Original subtitles

Try this for a deep, dark secret.

The great detective Remington Steele...

He doesn't exist. I invented him.

Follow: I always loved excitement,

so I studied and apprenticed...

and put my name on an office.

But absolutely nobody knocked down my door.

A female private investigator seemed so . . . feminine.

So I invented a superior.

A decidedly masculine superior.

Suddenly, there were cases around the block.

It was working like a charm.

Until the day he walked in...

with his blue eyes and mysterious past.

And before I knew it...

he assumed Remington Steele's identity.

Now I do the work and he takes the bows.

It's a dangerous way to live...

but as long as people buy it...

I can get the job done.

We never mix business with pleasure.

Well, almost never.

I don't even know his real name.

Doctorate In Ornithology

Remington Steele Detective Agency. Please hold.

Yes, Mrs. Stanton. Tuesday at nine.

Mr. Steele will be delighted.

Absolutely delighted. Yes.

And so will I.

Come out of there.

You're going to be late! You ARE late!

- Want me to kick it in? - Not yet.

You gave your word. And everyone knows...

that Remington Steele's word is his BOND.

- Laura, that's a most unfair tactic. - Not if it worked.

I don't want to be the honorary chairman of the committe to save the bald eagle.

- It's good PR for the agency. - What?

A gaggle of blue haired women, prattling on about saving the bald eagle while they wear...

their chincilla coats and alligator shoes?

All you have to do is shake a few hands...

show your pearly whites, and get your picture taken.

Vanishing Eagles You usually like that part. HEY! Don't forget your book!

What's that for?

Makes it look as if you're interested in the committee's work.

I realize that the bald eagle is your national symbol...

but I must confess, I HATE birds. Especially bald ones.

Remember. Interested, sincere, Concerned.

I want to give you all a preview of our coming attractions.

For our raffle, Mr. William Collins has contributed a week for two in Hawaii...

all expenses paid...

at the King Kame-ah...

Sorry I'm late.

Are you on the committee?

Honorary chairman.

Ah.

You don't find this interesting?

A bit techincal for my tastes.

Millicent is a bit bore, but she's TERRIBLY dedicated.

That why you're here? Dedication?

They appealed to my sense of civic duty.

Which one's Mrs. Grace Stanton? The birdlike lady with the twitch?

The blue haired lady with the twitch?

Tell me something: Why do all these women twitch?

Obviously you haven't seen their husbands.

You don't twitch.

I'm a widow, Mr. Steele.

You seem to have me at a disadvantage.

You know my name, but I don't know yours.

And now, Mrs. Willis Stanton.

Now you do.

Friends. I have some bad news and some good news..

The bad news is that Dr. Amos Maxwell...

was scheduled to give his report today on the Lake Solitude project...

and its ecological aspects pertaining to the bald eagle.

Well, as you can see, he was unable to attend.

But he WILL give his report day after tomorrow...

at the finance committee meeting.

My good news is that I have with us today our honorary chairman...

the reknowned, if somewhat elusive, Mr. Remington Steele.

Thank you, thank you.

Ever since I was priviledged to come to your wonderful country...

I've been fascinated by your bird.

Nary a day goes by that I don't ponder the archane reasons...

that could have driven your founding fathers to select something as...

As uh... Well, as you can see, words fail me when I contemplate the bald eagle.

Thank you, Mr. Steele. Thank you.

I can see that we're going to have many fascinating insights...

from our honorary chairman.

Now, we are going to have a 20 mins intermission for refreshments.

Now that that's overwith,

I'll make our excuses and we'll get the hell out of here

- I just arrived. - Wait for me in the hall.

People will try to keep you here. Don't let them.

Now hold on, pardner. Sit a spell. Let's jaw.

Men's room. Have to get to the men's room.

Congressman Bishop. YOU can call me Orrin.

I'll be delighted to call you a great many things, Just as soon as I get back.

- What are you doin' here, Steele? - I'm the honorary chairmain of this committee.

I know that, but... I mean, what are you REALLY doin' here?

- Trying to get to the men's room. - No.

I have a vested interest in this committee.

if there's something here that requires your...

...professional expertise, I got a right to know what it is.

I'm sorry to disappoint you, Congressman...

but the only reason I'm here is to give your bird a fighting chance.

If you'll excuse me.

- What did he want? - He wanted to know what I was doing here.

- Did you tell him? - Apparently I don't know.

Time enough for that. We've got to get out of here.

I have to apologize for this whole cloak and dagger stuff,

but if the committee knew that Amos Maxwell was missing,...

it would jeopardize the whole project.

- When did you last hear from him? - A week ago. He called from Lake Solitude.

He was making his final inspection of the eagle sanctuary.

- Did he get in touch in with you after that? - I never spoke to Dr. Maxwell.

Then, did he send you something? Some material about our committee?

- Not that I'm aware of. - Perhaps it was mislaid.

My staff's very good about those things.

If Dr. Maxwell sent me something, I'm sure I would have seen it.

- What do you think happened to him? - I don't know.

It would take something horrendous to keep him from giving his report.

His whole life is dedicated to the protection of those poor creatures.

May I ask you an impertinent question, Mrs. Stanton?

What is MY life dedicated to?

While finding an appropriate home for the bald eagle ...

is certainly a noble endevour...

I find it difficult to believe it occupies your every waking hour.

I know what you're thinking, Mr. Steele.

spoiled, pampered, incredibly wealthy young woman...

dabbles in good deeds to fill the time between shopping sprees, world tours, and endless parties.

That's not what it's like at all.

The money Willis left me has been a burden more than a blessing.

I was Willis's third wife, Twenty five years his junior.

It was a brief marriage, he was not a well man.

And I awoke one morning to discover that I was worth... conservatively...

140 million dollars.

A lot of bubbles in a 140 million, huh?

Quite a few.

You'd be surprised how quickly a proposal of marriage...

usually follows that information, Mr. Steele

You've no idea how lonely that can make a woman.

How terribly lonely.

You poor thing.

Thank you.

There's a key in the flowerpot.

In certain circles, this could be construed as breaking and entering.

Amos and I are old friends. How do you think I know where the key is?

- No key. - There HAS to be.

It's always there. Well, I suppose we'll have to find another way in.

- That's definately breaking and entering. - He could be so ill...

- ...he can't even answer the door. - Do you have a credit card?

- My name is my credit card, Mr. Steele. - May I?

It's so reassuring to have you by my side.

See, I was right. Something HAS happened.

Mrs. Stanton? What does Amos look like?

Early fifties.

Yes?

Brown hair, with a touch of grey.

- Go on. - Brown eyes.

Yes?

Ah, And a scraggly mustache.

I think we just found Dr. Maxwell.

Where?

In the tub. Soaking.

"IT'S MURDER", SAYS STEELE

Where is he?

- Hasn't come in yet. - That IDIOT!

How DARE he say Amos Maxwell's death was murder when the police, the coroner...

and Mrs. Stanton herself all agree it was an accident?

- Where IS he? - If you mean Mr. Steele...

That IDIOT! How DARE he say that Amos Maxwell's death was murder?

Remington Steele has one of the finest criminal minds...

One of the finest minds in criminology, If he claims he was murdered, then he's...

He put his foot in it again, didn't he?

Murphy, This gentleman is here to see Mr. Steele...

Congressman Bishop. I'm a great admirer of your work, sir.

You know, Congressman Bishop is one of the great environmentalists in the country.

Normally, I'd be delighted to hear from a satisfied constituant...

but right now, I have more pressin' priorities.

Perhaps, We could discuss them in Mr. Steele's office.

- Fine. - Right this way, sir.

Find him. FAST.

Doesn't Steele know what an honory chairman does?

Shakes a few hands, smiles a lot, and gets his picture taken.

He doesn't stick his nose in committee business... OR people's bathtubs.

Now, if Amos Maxwell wanted to get pie eyed and deep six himself...

that's his prerogative.

- Did he have a history of drinking? - How the hell should I know?

He was hired to determine if my land was hospitable for the bald eagle.

- Now, you say you admire my work? - Very much.

Then you know I'm ripe for all sorts of pot shots from the polluters, right.

The strip miners, the wood choppers, They're just...

waiting for me to slip up.

What does this have to do with Amos Maxwell's death?

I have agreed to sell my land as a sanctuary for the bald eagle.

Considerably below market value, I might add.

Now, if Amos Maxwell was murdered the day before he was to report his findings...

well, that casts a cloud over the entire project.

So unless Steele has some tangible evidence...

some solid proof that he WAS murdered...

I want a public retraction, At LEAST as prominent as his accusation.

- Is Mr. Steele in? - What are you doin here?

- I imagine the same thing you are. - Well, you hired this Maxwell.

Is there any truth to these charges that Steele's slingin around?

None whatsoever.

Then you better see to it that they're put to rest...

Or you can find yourself another piece of property for your damn birds.

Don't threaten me, you side saddle Thoreau.

And stop effecting that silly accent.

Thinks it makes him sound like a man of the soil.

Actually he went to Harvard business school.

You can be as amusing as you wish, Mrs. Stanton.

But just you remember. You got a whole lot more to lose than I have.

- Is Mr. Steele in? - Not yet.

- I'm his associate, Laura Holt. - Ah.

This is Murphy Michaels, Bernice Fox. Perhaps I can help you.

- I hope so. - There's no answer at his apartment.

The limo's in the garage...

and I'm running out of numbers to call.

We're detectives, for heavens sake.

The least we can do is find the head of our own agency.

What a wonderfully neat desk. My late husband often said that...

the mark of a truly great executive is a totally clean desk.

They never leave until every last scrap had been cleared away.

Yes. Yes, Mr. Steele to a T.

First one to arrive. last one to leave.

In fact, sometimes he's so diligent, we don't even see him.

Has he shared his thoughts with you about Dr. Maxwell's death??

Not as... fully as... as I'd like.

First he said it was a tragic accident.

- What changed his mind - I've no idea.

After the press arrived, he began saying all sorts of strange things

Such as?

"Murder Most Foul. Margaret Rutherford. MGM. 1964".

Do you know what ANY of this means, Miss Holt?

Mr. Steele often speaks in... a code.

Who is this Margaret Rutherford? Is she a suspect?

We'd best wait for Mr. Steele to clarify that.

I just hate to have any of this negative publicity undermine the committee's work.

If Mr. Steele is correct, and Dr. Maxwell's death wasn't an accident...

could it be related to what he was doing for your committee?

I can't see how. It was very cut and dried.

- But then, you already know that. - I do?

He said he was going to send some material to Mr. Steele...

About our aims, our objectives... his findings.

- We never recieved anything. - Perhaps he sent it directly to Mr. Steele's home?

- I'll check. - Probably wasn't anything important.

Just... routine literature.

If anything turns up, I'll let you know.

Thank you. Mr. Steele is very fortunate to have someone like you.

Come on.!

Open up, open up!

You know, for once I'd like to kick the door in...

see the wood splinter into a thousand different pieces.

- We'd only wind up paying for the damage. - I know.

It really burns me when you have to stand up for that guy, you know.

What else do you expect me to DO?

Admit to Bishop and Mrs. Stanton, that, yes, he's a fraud and...

that no, Margaret Rutherford isn't a suspect...

she's an old English character actress?

This is as hard for me to say as it is for you to hear...

But.. do you think our Mr. Steele has actually stumbled onto something here?

Either that... or his cleaning lady's mad at him.

I think it's time we stopped apologizing for him and started taking him seriously.

You're right. I'll get a copy of Maxwell's autopsy report right away.

And dig up everything you can on Grace Stanton.

Murphy, you don't think he's in any kind of... danger, do you?

No. There's one thing I learned about him. He can take care of himself.

I hope Vernon wasn't too exuberant in requesting your presence.

He managed to drive the point home.

Chateau Lafitte Rothschild, 1945.

Please, Mr. Steele.

Shall I pretend I don't know who you are, or doesn't it really matter?

Instant recognition.

That's the price one pays for having his picture in so many places.

Most men would be delighted to make the cover of TIME, Mr. Swan

Not as the world's number one swindler, Mr. Steele.

Although I do think the authorities were rather harsh on me.

It wasn't completely my fault that my conglomerate collapsed.

- I simply borrowed more than I could repay. - And kept it for yourself.

Three years in prison more than compensated for that slight lapse.

I sing a mournful tune, Mr. Steele.

- Back taxes, as I remember. - Quite a bundle.

I'm currently negotiating payment at fifty cents on the dollar.

But unless you can help me, I won't be able to raise the needed funds.

You didn't bring me here to ask for a contribution?

No. I'm in the market for something.

A certain item I'm convinced you possess.

Really?

I know you're involved with Grace Stanton.

Tell me, have you succumbed to her...

considerable charms? Or are you still your own man?

Always my own man, Mr. Swan. Always.

What would you say this is? A worthless blob? A lump of clay?

I would say it was an uncut, unpolished, diamond.

By gad, sir!...

That is REMARKABLE.

There aren't two men in fifty THOUSAND who would know that. I have been robbed

in half the cities of the world, and no one looked at this twice.

Does this have anything to do with Grace Stanton?

It does, sir.

This represents what she was when I first met her:

A dull, lumpish teenager with a bad complexion and dirty hair.

Well, sir, I discerned the diamond in that lump. .

I cut it, polished it...

made it possible for her to one day become Mrs. Willis Stanton.

But some where in her journey toward that exalted position...

she acquired other... less lustrous traits.

She became an accomplished liar.

A scheming, treacherous woman, not to be trusted.

About the item.

I'm prepared to pay $10000 for its return.

no questions asked...

Or answered.

Uh, cautiously, Mr. Steele..

Vernon enjoys a moving target. Brings out the sportman in him.

Would this item have anything to do with Dr. Amos Maxwell's death?

Since I don't know the gentleman, I'll dispense with the customary insincereity over his passing.

Someone was very interested in the contents of his house.

Turned it upside down, searching for something.

- Are you saying you don't have it? - Not at all, no.

I was just wondering who else was interested in it.

Cleverness will get you nothing.

Honest greed will bring you 20000.

Make it 25.

I like doing business with a man who likes doing business.

Tomorrow, Mr. Steele. I shall need it by tomorrow.

Vernon will be in touch.

My apologies. One final indignity.

Where have you BEEN?

- Laura, I've had the most incredible night. - So have I,

calling the hospital every fifteen minutes, checking morgues.

- Laura, I'm touched by your concern. - Why shouldn't I be concerned?

You're a very valuable investment. Don't think I've spent all this time...

transforming you into Remington Steele only to lose you.

What happened to your head?

I got sapped by some weasel named Vernon.

- Sapped? - Uh, forties jargon for "slugged"...

Bashed about.

- Where WERE you? - In a scene right out of the Maltese Falcon.

There I was, confronting the very incarnation of Caspar Guttman.

I, of course, was Sam Spade, the slighty shady shamus.

And, we were actually dinkering for the dinkus,

- only HE called it an "ITEM". - WHO called WHAT an item?

Harry Swan, a fugitive from the IRS.

Attempting to buy his way into the country by paying off his back taxes.

Apparently Mr. Swan isn't the only one looking for something.

Grace Stanton came to the office, ostensibly to...

see you, but she was really after some material Amos Maxwell sent you.

SHE'S our Bridgette O'Shaunessy.

And whatever Maxwell sent is the ITEM.

NOW all we have to do is figure out WHAT the item is, and who sent it.

This is shaping into a first rate case, Laura.

And I must say, it's much more fun being Sam Spade than Remington Steele.

- Oh? - Steele is so boringly honest.

such a paragon of integrity.

Spade on the other hand, is far more interesting.

A hard, shifty man, able to take care of himself in any situation.

Well, You certainly emulated Mr. Spade in that respect.

Ouch!

Steele here.

Finally turned up, ey?

- Thank you, Miss Wolfe. - For what?

I can tell by your tone that you're genuinely worried.

Yeah, sure. Is Laura there?

Miss Wolfe. She's beside herself with joy at my return.

Yes, Bernice?

I think you'd better get over here. I'm sitting on something VERY interesting.

On my way.

- Get some rest. - Aren't we gonna talk about the case?

Formulate a plan? Ferret out the item?

Later. Put something on that so you don't get infected.

Laura, You look lovely in the morning.

The rest of the place is worse.

It'll take days before we know what they were after.

I think I KNOW what they were after.

- What? - The ITEM.

What item?

The one they killed Amos Maxwell for.

You mean Remington Steele actually knew what he was talking about?

Scary, isn't it?

I'm not meanin' to stampede you fine folks, but I'm due back in Washington next week.

I move we purchase the Lake Solitude property for the price we agreed upon.

Grace, dear, I don't see how we can.

We have not seen Dr. Maxwell's report.

I spoke to him the day before his accident.

He told me he found Congressman Bishop's land IDEAL for an eagle sancutary.

But if we are considering an expenditure of WELL over a million dollars...

we should proceed with the UTMOST caution.

This is unfair to Congressman Bishop. He deserves an answer. And now.

Move the question?

Well, all right.

All those in favor of purchasing Congressman Bishop's land...

at Lake Solitude, please signify by raising your hand...

As your honorary chairman, could I have your indulgence for a few words?

We'd be DELIGHTED, Mr. Steele.

This meeting reminds me of the legend of the apes of Gibraltar.

What? Madame Chairlady, is he speaking to the question?

The legend states that if the apes were ever to leave Gibraltar...

it would mark the end of British sovereignty.

I suggest to you, that the disappearance of the American Eagle...

could well mark the end of this great nation.

Without that majestic creature...

what would happen to our sense of direction?

Our Feeling of pride?

our committment to duty?

And what will we tell our children...

when they ask, with bright, innocent eyes:

"What's a bald eagle, mummy?".

In order to...

give us time to find the answer, I move we adjourn.

A motion to adjourn takes precedence, and cannot be debated.

The meeting is adjourned.

- We have a motion on the floor! - I'm helpless, Grace, dear.

- Robert's Rules of Order and all that. - Millicent, you don't understand.

I know a filibuster when I hear one.

What in the HELL are you up to?

I wonder whatever happened to Dr. Maxwell's report?

Maybe it got lost in the mail. MAYBE... maybe he never finished it.

What would you do if I told you I had the item?

Maxwell's report? I'd say it was your duty to turn it over...

to Mrs. Stanton, so the committee could make its decision.

I've already had an offer of $25000 for it.

Wouldn't care to get in on the bidding, would you, Congressman?

I'd always heard that Remington Steele was a man of integrity...

But this sounds like a cheap shake down to me.

There's nothing cheap about $25000.

Enjoy your last days as a private investigator, Mr. Steele...

Because I'm gonna have your license lifted.

You got until Tuesday.

Unless this situation is resolved before then, it's off.

Everything's OFF!

Congratulations, In a few minutes...

you've managed to destroy what it's taken months to achieve.

GET OUT!

Not so fast, sister. You've been pulling me along after you from the very beginning.

You arranged for me to be on this committee. you arranged for me to find Maxwell's body. Only I crossed you up.

- I didn't say it was an accident. - It WAS an accident.

Then why was my apartment turned inside out...

Why was I snatched at gunpoint? My skull creased by some cheap gunsel?

- May I ask you a question? - Shoot.

- WHY are you talking like that? - Because I'm angry, angel. I won't play the sap for you.

- This is hopeless. - I want to know why Dr. Maxwell's report was worth $25000?

- WHO offered you 25000? - Harry Swan.

Hmm. That's an attractive colour you're wearing, Mrs. Stanton.

- Ashen, I believe. - How do you know Harry Swan?

We're drinking buddies.

- What did he tell you? - First, he told me that you were an accomplished liar.

A treacherous, scheming woman, not to be trusted.

- Then he said he'd known you since you were a teenager.. - Mr. Steele, help me.

- I'm so frightened. So terribly frightened. - Of Swan?

You don't know him like I do. It's true. I...

lived with him from the time I was sixteen until I was nineteen.

It's not an interlude I'm proud of. But now that Willis is gone,

he wants to come back into my life. I don't want him.

- I'm repulsed by him. - What's that got to do with Maxwell's report?

He knows how important it is to me.

How desparately I need it. Another survey would take months.

We'd lose Bishop's land, have to start all over again..

Perhaps even return the funds we've already collected.

But if Swan has the report, he knows I'll have to come to him.

He'll have me exactly where he wants me: In his debt.

Oh, Mr. Steele.

For all his polish, he's a hideously brutal man.

If it's the money you want, I'll out bid Swan.

But I have so much more to offer.

That you do, Mrs. Stanton, that you do.

- I don't know how he did it. - Who?

- No s� c�mo lo hizo. - �Qui�n?

Bogart. He rolled his own cigarettes in "The Maltese Falcon".

Don't you think you're carrying this Sam Spade thing a bit far?

It worked splendidly with Grace Stanton.

A few moments with that tough, devious dick, and now she wants to purchase Maxwell's report.

- With what? - She's WORTH a 140 million dollars

conservatively speaking.

Murphy found out it's all tied up in trust funds.

She has to get permission before she can spend $500 on anything

That's why she was so accomodating.

- I guess I owe you an apology. - Really?

Laura, this is a seminal turn in our relationship.

- Usually apologies run the other way. - Well, Maxwell WAS murdered.

only not in his bathtub.

The autopsy revealed stream water in his lungs containing small traces of DDT.

He was doing an ecological survey up at that eagle sanctuary.

- Maybe he was killed up there. - Then we should be going to Lake Solitude.

- We are. - Oh.

Good thinking, Laura.

What should I do about the car that's following us?

- What car? - The blue Ford.

It's been with us since we left the Agency.

Shake it, Fred.

SUMMIT COUNTY - 7 Miles LAKE SOLITUDE - 19 Miles

It seems we've lost our tail. Excellent work, Fred.

Actually, he turned into a gas station about two miles back, sir.

Still, you handled this baby beautifully.

- You're not going to try this again, are you? - No.

Nah, smoking's bad for you anyway. But I was wondering:

what do you think I'd look like in a fedora?

- What is it, Fred? - Flat, sir.

Is anybody there?

Excuse me. Our car seems to have developed a few flats.

Could you send someone to fix it?

Not for... three, four hours.

- Is there anything we could borrow? - Nope.

- Rent? - Got an old jeep.

Wouldn't know what to charge for it.

- Well, what about...? - 30 bucks a day, 15 cents a mile,

you pay the gas and any damage to the vehicle.

There's a great deal of glass on the road back there.

- Perhaps someone should clean it up. - I'll lend you a broom.

Isn't this invigorating? Crisp mountain air...

clear blue skies, and God's green earth below us.

- You're going a little fast. - Obviously I've never told you about my Grand Prix days.

- Pump the brakes! - I'm pumping! I'm pumping!

Pump it!

- DOWNSHIFT! DOWNSHIFT! - Stop shrieking, Laura!

You're affecting my concentration.

The edge! You're getting too close to the edge!

- Jump! - Are you crazy? We could be killed!

Are you all right?

Say something.

If you can't talk, groan.

'The Big Sleep'. Humphrey Bogart. Lauren Bacall. Warner Bros. 1946.

- Good God, you're babbling. - Tacks are dilerately strewn...

across the road giving Bogart two flat tires...

and sending them to Art Huck's Garage, where Canino is lying in wait.

Must be a concussion.

Laura, that glass was placed on the road so we'd be forced to ...

rent that death trap from Friendly Fritz.

Come on.

Someone doesn't want us to reach Lake Solitude.

Small puncture in the brake fluid container.

That's why whoever followed us in that Ford turned into that gas station:

To call ahead and set the whole thing up.

Come on. We'll hitch hike our way to Lake Solitude.

We're in luck.

How do you figure that?

It's all downhill.

SUMMIT COUNTY OFFICE

Closing in eight minutes, folks.

We'd like the plat book for the southeastern valley.

Excuse me.

Index in the front,

listed by section.

No, no, no, no.

Chinatown.

I, too, attend an occassional movie..

- Do you have another book like this one? - Of course not.

A page has been torn out.

Never happened before that damn movie.

Do you remember a gentleman in his early fifties...

brown hair, slightly grey, brown eyes, scraggly mustache?

How about a woman, early thirties, tall, blonde, hazel eyes...

some might call moderately attractive?

Jackpot. She asked for the same platbook you folks did

Leave everything to me, precious.

By the time I'm through, I'll have that little twit singing like a canary.

Miss Holt.

- Mr. Steele. So pleased to see you. - When was the last time you were in Lake Solitude

Well, I don't know. Years ago.

You seem to have a lot of trouble with dates.

You told me you hadn't heard from Dr. Maxwell for over a week...

but you told the finance committee you spoke to him the day before he died.

Now you tell us you haven't been to Lake Solitude in years...

Only the clerk in the hall of records says you were there only three days ago.

Talk, sister. I want answers, and I want them fast.

I don't have to tell you ANYTHING. So in the parlance of the street- SHOVE IT.

I apologize for Mr. Steele. Sometimes he forgets who he is.

- I don't know what he's accusing me of or why. - We're really here to help you, Mrs. Stanton.

I'm sure you had a compelling reason for tearing that page out of the plat book.

You're going to have answer sooner or later.

I doubt the police will be as understanding as we are.

It was Swan. Harry Swan. He told you I lived with him,

Well, he left out the best part:

- I was married to the bum. - You were Mrs. Harry Swan?

I still am. When I left him, he promised to get a divorce.

Only now he says he never got around to it. Slipped his mind

Then you were never legally married to Willis Stanton.

No marriage, no hundred and forty million.

Swan was willing to keep silent, in exchange for the money he...

needed to pay off his back taxes. He was going to get it from the

sale of the land as an eagle sanctuary.

- But I thought Bishop owned that land. - I sold it to him.

And your name was in the plat book as the previous owner.

How would it look if I sold the committee my own land?

- Why would Bishop front for Swan? - I don't know.

But you DO know why Dr. Maxwell was murdered.

He discovered that I sold the land to Bishop...

threatened to dig deeper... expose the entire charity as a fraud.

- And you killed him. - Of COURSE not! It was Swan.

He'd never get back into the country without the money.

Then why is everyone so anxious to get their hands on the Maxwell report?

The committee won't purchase the land without it.

Then I take it you're still interested in it.

- Do you have it? - No.

But I know where I can put my hands on it.

What do you mean you can put your hands on Maxwell's report?

- He sent it to you. - When?

Don't you remember? Grace told us both he sent you some material.

- Obviously, it was his report. - But we never recieved it.

Didn't we?

- Maxwell's report? - Actually my cleaning bill.

You'd better hope Vernon has the day off when they find out.

- If we do it right, they won't. - You're good. You're very good.

Thank you. But when this is over, I would like Sam Spade retired.

- PERMANENTLY. - But he's so colourful.

The dialogue just seems to flow right out of me

Well, if you can't eliminate the flow, the least you can do is cut it down to a trickle.

The front door key.

The murderer must have put it down there and forgot to return it to the flowerpot.

- Swell piece of work, Sam. - Thanks, Angel.

You just managed to smudge any worthwhile prints.

Excuse me.

I believe the last bid was for 25000...

From Mr. Swan.

Do I hear thirty?

I have no intention of bidding for somethin that rightfully belongs to the committee.

That envelope contains more than Dr. Maxwell's report.

- It holds the motive for his murder. - Which was?

He found something very damaging at Lake Solitude.

And if the committee didn't purchase that particular peice of property...

then there was no way Grace could help YOU buy your way back into the country.

And if Swan wasn't paid off, he would certainly tell about your marriage.

You're the only odd player in this mix, Congressman.

Why would a man of such lofty ideals want to become a front for someone...

as distasteful as Harry Swan?

Uh, no offense, Mr. Swan. I personally find you quite charming.

I was only looking for a refuge for those birds.

Now, how we got it was of little importance.

Well, someone's gonna have to take the fall for Maxwell's death.

- Is that necessary, sir? - Fraid so.

The cops get awfully finicky when it comes to murder.

They won't stop digging until they come up with someone.

- Let's give them the gunsel. - Vernon?

Why? He's made for it. Attractive car you have there, Vernon.

Noticed it when you drove up. Blue always looks good on a Ford.

He tailed us up to Lake Solitude, probably on your orders.

Tried to get Precious and me knocked off with the help of Friendly Fritz from the garage.

That's attempted murder right there. It's only a short hop to the real thing.

- Out of the question, sir. - Why? He's perfect.

Perhaps, But Vernon has the only gun in the room.

No offense, Vernon. It's all meant as a compliment.

Well, if it wasn't my good friend Vernon, there, who shall it be?

- May I throw something into the pot, sir? - Be my guest.

The uh- Congressman was secretly representing me to the IRS...

in exchange for a generous campaign contribution.

He's planning to run for the Senate.

There's nothin illegal about that. It's done every day.

And the people that I'm tryin to stop

happen to be the BIGGEST contributors to political campaigns.

I gotta take my money where I can get it.

Whoever killed Dr. Maxwell did it at Lake Solitude.

The autopsy disclosed stream water in his lungs...

accompanied with minute traces of DDT.

- DDT. That's it. - What?

- The reason Maxwell was killed. - DDT?

That book you gave me, Laura. It said that one of the major...

reasons for the bald eagle dying out was the indiscrimate use of DDT.

It weakens the egg shell so they can't hatch properly.

And you thought I never did my homework.

Tell me, Congressman. How many votes do you think that would get you?

A leading conservationist selling...

chemically infested land for a wildlife preserve?.

You got a lotta bark, Lady, but no bite.

The killer drove the body back here...

entered the house using the key Maxwell always kept in the flowerpot outside.

And since there are no scuff marks on the carpet, that effectively clears Grace.

Obviously she couldn't carry Dr. Maxwell.

Especially a water logged Dr. Maxwell.

It also exonerates Mr. Swan and my old pal Vernon.

They weren't acquainted with Dr. Maxwell and his idiosyncracies well enough to know...

that he kept his front door key in a flowerpot.

Tell me, Congressman, Would you care to bet your life that this key...

holds your fingerprints?

A head start, sir, say,...

enough time to reach the Mexican border?

In that case, the shortest farewells are the best. Adieu, Mrs. Stanton.

Come, Vernon. Let's burn rubber

If they catch him, he'll tell them we're still married.

It's not so bad being poor, Grace.

They say it builds character.

Doesn't it?

Here it is! Amos Maxwell's report.

Return to Post Office; ZIP code incorrect.

Don't they know where I live by now?

Here's one from Grace Stanton marked 'personal'.

Mmm, nice...

A check for twenty five thousand dollars.

Postdated five years hence.

A way to insure our silence?

What would Sam Spade do in a situation like this?

Back to that again, are we?

You know, you're disturbingly convincing as a slightly shady shamus.

A role I was born to play. but I suppose it's time to put...

the trappings of artifice aside And return to the real me. Remington Steele.

Adieu, Sam.

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