All language subtitles for Remington Steele s03e20 Steele in the Chips.eng

Rich.

Moist.

Satisfying.

Your bids?

You'll have my answer
in the morning.

Walter, what are you doin'?

What kind of partner are you?
Trying to sell my life's work?

Ten million dollars
is a lot of dough, Walter.

No, you don't understand.
They'll suppress it. They'll destroy it.

- What do you care what they do with it?
- I've given 15 years to this.

I don't care about money.
I care about mankind!

Sorry, old man. The formula may be
in your head, but I got all the prototypes.

- You wouldn't do that to me.
- Just relax. You're gonna be a millionaire.

By tomorrow,
you'll be off in Bali...

sipping banana daiquiris
with some native guava blossom.

Think of it, Walter.
The stars. The palm trees.

The bikinis.

Walter-

Oh!

Mmm! Mmm.

Good Lord, Mildred.
It's 9:00 in the morning.

Oh, Miss Holt,
you've got to try these.

Mildred, where's your self-respect,
your willpower?

This is shameful.
This is degenerate. This is-

absolute heaven.

This is terrible. You've gotta
get rid of these things.

It's time to turn over
a new leaf.

What you need is a little
aerobics to get you going.

It's no use.
I've tried everything.

I mean, water diets,
protein diet.

I even tried acupuncture.

Nothing works.
Let's face it, Miss Holt...

maybe I'm just meant
to be voluptuous.

Nonsense, Mildred.

Oh, here it is, Mildred.

Contacts can be
such a problem.

I'm Laura Holt,
Remington Steele's associate.

Bill Miles. I need to
see Mr. Steele.

Okay. Ball.
And follow through.

Wonderful! You have
definite potential, Mr. Steele.

Firm wrist,
classic form...

- excellent follow-through.
- Oh, well, the Remington Steele Agency...

is noted for its, uh,
follow-through, Miss Dalrymple.

You know, security is extremely important
on the pro circuit.

If I retain your agency, I would expect you
to be close by at all times.

Oh, day and night,
I assure you, yes.

At the Remington Steele Agency,
vigilance is our watchword, yes.

I warn you, Mr. Steele,
I'm terribly conscious of my image.

Oh, put your fears
to rest, Miss Dalrymple.

The Remington Steele Agency
is the very soul of propriety.

I mean,
dignity is our watchword.

Vigilance and dignity. And, uh, follow-through.

Yoo-hoo.!

Mr. Steele!

- Yes, who are you?
- Mr. Steele.

Shirley Tannenbaum.
Your office said I could find you here.

Well, that could
be bad for one of us.

Listen, I am at the end of my rope.
You have to help me out.

- I need you to find Walter.
- Walter?

Walter Munzinger,
my brother-in-law.

I haven't heard
from him in three days.

Tomorrow's my daughter's wedding.
Walter and Tiffany are like that.

What am I gonna tell her?
What am I gonna tell the doctor?

- The doctor?
- She's marrying a doctor.

- Ah.
- Here, that's him.

That's Walter.

How long has your brother,
Walter, been missing?

Three days.
My sister, Mary, is so upset.

She's in the hospital,
and the doctors are really worried.

Well, listen,
Mrs. Tannenbaum...

the agency really isn't equipped to handle
a full-scale manhunt, you know.

Oh. Silly of me. So you need money
to cover expenses, right?

Will that do?

Ten thousand dollars?

Ten thousand dollars?

Well, he's the only brother
I have, Miss Holt.

How can you handle
both cases at once?

Oh, don't worry, Miss Dalrymple.
I'll simply assign...

my trusted associate
to the Munzinger matter.

Then I'll be able to devote
all my energies to, uh, servicing you.

Ah, good morning, Mildred.

Morning, Mr. Steele.

Ah, Miss Holt. I need you
to handle a pressing matter.

I'm afraid I have a pressing matter
of my own, Mr. Steele.

I believe my matter
is more pressing.

I've been retained
to locate a missing relative.

- So have I.
- You have?

Have a seat,
will you, Miss Dalrymple.

Ah, Mildred, some coffee
for Miss Dalrymple.

My relative comes with
a $10,000 retainer.

So does mine.

- It does?
- And I have a picture.

You show me yours,
and I'll show you mine.

Walter Munzinger?

The man must come from
a very doting family.

If any more of Walter's relations show up,
we'll have to open a branch office.

- Remington Steele?
- Ah, yes.

- Maynard Stockman, Vector Foundation.
- Oh, good.

I need you to
find someone for me.

A man named
Walter Munzinger.

Don't you find it a bit odd
that three different people...

hired the Remington Steele Agency
to find Walter Munzinger?

Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.
Frankly, yes.

And the sooner we wrap up
this missing Munzinger...

the sooner I can go over
Miss Dalrymple's itinerary.

Should be an exciting trip.

Need I remind you,
Miss Dalrymple's a client.

Oh, well, she's more than that, Laura.
She's the ideal client.

- How so?
- She wants to mix business with pleasure.

Uh-oh.

Never a good sign
when the door is ajar.

- Oh, good heavens!
- Mm.

Looks like someone wants Walter for more
than Tiffany Tannenbaum's wedding, eh?

- Look at this.
- What?

Third place at the Food Expo awarded to
Walter Munzinger and MichaelJ. Spencer.

Hmm. Apparently Walter
was into food research.

Apparently MichaelJ. Spencer
is his partner.

Yeah.

Well, well, well, well, well.
Have a look at this.

Our phone number
and address.

- Walter must have intended to contact us.
- Mm.

Gesundheit.

Clay!

Laura Holt.
You look terrific.

From what I can see,
you don't look so bad yourself.

God, I haven't
seen you...

since the good old days
back at Havenhurst.

- Have you lost weight?
- Excuse me.

- Who is that man?
- Clay Platt.

- We used to work together.
- I see.

You made an exception
in his case, did you...

about, uh, mixing
business with pleasure?

We put in a few late nights.
A lot of paperwork.

- He seems to be in the mood
to burn some more midnight oil.

- Be quiet.
- We're both mature, consenting adults...

and we can't be expected to suppress
our natural instincts and urges.

Laura, that mature,
consenting adult...

is standing in a closet in an apartment
that looks like it's been leveled by a tornado.

Don't you think we should ask him
some pertinent questions, hmm?

- You're absolutely right.
- Good.

- Clay, what are you doing in that closet?
- I'm on a case.

- So are we.
- Well, then neither of us can betray a client's confidence.

Listen, mate, the man
who lives here is missing.

Well, do you know
where he is?

- No.
- Neither do I.

We'll do
lunch sometime.

Nice backhand.

Toes and knees
and toes and knees.

Toes and knees.
Cookies, please.

I'm not hungry.
I'm not hungry.

I hate cookies.

I love celery.
I'm not hungry.

Miss Krebs,
I've rearranged my schedule.

Is there any word
from Mr. Steele?

Miss Dalrymple,
I am so glad to see you!

- I have something for you.
- Oh, no, I shouldn't.

- Oh, no, take it. Please, take it.
- Really?

Well, if you insist.

- Good Lord!
- Must be something in the air.

Miss Dalrymple!

Miss Dalrymple!

Good Lord!

Miss Dalrymple,
you're safe!

Miss Dalrymple,
you're okay- Oh!

- Oh, yes, fine.
- Boss, I only took an hour for lunch!

First Walter's apartment.
Now we're on the hit list.

Remington Steele?

- Yes.
- I'm-

- Walter Munzinger.
- Oh!

Oh, Walter. Oh, yes. Come in,
please. Come in. Yes.

Don't give up!

The shape of the world
is in your hands!

Good Lord!

- Oh, is he still out there?
- Oh-

Nah, the meat wagon
took him away.

Mildred, please, a little
bit of decorum, hmm?

- Feeling better, are you, Miss Dalrymple?
- Mm-

- I'm sorry about your rug.
- Oh, nonsense!

We were thinking of getting
a new one anyway. Ah, Mildred...

- some hot tea for Miss Dalrymple.
- How- Uh-

How did he... die?

Uh, heart attack. Heart attack, no doubt.
Yes, of course.

Always so sudden. I mean,
one minute you're here, the next-

Bullet wound.

From the coroner's
preliminary report...

Walter was shot
at close range.

I think it's time
we chat with our clients.

No, wait.
Wh-What about me?

I mean, there's all those
reporters down there.

- I don't want to be involved in this kind of publicity.
- Once I'm through with this...

we'll discuss your tour
in a quiet, dignified manner.

I'll be back in about an hour.

Maybe 45 minutes.

I'll never forget the 12 years
I spent with the space program.

Walking on the moon was about
the most exciting moment of my life.

Being an astronaut meant
you had to have something special.

Well, uh, Booster Bars
have something special too.

You see, Boost-

Oh, hi.
How ya doin'?

I thought
you looked familiar.

Yeah, well,
now you know.

The man who flew to the moon,
Ph. D. in astrophysics...

hawks Booster Bars.

Twenty thousand
units a week.

- Sounds impressive.
- Yeah, well, the company wants 50.

They're thinking of
hiring MichaelJackson.

It's a different world
down here, isn't it?

Yes. A man has dreams.

You walk on the moon,
you're a hero.

Ticker tape parades,
talk shows.

Six months later,
nobody knows you.

Well, I'm too old
to go to the moon again.

How's Mary?

- Who?
- Your sister.

The one in the hospital.

Oh, right.
Yeah, she's hanging on.

Have you found Walter yet?

- He made a brief appearance in our office.
- When you see him...

tell him I've put together
a syndicate of backers.

- I think I can come up with three million.
- Three million?

That's as high
as I'm authorized to go.

- Now, I want Walter's answer.
- I'll do my best to wring it out of him.

Do that.

- Uh, could you tell me-
- Crystal, you forgot to turn off the oven.!

- Mr. Steele.
- Oh, Mrs. Tannenbaum.

You never told me you were
Lila Delight, queen of sensual confection.

- You're very thorough.
- Ah.

- I take it you found Walter.
- Actually, he found us.

- Oh?
- Mm-hmm.

- Is he ready to do business?
- Business?

Oh, that might be a bit difficult,
Mrs. Tannenbaum.

Don't toy with me, Steele.
I'm a desperate woman!

Now, you tell Munzinger that
I'm offering a million five.

- I beg your pardon?
- Look, Steele...

my business is being eaten alive
by cottage cheese and club soda.

People have forgotten
how to live.

They're devastated by, uh-

by stretch marks
and cellulite.

Thin hips and thighs.
That's all they care about.

Munzinger should jump
at a million five.

I'm not sure he'll jump
at anything, Mrs. Tannenbaum.

You drive
a hard bargain, Steele.

All right, all right.

An even two mil, but that's
as high as I'll go.

Well-
I'll, uh-

I'll confer with Mr. Munzinger, but I'm not sure
what he's gonna have to say on the subject.

Okay, Mrs. Tannenbaum?

If we just knew what we were
getting back to them about.

Whatever it is, Lila Delight
and Astronaut Willy...

would cash in their
life savings for it.

Well, it's gonna be a bit difficult getting
information out of Walter at this point.

Perhaps his partner, Mr. Spencer,
might be of some help.

What about a little
sting on the wing, Laura?

I'll do the driving,
thank you.

- Oh, my Lord!
- Oh, boy.

Someone's determined
to make us work for our money.

A man's home is ransacked,
his laboratory is ransacked...

and our office
is ransacked.

It would help if we knew
what everyone is looking for.

Uh, yes, indeed.

- Spring is in the air!
- I beg your pardon?

Mm. Mm.

Oh, yes! Yes,
you're absolutely right.

Maybe we should take
the rest of the day off.

Oh, yes, perhaps a stroll
in the park. Maybe a...

round of golf, uh-

- Maybe take in a movie!
- Oh, yes, a movie would be a good idea.

What would you
like to see?

I'll leave it
to you, Mr. Steele.

I wanna see Bambi.

- Well, you certainly gave them an earful.
- Yes.

Poor Walter. Everything he said
was broadcast in stereo.

Someone, or a lot of someones,
knew he meant to contact us.

- But why us?
- I don't know. Perhaps we should check the closets.

- Maybe one of your old flames is in there.
- Don't be ridiculous.

- Ooh!
- Oh, my God.

Who is he?

I don't know.
He doesn't look familiar.

Let me see.

Ah. Aha. Say hello to
Walter's partner...

MichaelJ. Spencer.

What's happened?
Who are you?

Uh, Food and Drug
Administration.

- Do you work here, Miss, uh-
- Gloria Blyer.

No. I'm looking for Walter.
I'm his fianc�e.

Ah. Uh-

Gloria, uh, I think we have
some bad news for you.

- Oh!
- No, no. Not again.

Our ransacker is thorough
to the point of obsession.

Twenty minutes, boss!

I swear. I just went
to the post office!

Ah! Miss Dalrymple!
Miss Dalrymple?

I hear you.

Ow. Ooh. Ow.

Oh, Miss Dalrymple, there you are.
What happened?

Well, I heard a noise,
and I thought it was you!

And I went out to look, and somebody
punched me in my mouth.

- Oh!
- She must've scared them off.

Oh, I don't
understand any of this.

Oh, it's all right. You're safe now.
Mildred, some ice for Miss Dalrymple.

But if they already ransacked
your office, why do it again?

Unless it was someone
different this time.

- Well, what is it they want?
- Whatever it is, we're supposed to have it.

Yes, but there was nothing
on Walter when he, uh, you know-

That's true.
Unless... Walter sent us something when-

- Here's the ice.
- Oh, thank you, Mildred.

- Thank you, indeed.
- This just came.

- Oh, my God!
- There you go, Miss Dalrymple.

There. It's only
a temporary swelling.

- A little lip gloss, and no one'll be any wiser.
- Shhh!

- Laura, I'm trying to comfort our client.
- Do you hear a ticking?

- Ticking?
- It sounds like a bomb!

- Bomb?
- Bomb!

- Oh! Throw it out the window!
- Oh!

The windows don't open!

Well, don't just stand there. We'll all
be blown to smithereens! Do something!

- Move, move.
- Look out!

Come on.
Come on!

- Get out!
- Out of the way.

- This isn't my floor!
- Get out!

- What are you doing?
- It is now!

- Go on! Get out! Move!
- You crazy or something?

We may have just
lost our lease, Laura.

Oh. Oh, yes. Oh-

It looks better already.

I must confess, Mr. Steele, I'm having second
thoughts about hiring your agency.

Oh, no, no, nonsense,
Miss Dalrymple. Nonsense.

Do you realize that since I've met you,
I've had a man die at my feet...

I've been punched in the mouth,
and I've almost been blown sky-high...

- all in one day!
- I know how annoying these minor inconveniences can be...

but from now on, it's gonna
be smooth sailing, believe me.

Well, Mildred?

Ah, Miss Holt,
you look, uh, smashing.

- I got you that table at La Boheme.
- Great.

- La Boheme?
- I'm having lunch with Clay Platt.

- Are you sure you can handle it alone?
- I'll do just fine.

Remember I only give
my employees an hour's lunch.

Remington Steele.

Uh, hold on
just a second.

It's a Gloria Blyer.
Said it's a matter of life and death.

- Don't things ever slow down around here?
- Ah-Whew.

Yes, Steele here. Yes.

Uh, well,
where are you?

Well- Uh, yeah, okay.
Okay. Yeah.

I'll be right over.
Okay.

Sometimes I wish I weren't
so damn dedicated.

- It's just a minor matter that needs my attention.
- I'm not sure I can survive it.

Ah, well, just remember
the watchwords-vigilance and dignity.

Yeah, and follow-through.

The Remington Steele Agency
specializes in, uh...

follow-through.

You're very persuasive.

I'll be back in
about 45 minutes.

Maybe half an hour.

Clay.

I had no idea
when I asked you to lunch...

that I'd get
this lucky this fast.

Sometimes you just have
to seize the moment.

All right.

I can't believe
a package like you...

hasn't been wrapped up
and tied into a great big bow.

Unless, of course, you and your boss
have something going on the side.

Strictly business.

That's just what I've been
waiting to hear.

- A question, Clay.
- You have my undivided attention.

What were you doing at
Walter Munzinger's apartment?

Oh, now, I could
ask you the same thing.

In that case,
I have a proposition for you.

This may be
the best lunch I've ever had.

You have information I want.
I have information you want.

I propose a trade-
truth for truth.

- Any subject?
- I'm an open book.

- Ask away.
- Who hired you to go through Munzinger's apartment?

- Varicorp.
- The conglomerate?

My turn.
Who are you working for?

Actually, we have three clients.

Steele must be
as good as I hear.

Gloria?

Gloria, open the door.
It's Steele.

Gloria?

- Oh! Oh, Mr. Steele. Thank you for coming.
- Okay, okay, okay.

Calm down. Listen, you said on the phone
someone threatened to kill you.

- Yeah, some pudgy guy.
- What about a cocky fellow about 30?

Yeah, he was with pudgy.

They told me that if I didn't
hand over the package...

they were gonna give me
a free trip to visit Walter.

Okay, here you go.
What package?

Yes, this-this postal receipt
came in the morning mail.

"To the Remington Steele Agency.

- From Walter Munzinger"?
- Did anything come to your office today?

Nothing you'd be
interested in getting.

- Did you tell anyone you had this?
- No.

That was precisely
the right thing to do.

I told them you had it.

That wasn't the best alternative.
Come on. Come on.

My turn. How much
did you earn at Havenhurst?

Twenty-four.

What's so funny?

I made 36.

And a company car.

My turn. What is it
everyone is looking for?

Now, come on, Clay.
We had a deal. What is it?

Promise you won't
tell anybody I told you?

I promise.

- Cookies.
- What?

My turn.

Why don't we go
to my place?

I'm beginning to feel
a little sleepy.

Did you really say "cookies"?

- I could break out the baby oil.
- Worth two lives?

And millions of dollars?

Well, when Walter
bit the big one...

so did the formula.

Only the prototypes
are left.

You know, I-I'm really
starting to feel a little sleepy.

Prototypes?
Of cookies?

Rich, moist, delicious.

And no calories.

Did you say "no calories"?

Not one teensy-weensy
little calorie.

La Boheme? I thought we were
going to your office...

to look for
Walter's package.

Just as soon as we rescue Miss Holt
from the clutches of a closet king.

Let go of me, you big ox.!
What do you think you're-

Oh. Seems she's fallen
into other clutches.

Good afternoon.
Varicorp.

Hold the line, please.

Good afternoon,
Miss Holt.

Sorry we had to meet
under such unpleasant circumstances.

Does the Vector Foundation
usually snatch people...

off the street,
Mr. Stockman...

or is that
Varicorp's style?

Miss Holt, you are
a very smart cookie.

Clay Platt,
however, is not.

So I had to
step in once again.

Now, let me
get this straight.

Walter Munzinger creates the most delicious
chocolate chip cookie in existence...

on top of which,
it has absolutely no calories...

and you're willing to pay
$10 million to destroy it?

I'd say that was a fair assessment
of our position, yes.

So you bombed our office.

A distasteful procedure...

but given the severity
of the situation...

it was one we had
to undertake.

What severity?

You're sitting on something
the whole world is crying for!

Miss Holt, Varicorp produces
52 varieties of cookies.

We manufacture Fudgie Bears
in Wisconsin...

Gooey Chewies in Nebraska
and Yummy Tummy Treats in Kansas.

Our factories
support entire towns.

Do you have any idea what would
happen if Munzinger's cookie...

were allowed to be unleashed
on an unsuspecting world?

Nobody would buy ours!

Our factories would close.

Gas stations, grocery stores...

dry cleaners, libraries,
schools would close.

There'd be no tax revenue.
Cities would collapse.

There'd be unemployment lines.

Welfare rolls.
Soup kitchens.

Honest men and women,
thrown out of work...

through no fault of
their own...

without hope, without-
without purpose...

turning to-
to crime and to drugs.

Riots in the streets,
Miss Holt!

Well, I for one am not
about to let that happen.

Buenos d�as, ma'am.
Buenos d�as.

No one called for you.

No! No.

Stop it! You're making a mess!
Stop it right now!

Hey!

Stop doing this to my desk!
Give that back to me!

Oh!

Stop him! You can't go in there!
You can't go in there!

What do you want?

Come on, Laura.
Let's go. This way.

Hold it. Stop. What do
you think you're doing?

After them,
you oxen!

Cookies?

You put my neck on the line
to satisfy your sweet tooth?

- You didn't taste one.
- I don't care!

Big men with bombs
are trying to pulverize us!

No wonder Shirley and Bill
are ready to kill for them.

- Those cookies are worth $10 million!
- Ten million dollars?

Yes.

Go!

Now who?

Mildred? Mildred!

Oh! Next time, I'm eating in.

Mildred, remember that red tin
of chocolate chip cookies?

How could I forget?
They were so moist and delicious.

- Did you eat them?
- Oh, you'd be so proud of me, Miss Holt.

I turned over a new leaf.
I gave those shameful cookies away.

How can you do that?
What's the matter with you?

Laura, get a grip
on yourself, please.!

- What have I done?
- Now, Mildred, please, listen.

Two people have already been
brutally murdered for those cookies.

Whoever has them now is marked for death.
Who did you give them to?

- Miss Dalrymple.
- Miss Dalrymple!

Mildred!
You silly, silly woman!

Excuse me. Ooh.

Miss Dalrymple.!
Miss Dalrymple.

Oh, there you are.
You're safe at last, my dear!

Well, you're alive!

Well, why shouldn't I be?

- It's not another bomb, is it?
- Miss Dalrymple...

where are the cookies
that Mildred gave you?

- They're very popular.
- What do you mean?

Well, two men just came and offered me
a hundred dollars for them.

You didn't give them
the cookies, did you?

No, I told them my coach had them.
Let him make a hundred.

- Where is he?
- In the locker room.

Locker room.

Grab him!

Come here, sunshine!
Swing around there!

- You all right?
- Yeah.

I was just gonna take a shower when
those bozos started banging me around.

The cookies that
Miss Dalrymple gave you-

Yeah, that's what they wanted.
A stupid tin of cookies.

- Where is that stupid tin of cookies?
- I gave it to Tyrone.

- Who's Tyrone?
- My son.

- Where is he?
- He's at school. Why?

Oh! Quick.
Come on. Let's go.

Come on!

Come on!

Ah, my hand. Ow!
Somebody's sitting on my hand!

- Someone's sitting on Miss Dalrymple's hand.
- I'm sure it's not me.

Her wrist is my livelihood.
Whoever it is, get up!

It's a Mad, Mad,
Mad, Mad World.

Profound observation,
Mr. Steele.

Spencer Tracy, Sid Caesar.
United Artists, 1963.

A group of people jump into their cars and begin
a mad chase after something very valuable.

- You're not suggesting-
- Uh-huh.

One car back.
The white Cadillac.

You might check out
the red convertible as well.

Who are all these people?

Mm. It seems our friends from
Varicorp haven't forgotten us either.

How do you suppose
they all caught on so fast?

Remember the laboratory?

Oh, it's a safe bet
they bugged our office as well.

Uh-huh. So you wanna
listen in, eh?

Well, stay away from
that ruddy tin of cookies!

One more person gets hurt, and I'm gonna
come after you, you got it?

They're chasing us
for a tin of cookies?

All right, you all know what Tyrone
looks like, so let's fan out!

Yeah. And don't
come back empty-handed.

Ah, you stay with me.

How do you run
in those heels?

- How do you serve an ace?
- I trained for it.

Same here.

- Oh, no!
- Oh! What? Oh!

Uh- Uh-oh.
Unfortunately we're not alone.

Varicorp is on our tail.

- Uh, I'll distract our friend.
- Where shall we regroup?

Uh, some place inconspicuous.
Uh, the boys' locker room.

Come on! Let's go.

Give me that tin!

- Hey, let go, lady! Let go!
- Wait, wait.

Food and Drug Administration.
This cookie's condemned!

What's
your problem, lady?

You know, in a bizarre way,
this is kinda fun.

Ah, Miss Dalrymple, you're a woman after
my own heart. Quick. In here.

- Oh, nice smash!
- Oh. Come on.

- Wait. I can't go in there.
- What?

Oh, strictly a duty call,
Miss Dalrymple. Come on.

Laura? Laura? Laura?

Laura, is this
really necessary?

Come on.
Come on.

We did it.
We did it!

We did it! We did it!

What did we do?
Uh-oh.

Uh-oh.

First closets, now commodes.
Your style is appalling.

Good afternoon.

Oh!

I think the coast is clear, Mildred.

No!

You learn to look twice
in this racket.

Don't forget,
danger is my life. Come on.

- Oh!
- Shhh.

- They've got Sandy.
- Oh!

What are we gonna do
if they start shooting?

Oh, you amateurs
wanna know everything.

You know,
Mr. Steele, each of our suspects...

had a motive for
murdering Walter Munzinger.

But why would any of them
kill Mike Spencer?

- Great. Now you don't have any suspects.
- Perhaps one.

Grab him, boss!

Give me those cookies!

Give me those cookies!

I got it! Chief, I got-

- I had it!
- They'll be no breadlines in this country!

Gloria! Grab him!

Oh! Oh! Ooh!

Right where
I want you, Holt.

Grab it, Laura.!
Grab it.!

Stay!
Stay right there!

Out of the way.
Let me.

Back where you belong!

Amazing, isn't it, Laura?

The secret to Walter's recipe
is contained in this single cookie.

- May I have the postal receipt, Mr. Steele?
- Yes. You may.

I would think this receipt
makes you the owner, Gloria.

I can't believe it.

We can't either.
Because according to the date...

Walter mailed it
after he died.

You knew he sent us
the cookies. All you needed...

- was a phony receipt to claim them.
- What are you getting at?

If the deal for Varicorp
had gone through...

you would have married
a very wealthy man.

You must have got a bit of a shock
when Walter decided to sell out, eh?

And with Spencer still alive,
you had no claim on Walter's creation...

so he had to be
disposed of as well.

I did so hope you'd
come through unscathed.

Don't worry, Mr. Steele.
The only thing scathed is my dignity.

- Oh, of course.
- Great work, hon!

Now, where's that cookie that's gonna
change the shape of the world?

Oh!

I ask myself, I mean,
what was on Walter's mind...

to turn down
$10 million, eh?

- Walter was an idealist, an ivory-tower thinker.
- Oh.

The only way to duplicate his formula
was to analyze those cookies.

There probably won't be
another mind like his for centuries.

Oh, come, Laura.
It's not the end of the world.

It's easy for you to say,
you and your enviable metabolism.

See? Look at Miss Krebs.

- I mean, she's taking it like a trouper.
- Oh-

I met a guy last night
at Weight Watchers...

and there's gonna be a hot time
in the old town tonight.

- Oh.
- Ooh, Miss Dalrymple's here to see you.

Ah! Send her in, Mildred.
Send her in.

Ah, Miss Dalrymple.

Yes, come in.
Ah, Miss Dalrymple.

It's my distinct pleasure
to be undividedly yours.

Clay, what a pleasant surprise.

I hope there are
no hard feelings.

All in the line
of duty, Laura.

In that case,
I'm free for lunch.

Sorry, this isn't
a social call.

Uh, that's what I came
to tell you.

I've decided to go with
a more conservative agency.

One that better understands
my concern for safety and decorum.

Shall we?

- Well, Laura, it looks like just you and me again, eh?
- Yep.

Just two mature,
consenting adults...

alone at last.

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