All language subtitles for Mannix S08E22 Design for Dying.DVDRip.NonHI.en.CBS

♪♪

- Mannix?
- That's right.

I'm Darrell Bigelow.

Yeah, I know.

Why here, Mr. Bigelow?

Why not at your paper?

I couldn't have it known that I
was hiring a private detective.

This matter must be
absolutely confidential.

Fair enough.

The owner of this carousel
owes me a... favor or two,

so we're assured
of absolute privacy.

Except for your, uh...

Employees.

They can be trusted.

What's the job, Mr. Bigelow?

I want you to find my wife.

How long has she been missing?

She disappeared a week ago.

Her name is Rebekah.

You think she might
have been kidnapped?

No. Well, there'd have
been some word by now.

Has she ever, uh,
"disappeared" before?

I want you to find her and
bring her back, Mr. Mannix.

She's my wife...

and I love her.

Of course.

There is another
aspect to consider,

a selfish one, perhaps.

My friends in politics
have tested the waters.

They say the
temperature's just right

for me to wade in and, uh,

become a candidate
for elective office.

Now, any hint of a scandal...

Scandal?

You think she may
be with another man?

Well...

last summer...

Rebekah met someone.

Who is he?

You might say he was a...

a professional boat bum.

What was his name?

I don't know.

Rebekah told me a little
about him when she...

came home.

I realize now that
she wasn't over

whatever attraction
he had for her,

and my instinct leads
me to believe that...

she may be with him again.

I want her back, Mr. Mannix.

You'll find her for me?

I'll do what I can.

Uh, this should be
enough to get you started.

Very generous.

There's one other
thing, Mr. Mannix.

My wife means more to
me than any political career.

Naturally.

♪♪

Hello, Tom.

Hi, Joe. You look beat.

Yeah, well, I've been
checking on marinas

up and down the coast
all day, plus a few motels.

- Who are you chasing?
- A married woman,

cheating on her husband
with some... boat bum.

Take your pick.

Maybe half of those
boats have a gal onboard

who should be home
cooking the old man's dinner.

Hey, you, uh, seen
this one around?

Down here?

I don't think I'd recognize
her if she was my sister.

Yeah.

Cheating wives wear wigs

and shades the size
of headlamps, Joe.

You get to know the look.

You think I'm
wasting my time, huh?

I hate to say so.

- Well, thanks, Tom.
- Okay.

- Say hello to Mary.
- I will.

♪♪

Joe, there's a
seedy-looking character

inside waiting for you.

Says he's got
something that you want.

Yeah, what's he selling?

Something to do with
the Bigelow woman.

Well, thanks for
keeping him warm.

You Mannix?

That's right.

Who are you?

The name's Gabriel.

I take pictures for a living.

And what's that got to
do with Rebekah Bigelow?

I heard you were
looking for her.

And where'd you hear that?

Desk clerk at the Dolphin Motel.

Well, that's funny. I
talked to him earlier today.

He said he knew nothing
about Mrs. Bigelow.

You should have
laid on some bread.

The guy's hungry.

Which probably goes
for you, too, right?

Correct.

About one large
bill would do it.

Uh, with two zeros on it.

- Oh, really?
- Yeah.

And what would I be paying for?

A picture of the Bigelow
dame with her boyfriend

taken just three days
ago at the Dolphin.

Interested?

Interested.

But I'd have to see it first.

Hmm.

Who's the guy?

That's your problem, Mannix.
I only take the pictures.

How did you get this?

Caught them when
they weren't looking.

You just happened to be there?

I smell the action when
dames like Rebekah Bigelow

jump the tracks.

Why didn't you take
this to Bigelow himself?

Too scary, man.

Bigelow's a big wheel,
publishes a newspaper.

Could make trouble.

Do we deal, Mannix?

Yeah, we deal.

That's what I like to hear.

If the picture checks out.

♪♪

Hi.

Remember me? I
was here yesterday.

A lot of people go in
and out of this place.

I had a talk with
your friend Gabriel.

Gabriel?

Yeah, he said you were just
crazy about the color green.

It's hard times, mister.

Four kids with a sweet
tooth, and sugar the way it is.

Uh, this couple
still registered here?

How much you
putting in the candy jar?

You know, I was wondering,
uh, you and Gabriel

wouldn't be running a shakedown
racket around here, would you?

Oh, you know, photographs,
anonymous calls to wives afraid

of getting caught, letters to
husbands... things like that.

The police...

My friends, the police...

They'd love to bust
a racket like that.

Now, what about this couple?

They checked out the
day before yesterday.

Going where?

They didn't tell
me, and I didn't ask.

- How did they register?
- Mr. and Mrs. Vince Larkin.

Now, you must have
a list of the phone calls

they made on their bill.

I'd like to see them.

Now, look, mister.

Gabriel takes the pictures.

What he does with 'em later,
I don't care and I don't know.

I just let him hang around
here with his camera.

Yeah, sure, I know,
you're a model citizen.

Uh, this phone call they
made to Palm Springs.

You mind dialing it for me?

- That's a long-distance phone call.
- Charge it to Gabriel.

Mabel.

Get me Palm Springs.

683-1902.

WOMAN: Good afternoon.

Desert Lights Hotel.

Oh, thank you, uh,
that's all I wanted to know.

Oh, by the way, uh,

there's a fellow out there
behind the potted plant.

He'll probably follow
me when I leave here.

Tell him I'm going to
the Desert Lights Hotel

in Palm Springs, huh?

Mr. and Mrs. Larkin checked
out early this morning.

Without leaving a
forwarding address, I'll bet.

You called it.

Hey, you mind if I take a
look at the suite they were in?

Sir, that suite rents
for $100 a day.

I'll take about 15
minutes' worth.

133.

Thanks.

I beg your pardon, señor.

You have taken these rooms?

For a little while.

Well, I will fix the bed.

Oh, no, that's not necessary.

I won't be sleeping here.

You are paying
not to sleep here?

Well, you see, I'm, uh...

well, I'm sort of a
detective, señora.

¿Un oficial?

A policeman?

Well, that's close.

I'd like to know
about the couple

that occupied
this suite last night.

You saw them?

Oh, sí, señor. La señora...

she was muy bonita,
muy simpática,

but ay, ay, ay, how
they fight with each other!

You heard them?

Oh, sí, señor.

From my little laundry room
where I work down the hall.

I could hear them...
¿cómo se dice?

Screaming.

Señora... she say
that she would not live

like a poor woman with any man

who did nothing with his life
except drink and sail a boat.

And after that, he say
that he was going alone

to his house in la playa...

Uh, uh... uh, at Topanga.

Well, uh, muchas
gracias, señora.

- Oh, por nada, señor.
- Hey, if you don't mind,

I'd like to leave this
radio on for a minute.

I'm sorry, señor, we are not...

It's all right. It's
been paid for.

Mrs. Bigelow?

Now, it's all right,
Mrs. Bigelow.

Nobody's gonna hurt you.

Your husband
hired me to find you.

My name is Mannix.

He tried to kill me.

Who?

Vince. Vince Larkin.

Can I get you anything?

Oh, yes, pl-please,

could... could I
have a glass of water

and-and my purse? Oh.

Oh... God.

Why did Larkin beat you?

Because I told him
we were finished.

Have you any idea
where Larkin went?

Oh, he... he has a boat.

That's all he cares
about... His boat.

A catamaran?

Yes.

Well, it's beached outside.

Where else could he have gone?

Oh, I don't know.

I don't know. I don't care.

I just want to be
rid of him. Forever.

I just...

I want to feel clean again.

I'll, uh, take you home.

Do you think Darrell
would let me come home?

Do you want to go?

More than anything.

Then I think he will.

♪♪

♪♪

I'm sorry, darling.

For everything I've done.

To you and to myself.

Well, the important
thing is, you're home.

It will never happen again.

I swear it.

Now, there's no need
to grovel, Rebekah.

A husband's responsible
for what his wife does.

I'd like it if you kissed me.

It's not necessary.

Thank you, Mr. Mannix.

You'll find a check
in the morning mail.

Okay, Joe, what's the matter?

I don't know.

I got a feeling a
whole lot of people

have been doing a whole
lot of lying to me. Why?

Oh, Joe, leave it alone.

Mrs. Bigelow's back in the nest,

your fee is in the
bank, and it's over.

Yeah, well, it
was just too easy.

I picked up all
the right marbles.

It was a setup...

All the way to the beach
house and Rebekah Bigelow.

Joe, the lady was beaten up.

Yeah, I know. Beaten up and
all, it still doesn't make sense.

Now, why... why
couldn't I make a move

without that chauffeur
being on my tail?

Yeah, and that chambermaid
at the Desert Lights Hotel.

She couldn't have heard a
thing in that laundry room.

Joe, let it be.

Spend the money
on something nice...

Like me, for instance.

Flowers, candy.

That's it.

Why, thank you.

Now, take a look
at this picture.

The flowers...
Look at the flowers.

Roses.

Yeah, in bloom.

Joe, roses have a habit
of blooming every year.

Yeah, but not all year-round.

Now, Gabriel said
he took this picture

three days ago at the Dolphin.

Now, I saw that rosebush.

There wasn't a blossom on it.

So this picture with Larkin
in Mrs. Bigelow's arms

must have been taken months ago.

What's going on, Joe?

I don't know.
Blackmail? A fast shuffle?

All I know for sure
is that Gabriel,

the photographer,
has to be in on it.

Oh, Joe, so he did take the
picture some months ago.

Maybe this is the first
chance he's had to shop it.

He's peddling a
hot item. Why wait?

I mean, the affair could
be dead, like that rosebush.

So what's the answer?

Find Larkin.

Yeah, I thought that darn
fool Larkin must have wanted

to commit suicide to take
his cat out on a day like this.

Wind's down now, but earlier
it was howling up a storm.

Then what happened, Mr. Brady?

Well, I saw Larkin going
out through the breakers

from my house right over there.

And, then, uh, out a ways,

the boat capsized, and he
went overboard into the water.

I-I tried to reach him, but
I couldn't fight that surf.

Any sign of the body?

No, not so far,
but they're looking.

Hey, I'm colder
than a shrimp on ice.

How about knocking off?

Okay. Thank you, Mr. Brady.

Well, there you have
the story of Vince Larkin,

who, on a blustery morning,

started to take his
catamaran out...

Oh!

Now, that's a dangerous toy.

Now, who the hell are you?

The name is Mannix.
I'm a private investigator.

Thanks.

What do you want here?

I was looking for Vince Larkin.

Oh.

Try the ocean. He's
out there somewhere.

You, uh, related to Larkin?

Related?

That's a laugh.

I'm Maggie Larkin.

His wife?

Well, I ain't his sister.

Yeah.

- You want a belt?
- No, thanks.

Look, I'm sorry.

- About Vince?
- Mm-hmm.

Don't be. I'm not
gonna miss him.

When did you last
see your husband?

Seven months ago?

Divorced?

The kind of marriage I had,

you couldn't tell
the difference.

What brought you back here?

I got tired waiting table
in hamburger joints.

I needed money.

Vince had it.

I thought he was broke.

He had it.

A lot?

Enough.

And you wanted your share?

Hey, a wife's
entitled, isn't she?

Mmm.

Have you, uh, ever seen this?

Rebekah Bigelow.

You know her?

What was I supposed
to be, surprised?

I've seen that picture before.

That and some others
a lot more interesting.

With Mrs. Bigelow?

With Mrs. Bigelow.

When?

Last summer.

How, uh, interesting
were these other pictures?

Hmm...

Well, I'll tell you.

It was a hot Fourth of July,

but nowhere near as hot
as those little snapshots

- Vince tucked away in his pocket.
- Hmm.

And what happened then?

He split.

Where?

How do I know? He
walked out, left me flat.

Was he going to
blackmail Darrell Bigelow?

Sure, he was.

I'll bet he paid plenty.

Did you ever contact Bigelow?

Once.

When?

Ten days ago in his office.

Why?

I told you, I got
tired slinging hash.

I mean, she stole Vince
from me, didn't she?

I got abandoned.

Her husband owed me something.

And what did Bigelow say?

Ugh. He never heard of Vince.

He sat there behind
that big desk like...

like maybe I crawled
out of the woodwork.

He scared me.

He isn't the scaring type.

Well, he scared me, buster.

Mm. Now, look, uh,
suppose I find Vince for you?

- What's that, a joke?
- No.

Vince is dead.

Well, I'm not sure.

Ask the sharks.

I intend to, Maggie.

♪♪

Gabriel!

- Who is it?
- Joe Mannix.

- I'm busy.
- Well, I want to talk to you.

- Some other time, Mannix. Blow!
- Hey, Gabriel, baby,

come on out of there, or I'm
gonna come in and drag you out.

Okay, you're
asking for it, Mannix.

This pan is full of acid.

Put it down.

Know where you can
buy a Seeing Eye dog?

Now, Gabriel, you make
another move with that

and you're gonna be drinking it.

Easy, huh?

What do you want?

Some answers.

Now, this picture was,
uh, taken last summer,

not last week.

So?

So, Vince Larkin took this,

and some other
incriminating snapshots

to the Bigelows last July.

It was a blackmail caper,
and you were in on it.

I want those other pictures.

I don't know
anything about them.

Uh-huh. Oh, why
do I waste my time?

Ah, just call the police, and...

have them search the place.

Okay, okay!

Why hustle me? You
found the Bigelow dame.

Ah, too easy.

- And got paid a lot of bread.
- Too much.

Well, you're not pinning
a blackmail rap on me.

All I did was a job
for Vince Larkin.

He wanted pictures, I took them.

Where?

At the Dolphin.

At Larkin's beach
house in the bedroom.

How?

He cut a peephole
in the closet door.

Cute.

Now, those other pictures.

There's the roll I shot.

Let's see. You're a real artist.

- The light wasn't too good.
- Mm.

Look, my end of the
deal was a flat fee.

A guy wants pictures
of his own action, okay.

I don't ask why.

What the guy does
with them is his business.

I'm just a camera.

Don't be coy.

You knew Vince Larkin
was going to use these

to blackmail Mrs. Bigelow.

Maybe I did. Maybe
I guessed he was.

All I know is, I
got shortchanged.

I never got dime
one out of the job.

Larkin came here,
picked up the roll,

said he'd pay me in a week
or so, and then disappeared.

When was that?

July 7. I remember it

'cause it was after the
weekend of the Fourth.

Okay, now the negatives.

You know, the stuff's
mine. I paid for the raw stock.

Uh-uh. They belong to Bigelow,

and I'm going to see
that he gets them.

At least you don't
have to pay five bucks

to go to an X-rated movie.

Mr. Mannix, ma'am.

Sit down.

Oh, would you care for a drink?

No, thank you.

Well, your call
came as a surprise.

Was there some particular
reason you wanted to see me?

I needed some information.

About what?

A day last summer...
July seventh.

I thought you might
be able to tell me

what happened on that day.

Oh, I am so stupid about dates.

Did something happen last
summer on July the seventh?

Vince Larkin brought
some pictures to your house.

Oh.

Did you see them?

Professionally.

Where are they?

Burned. I still
have the negatives.

Why didn't you burn
the negatives, too?

When I have the
information I need.

What information?

Vince Larkin came to your house

on July seventh to
blackmail you, didn't he?

Oh, blackmail.

Oh, how can I make
you understand?

Vince brought those
here to show them to me.

He was very vain, you know.

He wanted to turn
me on, or to horrify me.

I scarcely know which.

But he certainly didn't...

demand money from
me, or from Darrell.

Where was your husband?

At the office, I suppose.

And he never saw the pictures?

Well, of course not.

Do you think I would
have allowed...?

Oh, wait a minute.
I just remembered.

Darrell wasn't at the office.

An old friend of his, a
typesetter, had just died.

He'd helped Darrell
start the newspaper.

Darrell was making
arrangements for the funeral.

What was the typesetter's name?

What difference does it make?

Well, I like all
the pieces to fit

when I'm working on a puzzle.

And they don't?

Well, I think they will
when I find Vince Larkin.

Find him?

You mean you're
still looking for him?

That's right.

But Vince is dead!

How can you look for a dead man?

Nobody's found the
body. That worries me.

Doesn't it worry you?

Mrs. Bigelow.

I finally located
your undertaker.

A Mr. Hallihan.

And did he handle it?

Yes. He buried your typesetter.

The name on the headstone
read Ezekial Tanner.

Mr. Bigelow paid for it all.

Mm-hmm. When was he buried?

Mr. Tanner was laid
to rest the eighth of July

at the Oak Manor Cemetery.

Any family?

No, and no viewing.

Closed coffin.

Mr. Hallihan said
that Mr. Bigelow said

that Mr. Tanner wasn't a
man to stand on ceremony.

Mm.

Oh, and another thing, too, Joe.

I checked the file, but
there's no death certificate.

Well, I think I
can tell you why.

Why?

Because Ezekial Tanner died

in a home for the aged

just outside of Tucson,
Arizona, July seventh.

I picked this up out of the
morgue of Bigelow's paper.

It's, uh, Tanner's obit.

What does it all mean, Joe?

It means I can stop chasing
around after Vince Larkin.

Do you know where he is?

Mm-hmm.

Is he alive?

No, no, no, no,
he's dead, all right,

but not out in the Pacific.

Now, I think somebody
killed Vince Larkin

and buried him as
old Ezekial Tanner.

You wanted to see me?

Mr. Hallihan?

Has someone important
to you passed over?

You might say that, yes.

It's always sad, and yet
death is a part of life, isn't it?

That's very comforting.

You're interested in
purchasing a casket?

Well, let's say that, I'm,
uh, interested in a casket.

Uh, this is our finest model.

Finest pillow that
money can buy.

Thick down, covered in
satin, as is the entire casket.

It's very cozy.

I understand you
service the Bigelow family

whenever the sad
occasion occurs.

Yes, indeed. A real
gentleman, Mr. Bigelow.

As a matter of fact,
he helped start the firm.

Hmm.

Why do you ask?

My name is Mannix.

I'm a private investigator.

Oh, yes.

Your secretary called in
reference to Ezekial Tanner.

That's right.

And you represent?

The widow of the deceased.

Mr. Tanner, sir, was
over 90 years old

and a bachelor.

Yes. Well, uh...

the widow I had in mind
can't be a day over 30,

and, uh, had nothing
to do with Mr. Tanner.

I understand Mr. Bigelow
took care of all

of the funeral arrangements?

Well, he had the body
shipped from Arizona.

Suppose I wanted
Mr. Tanner's remains exhumed?

Exhumed?

What is the usual procedure?

Uh, well, Mr. Bigelow
is the responsible party.

You would need
his written consent

and a legal order from
the District Attorney's office.

But let me remind
you, Mr. Mannix,

the procedure is not usual.

The dead deserve
to rest in peace.

Oh.

Well, I'll do my best

not to disturb
Mr. Tanner too much.

Joe, I'm bushed.
I want to go home.

Forget about Larkin.
You're just guessing.

Art, I'm not guessing.

Vince Larkin was murdered.

He's fish bait. Brady saw him.

- His boat capsized.
- Oh, come on, Art.

Brady's playing a record
he was paid to play.

- Prove it.
- Dig up Tanner, and I will.

Exhuming a body's
a serious matter.

What, do you want me to
go to the D.A. with a hunch?

He'll burn my tail.

Look, suppose I get
Bigelow's written consent?

Okay. You get Bigelow's
consent on paper...

and I'll carry the ball.

Oh, you're beautiful, Art.

Malcolm. Yeah, hold on. Joe?

It's for you.

Who is it?

I don't know. Some woman.

Hello.

This is Maggie Larkin, Mannix.

Your secretary
gave me this number.

I-I thought you should know

that, uh, Vince's body washed
ashore about an hour ago.

You sure?

Oh, it's Vince, all right.

Who found him?

Boy on the beach.

He called the lifeguard station,

and they brought
the body to the house.

Some men from the sheriff's
station are on the way.

I'll be right there.

All right?

Fine.

You said $25,000.

I said 20.

And you get lost.

Okay.

This time forever.

That a promise?

Mm-hmm.

Let the tide take her out.

Maggie?

He's Darrell Bigelow's
chauffeur, Art.

He goes by the name of Hobie.

All right. I'll put out an APB,

but I've got to have a charge.

For openers, try
aggravated assault.

What about Larkin's wife?

Well, I'm not sure.
The house was empty.

She could be gone...

- Or?
- Dead.

Well, fine. Now we
got two missing bodies.

Look, Art, I still
need that order

to exhume Ezekial
Tanner's body tomorrow.

Did you get Bigelow's consent?

I'm going after it now.

You can start
greasing the wheels.

Mr. Mannix.

Mrs. Bigelow.

Well, this is a surprise.

Don't you ever sleep?

What happened to you?

A little fun at the beach.

Mr. Mannix.

What are you doing
here at this hour?

Mr. Bigelow, I'd
like your consent

to exhume the body
of Ezekial Tanner.

Zeke Tanner?

Why?

I think someone else
was buried in his grave.

Well, now, that's absurd.

I saw to Zeke's burial myself.

Who else could be buried there?

Vince Larkin.

You don't really believe that?

By, uh, what authority
do you make this request?

The police know I'm here,
but I need your written consent.

I don't understand this.

And I must confess
I don't like it at all.

Meaning you won't cooperate.

- Oh, I'll cooperate.
- Darrell?

Rebekah, we must
do what's right.

But I'm telling you this...

that if this exhumation
comes to nothing,

you haven't heard
the last from me.

Now, come along,

I'll get you that
written consent.

Oh, by the way, is
your chauffeur around?

Oh, Hobie?

He quit yesterday.

These are the remains
of a very old man.

Upwards of 90.

Well, Joe, Bigelow has
already called the commissioner.

He's gonna have your hide.

Yeah, I know.

Okay, Joe, so you
made a mistake.

You've had 24
hours to let it simmer.

Now let's go on to
bigger and better things.

I still say Larkin's
not in the ocean.

I think it was staged to
make everybody believe it.

Then where is he?

That's the big question.

I'll see you in the morning.

Well, here use this.

If you're gonna brood,
might as well be comfortable.

Good night, Joe.

That's it.

What did I do this time?

Pillow. There was no
pillow in Tanner's coffin.

Maybe Hallihan was
trying to cut costs.

Or maybe he was burying
two for the price of one.

Or maybe Vince Larkin's got
the lower berth in a two-man coffin.

Yes?

Mrs. Bigelow? Joe Mannix.

Mr. Mannix, haven't
you bothered us enough?

Rebekah...

I'll take this call.

Mannix, I'm warning you.

I've already spoken
to the authorities.

Mr. Bigelow, I want your consent

to dig up Ezekial
Tanner's body again.

You must be insane.

Do I have your consent?

Absolutely not.

I guess I'll have
to dig it up myself.

Tonight.

But why?

Because I think Vince
Larkin's buried in that coffin, too.

Malcolm.

Sure too bad, Art.

What's too bad?

That you're not going
to be able to go home

and get a good night's sleep.

Why can't I?

Because I'm going
to the cemetery

to dig up Ezekial
Tanner's corpse again.

Joe, you must be crazy.

That's what Bigelow said.

I'll have to stop you.

The commissioner's
going to lift your license.

Look, Art, a deal.

If I don't deliver Vince
Larkin's corpse to you,

and Vince Larkin's murderer,
you can throw the book at me.

♪♪

Freeze!

Yeah, well, you better
get that coffin up again.

There are two bodies in it
and one of them is Larkin.

This is a nice little
get-together you arranged.

Yeah, thanks for
showing up, Art.

There are still a couple
of missing guests.

Yes, sir?

Is Mrs. Bigelow in?

Just a moment, please.

Mrs. Bigelow, Mr. Mannix.

Show him in, Martha.

Yes, ma'am.

Mrs. Bigelow, I hope
I'm not disturbing you.

No, not at all. I
couldn't sleep.

I've been waiting for
Darrell to come home.

Well, I wouldn't
wait up too long.

Why not?

He's probably at
the police station.

Police headquarters?

Being booked for the
murder of Vince Larkin.

Can I, uh, pour you a drink?

Please.

I suppose you
found Vince's body.

Yes.

In Tanner's coffin.

Where your husband
arranged to hide it.

Darrell didn't arrange it.

I did.

- With Hallihan?
- Yes.

I don't believe
you, Mrs. Bigelow.

Darrell didn't kill
Vince Larkin, I did.

Last July when he came to the
house with those awful pictures,

and it wasn't the money.

I would have gladly
paid him his blackmail.

But I knew Vince
better than that.

I knew nothing would stop him.

That sooner or later the
scandal would destroy

what... what Darrell
wanted most in his life...

A political career.

I'd already done enough to him.

I couldn't let him
suffer that, too.

What about Maggie Larkin?

Oh, she should
have been satisfied

with what she got the
first time she came,

but she wanted more.

So she came back.

That was very stupid of her.

Why did your husband hire me?

That's obvious, isn't it?

Yeah.

You were staging Vince
Larkin's second death,

and you needed me to confirm it.

Yes.

That took a lot of cooperation.

Darrell is not
without influence.

He has helped many people

who would do anything
they could to repay him.

They simply said what
he told them to say.

Mmm. And I'm sure he
made it well worth their while.

Well, of course.

He was trying to protect me.

Mrs. Bigelow, I'm afraid
I still don't believe you.

Well, damn you, believe it.

I killed Vince Larkin.

It's no use, Rebekah.

It won't work.

You mustn't listen
to her, Mr. Mannix.

Rebekah couldn't kill anyone.

I killed Larkin, right
here in this library.

July seventh.

And I assure you,
he deserved it.

No, no, Darrell,
don't-don't say any more.

Darling, you don't
owe me anything.

I take it the police didn't
find you at your paper?

I heard them arriving.

The only miscalculation, my
dear, was hiring Mr. Mannix.

And that was my fault.

Why didn't you just take
your money and go away?

Somehow I don't like being used.

Well, now, there's no
need to worry, dear.

They can't touch us.

Why, because you
own a newspaper?

You have power?

Well, it helps.

Two people are
dead, Mr. Bigelow.

Crime, Mr. Mannix,

is just another news
item to a newspaper.

Good copy.

Sometimes it even
makes the headlines.

See you on the front page.