Original subtitles

Not too much

at first.

I'VE GOT IT!

How was the

big presentation?

It was a disaster.

You've indicated this team

has worked in the past,

so apparently they have

something to offer.

Inasmuch as I was responsible

for our disastrous presentatio,

I apologize.

Another day,

another pill.

[alarm ringing]

I didn't put this

in there, I...I

It's okay Frank, let me just get

you back to your ward.

It's this way.

You didn't see him doctor.

He wasn't his normal self.

Need I remind you , Frank

Quincy is a mental patient.

But this feels off, like there's

more to it.

MP: Where'd you say

you found this?

I didn't.

My boy found it.

Man: Chief Sanders,

we need to talk.

[Door opening]

[footsteps]

[footsteps]

[door closing]

Man: He's ready sir.

[door opening]

♪

♪

♪

[sigh]

♪

♪

♪

♪

Has anyone offered you

anything to drink yet?

♪ How long 'til the sun sets?

♪ How long can we hold today? ♪

♪ I don't ever want to say good

night, my love. ♪

♪ I don't ever want to say good

night, my love. ♪

♪ I don't ever want to say good

night, my love. ♪

Where's Dad?

Your dad had work business

to attend to.

Mom, this is burnt.

Just scrape

the burnt part off.

When's he coming back?

He'll be back

when he's finished,

now eat your breakfast.

Interviewer: So you've been

Granite Flats' Chief of Police

for how long now?

Four years.

Okay, I see, I see.

You've lived here

your whole life?

All those files, you're still

asking basic questions?

In a bureaucracy

such as ours,

accumulated knowledge has the

unfortunate habit of getting,

shall we say, misplaced.

You like it here?

What?

Granite Flats, I mean it

seems like a nice town,

very quiet.

It's home.

Indeed.

Am I under arrest?

Of course not,

why would you think that?

Oh, well you come to my house

in the middle of the night,

escort me to some

empty warehouse,

treat me like a criminal.

I don't see any handcuffs,

no shackles,

were you frisked

when you got here?

So you came voluntarily.

And I'm here to cooperate,

so why don't you just let me

know what I'm doing here.

We're just having

a conversation.

You and I.

Ah, so let's see, you've

lived here your whole life,

as did your father.

He did.

Robert Timothy Sanders.

Good solid name, my father is

plain old James Scott.

Good terms?

You and your father?

We got on well I suppose.

Uh huh, he was a communist,

no?

And here I thought you

brought me down here

to talk about all the

strange metal I found.

He went to some

meetings, yes.

That's interesting, because

I was under the impression

that he was

an active member in the party

for almost two decades,

arrested in a protest, 1937.

He believed in the rights

of the working man.

Back then when you "sympathized

with the working man,"

that's what they

called it.

It was a different time.

You don't have to tell me.

So this metal, I understand

you've amassed

quite the collection.

Don't have much of

a collection now.

Yeah, well they shouldn't

have appropriated

those pieces

from your station.

Believe me, I had nothing

to do with that.

But the bureau, well the

bureau has a tendency to be

a bit brutish, heavy handed,

take first, ask questions later

Me, I prefer to ask

questions first.

To whit, what is your interest

in the metal?

Well I've never seen anything

like it before,

I was trying to figure out

what it is,

where it came from.

I see.

Anyone ask you to collect it?

Ask me?

Like who?

I don't know, a co-worker,

family friend?

Look, a couple weeks ago

I get some reports

about damage around town,

all of it caused by these

strange metal pieces.

Where'd they come from?

I was thinking maybe they

fell off a low-flying plane

or helicopter,

maybe something military.

Military?

Now, I'm confused.

You find all this, what you

yourself have called

pieces of strange metal,

possibly dangerous,

possibly military, but you,

the chief of police,

instead of filing a report--

With who?

You locked them away

in your garage.

Do you know what it is?

We've been at this a while.

Are you hungry?

Because I'm hungry.

Hey guys, I picked us

some apples,

that old tree is

full of them.

So I formed a new hypothesis

regarding us.

Us?

Specifically, what keeps us

together.

We're friends, we don't need

a reason to stick together.

We could have used one during

our science presentation mess.

Precisely, hence my

hypothesis.

I've determined that

in order to ensure

that we don't split

apart again,

we need to be engaged in

solving another mystery.

Mystery?

Like looking for the metal.

Madeline: Exactly.

Another mystery sure

sounds great,

but how is that supposed to

keep us together?

Simple group dynamics,

interpersonal bonds

are often strengthened by

a shared project,

hence I propose we find

and solve a mystery.

Madeline: Are we in agreement?

Sure, Arthur?

I'm game.

Madeline: Good, then I have the

perfect mystery to start with,

the mystery of the classroom's

missing encyclopedia,

volume 15,

Viceroy to Warsaw.

Uh, couldn't it just be lost.

Madeline: I considered that.

But then I determined that it

went missing three weeks ago

precisely when we were

paired up for the science fair.

So you think somebody took it

for their preliminary research!

Possibly.

Arthur: Maybe they took it

to sabotage somebody

else's presentation.

Madeline: I hadn't thought about

that.

Academia is ripe with

cutthroat competition.

Who would do something

like this?

It was me!

I took it.

Both: You?

I took it home

to look up volcanoes.

I know I should have asked

permission,

but I didn't even think of it

until after class

and Miss Craber was down in the

teachers' lounge

and I was going to return it

the next morning,

except then I burned it.

You burned it?

Why?

I would never burn

a book on purpose.

I was reading it in bed

under the covers

so I wouldn't bother my brothes

and so they wouldn't bother me.

But my flashlight died.

And then I learned

the hard way

that you should never read under

the covers by candlelight.

Please don't turn me in.

I'm saving up my allowance

to pay for it, honest.

So, does it count as solving

the mystery

if the criminal cracks

his own case?

Woman: I guess I never realized

how much this room

looks like me.

I'd say it's time it looked

more like you.

It's fine.

Woman: It could use

a little sprucing up.

The bare minimum, get rid of

that flowery wallpaper.

What do you say?

We'll go down to

the hardware store,

pick out something

a little bit more mod,

come back, put on overalls,

make a big mess,

it'll be fun.

I'm reading.

When I was eight,

my family and I moved

into a much bigger house,

I finally had my

own room--

If I say yes, will

you can the story?

Well just for that,

Mr. Smart Aleck,

on the drive over,

I'm going to tell you all about

how I made my own prom dress,

and we're taking

the long way.

♪

Hey Kit, where you been?

How are you feeling today,

Lieutenant Quincy?

Why, Nurse Milligan,

I'm doing just dandy.

You are, aren't you?

I'm glad to hear that.

Except for being stood up

in the records room.

The records room?

You said you had some big,

all-important questions for me?

Frank, that was two days--

Oh, I'm sorry,

where has the time gone,

it's my mistake,

I've been really busy

with my other patients.

You understand, don't you?

Naturally.

Another time?

You're the boss.

Is there anything else

you need,

anything I can get you

to make you more comfortable?

I'm fine, thank you.

Interviewer: I'm curious,

how does the son of

an avowed communist

grow up to become the

town's chief of police?

An investigative mind,

I guess.

Why don't you just ask me?

Ask you what?

Am I now or have I ever been

a member of the communist party?

You are no communist.

Excuse me?

This is the bureau.

I have to ask those

red-baiting questions.

Although truth be told,

I do find people's

reactions informative.

I like to know

who I'm dealing with.

[slams fist on desk]

Who you're dealing with

is the chief of police.

The minute you started an

investigation in my town

you should have notified me.

Instead, you break into

my station,

steal evidence--

To be fair,

your secretary,

she left without locking up.

We didn't break in.

You said you had nothing

to do with that.

If I'm not under arrest,

I'm leaving.

You're free to go anytime.

Of course, then you'll

never know

where all of that metal

came from.

That is, if that's something

you're still interested in.

♪

It can be any mystery.

Arthur: Hey, did Mrs. Peterman

ever find her cat?

My dad's looked all over

for that cat.

If he can't find it,

I don't think we can.

Just because

he didn't find it

doesn't mean

it can't be found.

No one solves

every case.

Not even your dad.

I guess so.

Arthur: I'll bet you

we could find it.

That'd be a mystery,

right, Madeline?

I think it qualifies.

She thinks it was taken

by aliens.

Let's assume

it wasn't.

Interviewer: This is what we

recovered.

It doesn't look like much

right now,

I know, but you should see it

on the main body.

So what is it?

That is one of the

most sophisticated

surveillance satellites

ever built.

Orbits the earth

in under an hour,

flying repeatedly over

enemy territory

and snapping

hundreds of pictures.

Police Chief: This

thing can do that?

Interviewer: It did until a

couple of weeks ago

when its orbit degraded and it

crashed somewhere in your town.

Which is why you fellows have

been sneaking around,

trying to find one of our

down birds.

♪

It's not one

of our birds, is it?

While these were designed

to land in the ocean,

we're hoping the cameras were

able to withstand the impact

of a serious land crash.

We'd like to recover

the film,

find out exactly what the

Soviets have been looking at.

Recovering that satellite,

and I don't think

I'm overstating this,

is absolutely vital to the

security of this nation.

Unfortunately, we have no

idea where it is.

Well I may have something to

help with that.

[eerie music]

But it was the aliens.

Madeline: That is highly

improbable, impossible actually.

[piano playing

in the other room]

Now your arpeggios,

Stanley!

On the off chance that he

wasn't taken by aliens,

wouldn't you like

to get him back.

[piano playing

in the other room]

Fingering, Stanley!

Mrs. Peterman: Well, I suppose

they could have brought

my Douglass back,

but what if he couldn't

find his way home?

You really think that you

could bring him back to me.

We could sure try.

We'll need a picture of him.

Good thinking.

Mrs. Peterman: Of course!

Which one would you like?

Now, you kids be careful, I

will not be held responsible

if the aliens take you too.

Is this straight?

Uh huh.

Isn't this better

than flowers?

Not bad.

Knock, knock.

I hope you don't mind,

I let myself in.

Regina: Not at all, Wallace grab

the stepstool from Mr. Mayo.

Now it's your turn

to do the hanging.

Who wants something to drink?

Mr. Mayo: Well I wouldn't say no

to your world famous lemonade.

Regina: Coming right up.

Nice paper.

It's okay.

Mr. Mayo: It's good

to see you settling in

so nicely around here.

Of course, any kid would be

lucky to have Regina

as a mom.

I'm glad you found

each other.

Especially coming

from such a hard scrabble

situation as yours.

Who wants lemonade?

Thank you.

Nurse: Dr. Whittison, I had

another strange encounter

with Lieutenant Quincy earlier.

I'm afraid he might be

getting worse.

Doctor: How so?

Nurse: It's like he forgot

an entire day.

It's strange, at times he seems

so rational, charming, even.

And I find it hard to believe

that he's a mental patient,

but then today, he-

Doctor: -Nurse Milligan,

how many mentally disturbed

patients did you treat

at Edwards?

Nurse: Not many.

Doctor: I've been doing this

a long time,

and the one thing that still

confounds me is the ability

of mentally ill patients to

at times, seem perfectly normal.

These are men

who have been in war,

trained in the ways

of violence,

good men to be sure

but we can't help them

unless we remain vigilant to

their true natures.

I hope I'm making myself

clear Mrs. Milligan.

Nurse: Absolutely, sir.

[scraping]

You know,

it's not quite lined up.

We better fix this

before it dries.

Boy: It's fine.

Regina: It's your wall.

Boy: Can we just finish?

[scraping]

Tim: You really think Douglass

has been down here

all this time, in Mrs.

Peterman's own basement?

Arthur: Why not?

We've looked everywhere else

and found nothing.

Tim: Maybe it was aliens.

I know,

but it'd sure be neat.

Madeline: Why would aliens even

want a cat?

Arthur: To catch space mice.

Madeline: If you're not going to

take this seriously-

Arthur: You have to admit, it's

pretty hard to take it seriously

when you're looking for a cat

with a name like Douglass.

Madeline: His name has no

bearing on the fact

that he is missing,

nor should it affect how

seriously we take our search.

Tim: I'm taking it seriously.

I even came up with a name,

The Secret of the Absent Cat.

Arthur: That's not very

exciting.

How about, The Case of the

Cruel Catnappers?

Madeline: We don't know there

was any catnapping.

At this point,

it's premature to assume

there's anything sinister

going on.

Man: Stop searching for

that cat.

Tim: Oh, it's just you

Mr. Peterman.

Arthur: Why do you want us to

stop looking for your mom's cat?

Mr. Peterman: Have you ever

heard the expression,

"Let sleeping dogs lie?"

It applies to cats too,

forget about the cat.

Tim: We can't do that.

We made a promise

to find Douglass.

Mr. Peterman: You're not going

to, so just go home.

Arthur: What makes you so sure

we won't?

Madeline: We've only just

initiated our investigation.

Tim: Yeah, and we're pretty

determined.

Mr. Peterman: I got rid of him,

okay?

Tim: You got rid of Douglass?!

Why?

Mr. Peterman: Shh!

Keep your voice down.

I had to.

It was for her own good.

Mother was so

horribly allergic

she could barely

pet the poor thing,

wheezing and

sneezing all the time.

She was miserable.

Douglass was miserable.

I tried to get her to give

him to a good home,

but she wouldn't hear of it.

I didn't know what to do.

Tim: So you...

[making cutting noise]

Mr. Peterman: No, a college

buddy of mine lives on a farm

outside of Boulder.

He offered to take Douglass.

Madeline: You stole your

mother's cat?

Arthur: And told her he was

abducted by aliens?

Why?

Mr. Peterman: I didn't tell her

that.

I figured she'd think

Douglass ran away,

then she came up with that

cockamamie story

about the aliens

and I just left it.

You can't tell her.

Arthur: Why shouldn't we?

Mr. Peterman: Douglass is happy,

mother can breathe again,

please just leave it be.

Tiim: But we're in the business

of discovering the truth.

What are we supposed to tell

Mrs. Peterman?

Mr. Peterman: Here, give her

this.

Police Chief: In my search I was

able to locate nine pieces,

each time I found one I

marked an x on the map.

Interviewer: And you found all

these on your own?

So why do I see two different

types of handwriting?

Police Chief: The first casualty

of working at night,

my writing gets sloppy.

Assistant: I count nine x's,

but you only have eight pieces.

Police Chief: I gave a piece to

a buddy of mine on the base

to see if he could come

up with anything.

I thought it might be

military, remember?

Interviewer: You certainly

were determined

to figure this thing out,

we're going to need

that one back.

Police Chief:

I'll take care of it.

Interviewer: Okay, we also

found a few pieces,

here, here, and here.

Police Chief: Let me see that

file, would you?

If we connect the dots, maybe

we'll find out where it went.

If we follow this

trajectory...

Interviewer: The reservoir.

Madeline: We've examined all of

the evidence,

and we've determined that...

we've determined...

Tim: We've determined that your

cat was taken by aliens.

Mrs. Peterman: That's what I've

been saying all along.

I didn't need you kids

to tell me that.

I mean, honestly.

[piano playing in the other

room]

A flat, Winnie!

Arthur: Well that sure was

a bust.

Tim: Not every mystery

gets solved.

Madeline: Technically we did

solve it.

We determined

the cat's location.

Arthur: Then how come it feels

like we're over too?

♪

Arthur: A whole Saturday down

the drain.

Good theory Madeline.

Madeline: Just because we

haven't found a suitable mystery

doesn't mean my

hypothesis isn't sound.

Tim: Whoever thought finding the

mystery would be

the hardest part of

solving the mystery?

Tim's brother: We've got a

mystery for you,

I think Jeff borrowed my

catcher's mitt again.

Arthur: Okay.

Tim's brother: Well he's always

borrowing my stuff

without asking.

Tim: Me too!

One time.

Madeline: Timmy.

Tim's brother: If I ask him,

he'll just say he didn't take it

and probably put it back when

I'm not looking.

Tim: He does that to me too!

Sorry, go on.

Tiim's brother: So I was

thinking if you guys found it,

maybe with his stuff,

then at least I could

prove he took it.

I mean,

if you guys could find it.

Tim: Sure we can.

Can you believe it?

We need a mystery

and one just falls into our lap.

Madeline: Hardly what I had in

mind when I made my proposal.

Arthur: Seriously Timmy,

as far as mysteries go,

this one is pretty pathetic.

Tim's brother: If you guys don't

think you can find it.

Tim: We'll find it, won't we?

Arthur: Then again, beggars

can't be choosers.

Madeline: Very well, I suggest

we start

with a systematic search.

Starting in the uppermost

corner of-

Tim: Let's start in my room.

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

Hey Kit.

Lieutenant Quincy,

what can I do for you?

Well for starters you can

tell me why you and I

are suddenly so formal.

We're not formal, Frank.

Look, I'm here because I'm

crazy not because I'm stupid,

remember?

I don't mean to overstep,

but I sort of felt that you and

I have a certain connection

beyond the nurse-patient

relationship.

I like to think that I have

a connection

with all of my patients.

It is my job.

I'm sorry Frank, I have to get

these files to Dr. Whittison.

Wait, sorry.

No, thank you,

I'm fine.

We'll talk later,

okay?

[footsteps on stairs]

Tim: We looked all over the

house and the yard,

all of his usual

hiding places.

But we didn't find anything.

Tim's brother: Hm, did you check

the basement?

Tim: We didn't think

to check there.

I noticed the door's open.

I bet Jeff's down there.

Tim's brother: Well go,

catch him!

♪

Tim: Jeff.

Jeff!

Jeff!

Madeline: Your brother's not

down here.

Arthur: Hey, is that the mitt?

[splash]

[laughing]

MP:Two visits in as many days,

to what do I owe the pleasure?

Police Chief: About that piece

of metal I brought by

the other day,

this is a little

embarrassing.

Remember how I told you my

kid found it?

MP: Your kid didn't find it.

Police Chief: No, he found it

alright outside the junkyard.

It turns out it's nothing

but a bit of scrap metal.

MP: Well then, good thing I

didn't waste the lab boys' time.

Everything okay, Johnny Boy?

I don't think I've ever seen

you unshaven.

Police Chief: Overslept.

MP: That's not like you, having

trouble sleeping.

Something on your mind?

Police Chief: Just that I need

to wake up on time.

♪

Thanks.

Again, sorry to bother you

with this.

MP: Don't sweat it.

You get some rest now,

you hear?

Madeline: In retrospect, it

should have been obvious.

Arthur: Some detectives

we turned out to be.

Tim: It wasn't even

a real mystery.

Arthur: Yeah,

and real detectives

would have figured that out.

Tim: It's just, it seemed like

we were going like gang busters

with our investigation

of the comet.

Arthur: That investigation

didn't lead anywhere.

Let's face it,

Madeline was wrong.

We're no good

at solving mysteries.

♪

♪

Police Chief: Hey, maybe I

should get taken away

by the feds more often.

Wife: Don't even joke like that.

Everything's okay, right?

Police Chief: Yes, everything's

okay.

Wife: So what did they want?

Police Chief: They wanted

information

about something I've

been looking into.

Wife: Something to do with some

strange metal in our garage?

Police Chief: Beauty and brains,

how'd I get so lucky?

It was the metal, yeah.

I can't get into it,

but let's just say

the big guys needed a hand

from the little guy.

Wife: There's been a lot of that

going around lately.

Police Chief: I suppose.

Wife: It sounds like someone's

obsessiveness

with finding the metal paid off

Police Chief: Are you calling me

obsessive?

Wife: Who says I was talking

about you?

Oh, you must be starving.

[knocking]

MP: Where's that story

you promised me?

Journalist: Sheesh, remind me

which one of us is on deadline?

MP: The guy keeps making excuses

to come and see me.

You do something

to tip him off?

Journalist: I know how to ask

questions discreetly,

though I'm not sure you gave

me much to ask about.

MP: You look into Ted

Travelstead?

Journalist: Ted Travelstead,

put away for manslaughter

by one Chief John Sanders,

hanged himself in his cell two

weeks into his sentence.

Of course that's not what you

wanted me to dig up.

You're more interested in the

man who confessed to the crime

after Travelstead's death,

and the possibility that your

old friend John Sanders

put the wrong man behind bars.

MP: And I suppose you think that

makes me a real heel?

Journalist: Thing is, I've

covered my fair share of crimes.

Wrongful conviction

in a small town

doesn't exactly scream

front page,

especially when by all accounts

Chief Sanders did everything

by the book.

MP: Of course he did.

You're looking

at this all wrong, hon.

It's not what Sanders did,

it's what it did to him.

It tore him up inside.

It made him gun shy.

He is obsessed with making

sure it never happens again.

Obsession like that clouds

a man's judgment.

Remind you of

any current case?

I'm no journalist,

but a police chief afraid of

getting a conviction?

Journalist: Hm.

Major, I know your

colonel's said no interviews

with Jenkins,

but if I'm going to present

a truly balanced story,

I could sure use

a one-on-one with him.

MP: I'll make it happen.

You wanted to see me, sir?

Sit down, Tim.

♪

Tim, as chief of police

sometimes I come across things

that I can't talk about.

You understand that?

Your investigation

into the metal-

We haven't pursued

that at all, sir.

Not since you told us not to.

Good.

Not that we didn't want to,

especially Arthur,

on account of him seeing

the comet,

or whatever it was

he saw in the sky that night,

although I sure would like

to know what it was too.

But it's probably

for the best,

since we figured out we're

not really any good

at being investigators.

What I'm trying

to tell you, son,

is your investigation

meant something,

especially your map.

It did?

It helped out

some important people.

Really?

How?

What people?

Do they know

what the metal was?

Where it came from?

Did it come from outer space,

I mean I know it probably wasn't

aliens but what was it?

I can't say any more.

Oh, okay.

But I want you to know

if say tonight you happen to be

on Stark's Hill,

looking out over the reservoir,

well there'd be no harm

in that.

But why would I be

on Stark's Hill?

You and your friends like

to go bike riding

in the woods, right?

Sometimes, sure.

But that hill's pretty steep.

Right, because it's

above the reservoir,

and you can see clear

across the whole reservoir.

And Tim, put away

my binoculars

when you're done with them.

Tim: But I haven't

touched your...

♪

♪

[knocking]

Frank: Hey Doc.

Frank, what are you doing up?

I could ask you

the same thing.

Join me, I hate playing

solitaire alone.

So, what's

on your mind Frank?

You didn't come to my office

in the middle of the night

to play cards.

These tests we're doing...

Important work.

That's why I signed on.

What is it Frank?

Did we do another round

of pills recently,

because I sort

of remember we did.

We did.

I'm just trying to understand

what they did to me,

except when I try

to think about it,

it's fuzzy,

kind of like a dream.

Dream, yeah, well

I'm not surprised,

considering how long

you slept.

Twelve hours straight,

if I'm not mistaken.

Twelve hours?

Look, these tests are

trial and error.

Sometimes error is

all we get.

That's a relief.

So, shall we?

Actually, sleeping it off sounds

like a good idea right now.

So, can I get a rain check?

Of course.

Come to me any time

you have questions.

Yeah I know what time it is.

We've got a problem.

Frank Quincy is

asking questions.

♪

What was so important

you had to meet me

in the middle

of the night?

Just wondering

why your old buddy Slim was so

eager to burn you.

Well, I'm sure I couldn't say.

I don't have the energy to

concern myself

with Slim's doings, or yours.

I understand.

Any idea why he'd have me

chase down Ted Travelstead

after all these years?

I assume it has something

to do with wanting me

off the Jenkins

investigation.

And why would

he want that?

Because you think

Jenkins is innocent.

You have any proof?

If Jenkins didn't do it,

who did?

Believe it or not chief, I'm

interested in the truth.

You're interested

in the story.

Well I'm lucky the two

come together.

Something tells me

you have info I could use.

And what do you have?

I've got an interview

with Jenkins.

And how'd you swing that,

I wonder.

Apparently your untrustworthy

friend trusts me.

At the very least, he thinks

he can use me.

You and I team up, maybe we

can figure out the truth,

keep an innocent man

out of jail.

What do you say, partners?

♪

♪

♪

[tearing sounds]

♪

Arthur: What are we supposed

to be looking for?

Timmy: I don't know, exactly.

Madeline: Are you certain your

dad wants us to be up here now,

in the middle of the night?

I told you, my dad didn't

really tell me anything.

I think he couldn't.

Maybe somebody was listening.

G-men!

Madeline: Why would g-men be

listening?

Timmy: Down at the reservoir!

I think, my dad!

And there's a truck with a

winch or something.

[machine noises]

Interviewer: That's it, that's

it, bring 'er up slowly.

Timmy: They're pulling

something up.

Arthur: Let me see.

Timmy: Golly!

You got to see this.

Arthur: I was trying.

It's definitely not a comet.

Timmy: It's a spaceship!

Madeline: May I please look?

Arthur: Not a spaceship,

it's a satellite!

Timmy: A satellite?

Madeline: Can I have a turn?

Timmy; What kind of satellite?

Madeline: Give me those.

Arthur: So that's

what I saw that night.

A satellite crashing.

Madeline: It appears so.

By the look

of the cyrillic lettering,

I'd say it was a

Soviet satellite.

Timmy: Soviet, no wonder my

dad couldn't come right out

and tell me, it's top secret.

Police Chief: Holy smokes.

Timmy: Holy smokes.

What's wrong, Arthur?

Arthur: Nothing, I just wish my

dad could have seen this.

Timmy: Maybe he can.

Madeline: You do realize what

all of this means, don't you?

Timmy: We are investigators!

Timmy: We are investigators!

Just a stake bed?

I was expecting

a full military convoy.

The bureau prefers

to keep a low profile.

Agent Boyd will be driving

this out of town shortly.

The country thanks you

for your help, John.

And I thank you.

[car engine]

♪

Come on, we got to go,

[knocking]

We got to go.

Hey, Scott, hey!

[metal bar hitting head]

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

Journalist: Let's talk about

Corporal Bartowski.

Lady, you are

way off track here.

My dad's not a loser.

You know, he won't

even see you.

The till is

short again.

I didn't take it.

We believe you.

We'll take the case.

The store was robbed.

Robbed?

Frank, why are

you telling me this?

Your husband.

Roy.

You knew Roy?

[lightning crackles]

Very interesting.