to have me put away?

Is this the shortcut
to the sheriff's office?

The sheriff'll turn up
when we want him.

First, my wife and
I would like to know

why you'd come all this way

just to kill some poor
little fella, fresh out of jail.

Now move.

This way.

Seems we have company.

Kirk, you're excused.

Kirk!

Coffee?

I understand you found
the man that you were after.

He did better than that, honey.

He killed him.

The sheriff's looking
for him all over the place.

Well, then why did
you bring him here?

I thought you might
like to talk to him first.

Why?

He seems to have some doubts

about the, uh, naturalness
of Mr. Bullard's death.

Well, he's quite right.

It was an unnatural death.

My late husband was
a superb horseman.

Mr. Mannix harbors the
notion that Mr. Bullard was shot.

And that Mr. O'Connor,
the reporter, found out,

so naturally, we had
to get rid of him as well.

And Ira Beecher.

You were the one
that called me in L.A.

pretending to be Beecher,
booby-trapped my office,

all to get me up
here to kill him for you

after he started
blackmailing you.

It almost worked, too.

Oh, and that gun with
the blanks... neat touch.

My!

We are desperate characters...

aren't we?

But what would make
poor Ira Beecher so anxious

to take full responsibility
for Mr. O'Connor's death?

Is it possible, Mr. Mannix, that
maybe he had something to hide?

I guess you made it worth
his while or thought you had.

Maybe he saw something he
figured was worth more money

than he'd been promised.

And what might that have been?

The shooting of Mr. Bullard.

But Mr. Bullard wasn't shot.

We'll know that when
his body is exhumed.

On whose authority?

Well, not your sheriff's.

I know you've got
a leash on him.

But I don't think you'll be able

to pay off the State
Attorney General's Office.

Mr. Mannix, your
unfortunate profession

has given you a warped
view of the human soul.

I don't think I like
you very much.

And if you'll excuse me,
I have many things to do.

Mrs. Traherne...

when your, uh,
husband caught me,

I was on the phone
to my secretary.

Very soon there'll be someone
here from the state police,

someone who's
not in your pocket.

Is that true? Did he
get to make a call?

He may have gotten through.

I'm not sure.

Well, then, it's obvious
what has to be done.

That's what I figured.

I do love you, darling.

Help!

Straight ahead and to your left!

Get him!

Don't you shoot him
unless you have to!

Let the sheriff do it!

♪♪

We got a call from L.A.

Any sign of Mannix yet?

State Highway
Patrol. Identify yourself.

My name is Mannix.

The man following
me is trying to kill me.

All right, let's go.

Your father loved this place.

Take care of it.

Well, I guess it's
up to you, Kirk.

Yeah.