All language subtitles for Barnaby Jones S01E11 To Denise, with Love and Murder.DVDRip.HI.cc.eng

(theme music playing)

Starring Buddy Ebsen.

Also starring Lee Meriwether.

With guest stars Bill Bixby.

Louise Troy.

Alex, are you going out?

Well, yes.
Yes, I was, uh...

I was heading over
to the club for a bit.

Why? Did you have
something going?

Oh, no, no.

I, I just hoped we might
do something together.

Oh. Well, good.
Then why don't you
come along with me?

Maybe we can get up a foursome.

Why don't we make it a twosome?

And what do we do,
go to the park?

And I'll carve
our initials in a tree?

"Alex loves Hazel."

(chuckles)
Oh, Alex.

Am I being that tiresome?

No. You're being affectionate.

And possessive.

And obviously very proud to be
seen with your husband,

and I love it.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I seem to be doing
a lot of apologizing lately

and I don't know why.

Nor I.

You don't have to apologize.

WOMAN:
Uh, Mrs. Chandler?

You're wanted on the phone.

Who is it, Martha?

I don't know.
They wouldn't give a name.

Oh. Well, I'll take it
in the sitting room.

(engine starting)

Alex?

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Hello, Alex.

Hello.

Well, what's this?

It's a little party, darling.

A little party...
is for two.

Well, I have a surprise for you.

(moans)

Your wife is joining us.

The joke's in bad taste.

I may not know too much
about good taste, Alex,

but it's no joke.

I phoned her and I invited her.

I don't believe it.

Denise, you couldn't
be that stupid.

What's more, darling,
she's coming.

Do you know what you've done?

I mean, do you have any idea?

She had to be told, Alex,
and you kept putting it off.

Look, Alex,
it has been six months.

I gave up my job.

I've been stuck
in this apartment.

Are you getting a divorce?

Are we ever getting married
or not?

What did you say to her?

Nothing.

I simply told her that it was
time we sat down

and worked out
a settlement for her.

A settlement?

We're going to pay her off
with what?

Look, don't you pretend you
haven't got plenty of money.

I know where you live
and you drive a Rolls-Royce.

You don't know anything!

Now, I want you to call her
back on the phone right now.

You tell her you made a mistake.

Do you understand?
You tell her

you got in touch with
the wrong Mrs. Chandler.

Just a minute, Alex.

I'm telling you to call her

right now and I don't care
what you say,

but you keep her away
from this place.

You don't have any money,
do you?

It comes from her, doesn't it?

Call her!

It all comes from her,
doesn't it, Alex?

The money for the gifts,
my ring.

Well, I bet you she's even
paying for this apartment.

She's rich and you're...

What are you, Alex?

There's a word for men
who marry rich, old women.

What is it?

I'm telling you to shut up.

Come on, Alex. Say it.

Say it, you gigolo.

(shouts)

(screams)

(dishes clatter)

(sighs)

(grunts)
(shattering)

Denise, I'm sorry.

Hey.

Denise?

(buzzing)

(buzzing)

(buzzing)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(body thuds)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(clock tolls)

Alex?

Oh... Hazel. (sighs)

Since you didn't want to go out,

I-I decided to take a drive.

I... I almost got hit
by a drunken driver.

It really shook me up.

Why don't you stop lying, Alex?

I know all about you
and Denise Fraser.

She asked me over
to discuss a settlement.

For me. Isn't that a laugh?

Hazel...

She's a silly, little

airline stewardess
I met on a plane.

She thinks
she's in love with me.

I've had absolutely
nothing to do with her.

Please believe me.

If this were the first time,
I might.

But it's a little late
for that now.

Now, look, you've got
this all wrong.

Now, give me the bag.

Let me go!
Give me the bag.

Now, you understand,
I want to help,

because after all,
that is what I'm selling.

But, uh, to tell you the truth,
Mr., uh... Turlock,

I'm not quite sure
in my own mind

exactly what it is you want.

I'm sorry, Mr. Jones.

I'm afraid I haven't expressed
it very well.

Well, let's see
if we can work it out.

Now you say that
you're afraid that, uh,

something has happened,
or is happening,

or is going to happen
to your sister,

Mrs., uh... Hazel
Turlock Chandler.

Yes, that's it exactly.

Why?

Well, that's the problem,
don't you see?

Nobody knows.

Poor Hazel hasn't been
seen for two weeks.

Alex won't let anybody in
the house.

Alex?
That's your brother-in-law?

He's my sister's husband.

Uh, you telephoned, of course?

Of course.

Alex always answers,
always gives the same reply:

"My wife isn't well
enough to see anybody."

And that includes
her own doctor.

I tell you, Mr. Jones,

poor Hazel is a prisoner
in her own house.

You say that literally.

It is her own house?

It's all hers.

Everything.

The man is
an absolute fortune hunter.

That was obvious from the start,
to everybody except poor Hazel.

And now he's gonna murder her,
if he hasn't already done it.

Well, I think you ought
to go to the police.

Mr. Jones, I have been
to the police.

They say that there's
no evidence

that any crime has
been committed,

and so they're powerless
to do anything.

I-I don't know what

we pay taxes for.

All right. All right,
I'll try to see

what I can find out
about your sister.

Now my secretary will

take care of all the details.

Thank you, Mr. Jones.

Yeah.

(whistles, clucks tongue)

♪ ♪

Aphids.

(doorbell rings)

Could you please not lay
on the bell?

There's a very sick woman
in the house.

Oh, I'm sorry.

What do you want?

Well, I'd like to see
Mrs. Alex Chandler.

Well, uh, she cannot be
disturbed right now.

If there's anything I can do,
I'm her husband.

Well, no. I have some papers

that require
Mrs. Chandler's signature.

Yes, well,
if you just give them to me,

I'll have her sign them
and I will mail them to you.

Well, I'm afraid that won't do

because I have to witness
her signature.

It'll only take a moment.

Than you'll have
to come back another time.

She's too sick
to see anyone;
doctor's orders.

Well, if-if she's under
a doctor's care,

I could get her an extension.

The doctor's name is...

Look, I don't give
a damn about your extension.

And I haven't got time

to stand here and talk
to you. Good day.

Mr. Chandler...

You ought to spray your roses.

(knocking)

(knocking continues)

MARTHA:
Are you looking
for someone?

Are you Martha?

That's half my name.

Well, I apologize
for the informality,

but the only information
I had was "Martha,"

this address, and you used to be
Mrs. Chandler's housekeeper.

I'm still her housekeeper.

Who gave you that information?

Charles Turlock.

He hired me to...

Well, he was worried
about his sister's health.

And he thought maybe
you might know how she is.

You some kind of
a policeman or something?

A private detective
hired by Mr. Turlock.

Well, I suppose
you'd better come in.

But I'm warning you,

you're not gonna
get anything out of me,

because what I see in that house

and what I hear in that house
stays in that house.

A nice sentiment,
but you might be of help.

No one has seen or spoken

to Mrs. Chandler
in the last two weeks.

I wouldn't know about that.

I've been off for two weeks.

Why?

Well, they-they didn't
need me, of course.

Here, let me help you with that.

When was the last time
you saw Mrs. Chandler?

I just told you, two weeks ago.

Ah, so you did, Martha.

Was that when she laid you off?

I wasn't laid off.

Besides, it wasn't her.

Mr. Chandler called me
the next morning

and said he wouldn't be
needing me

for a few days.

Was Mrs. Chandler ailing
or anything?

She was going out for tea.

Now does that sound like ailing?

Would you know with whom?

The name was Denise Fraser.

And don't ask me who she is,

because I've never heard
of her before.

You mean she invited Mrs.
Chandler to tea,

and Mrs. Chandler went
with a stranger?

A stranger to me isn't
necessarily a stranger to her.

Would you know where?

As a matter of fact, I do.

Mrs. Chandler asked me to look
it up for her on the map.

Uh... it's in Glendale
on Dadeland Street.

But that's the last words
you're gonna get out of me.

I respect
your discretion, Martha.

Mrs. Durant to you.

Mrs. Durant, uh,
thank you very much.

And the best of luck to you.

Well, when you've been
managing apartment buildings

long as I have, Mr. Jones,
nothing surprises you.

Especially the tricks
they pull to try

to duck out on the rent.

I'll bet you're not often
fooled, Mr. Woodford.

No. Oh, right here.

Right here is where I found
the box with her things.

Now you take this Denise Fraser.

Good-looking girl, really built.

Lives alone,

and as far as anyone
knows, uh... no job.

Okay, enough said?

I am reading your mind.

Now, right away,
right away I said,

"I got her pegged.

She'll take off secretly,
dead of night."

Two weeks ago she did.

"Denise Fraser.
Take three times a day."

This all she left?

Yep. Found it
over there by
the elevator

where I showed you,

like she, uh, laid it down
and forgot it.

Maybe she didn't have room
for this stuff in her car.

Oh, I doubt that,
Mr. Jones.

She drove away in a Rolls-Royce.

Did she, now?

Secretly in the dead
of the night.

How do you know
this, Mr. Woodford?

Well, I used to pass
her in the hall,

ride up and down
the elevator with her.

She wasn't a very friendly type.

As a matter of fact, she turned
out to be downright unfriendly.

She flattened me
with the heel of her shoe.

Why would she do that?

I was looking at her car.

Well, I don't think it was hers.

There'd never been a car in that
parking space until that night.

I came upon her
when she was skipping out.

I guess she thought
I was gonna blow
the whistle on her.

If I'd have known,
I'd have helped her move.

Did you happen to get
the license number?

Mr. Jones, I got hit in the head
with a shoe.

They don't have license numbers.

(chuckles)

(lock rattles)

ALEX:
All right, mister,
hold it right there.

I have a gun on you,

and if you don't believe it,
make a quick move.

What are you doing here?

Oh, I haven't got
these papers signed
by your wife yet.

You told me to come back later.

She's asleep,
and not in the garage.

Well, I could see that.

What kind of car
does your wife drive?
A Rolls, isn't it?

That's right, but I don't think
that's any of your business.

There's no car of any kind
in there now. Uh...

did she, uh, go away
somewhere, Mr. Chandler?

I told you...

Let me see that.

This has nothing
to do with my wife.

What do you want here?

Maybe we should let
the police take
care of this.

Never mind.

Just get out of here.

And don't try it again.

Next time, I'll shoot first.

Your sister was last seen
two weeks ago

when she left her house
to visit a Denise Fraser.

Who is she?

I was counting a lot
on your telling me who she is.

She's no one I ever heard of.

All we know about her is
that she is

a good-looking young lady

who lived alone in
an apartment in Glendale,

minus job or car.

But why would Hazel go
to see her?

I don't know,
but I know that she went.

A car just like hers was seen
in the garage

of the apartment house.

Now it's, uh, missing.

Do you think there's enough

to force the police
to take action?

Yeah, I think so,

along with the fact
that Lieutenant Taylor's

an old friend of mine.

If Mrs. Chandler has been
missing for two weeks

under somewhat mysterious
circumstances,

why wait until now to report it?

Well, um, in the beginning,

the circumstances were
not that mysterious.

Quite the contrary.

Um, you see, Lieutenant,

my wife has been going
through a stage;

slight emotional problems,

and when she got upset, it was
not uncommon for her

to just jump in the car
and drive off.

Where?

La Jolla, Santa Barbara, usually

to visit friends,
and... (sighs)

well, to save her embarrassment,

I would cover for her

by saying she was
upstairs with a headache, and

in a few days she'd come back

and no one ever
knew she was gone.

And this time?

I called La Jolla,
Santa Barbara, Palm Springs,

and none of her friends have
even heard from her.

And that's when you decided

to turn in a missing persons
report?

Well, first I called
my lawyer for advice.

Well, I told Mr. Chandler
to hold off a while longer

until I made some inquiries.

And I'm sure you wouldn't be
here, sir,

if you'd found out anything.

Well, I found out
that Mrs. Chandler's family

and friends in the city
no longer believe

she was at home sick.

And it was becoming
an increasing source

of embarrassment
to Mr. Chandler.

Well, now of course,
the most important thing is...

uh...

I'm worried sick.

Well, good morning, Charles.

I was going to ask
what you were doing here,

but now that I see your friend,
I think I can guess.

Where's my sister?

And don't tell me
she's home sick.

I know she's not there at all.

I'm afraid that Hazel has
disappeared, Charles.

What have you done to her?

She's dead, isn't she?

You've killed her
and hid her body.

You murderer.

You murderer.
BARNABY:
Hold it!

Well, I hated
to do that, Charles.

But I had no choice.

Let's go, Alex.

Take him to the washroom

and put some cold water
on his nose.

Were you waiting
to see me, Barnaby?

I was, but I got a feeling

that it's going to be
a waste of time now.

The housekeeper said
Mrs. Chandler left at 3:00 p.m.

to visit a woman
she didn't know.

Several hours later,

her car was still in that
apartment house garage.

A witness saw a Rolls

that may have been
Mrs. Chandler's car, Barnaby.

A tenant said he
saw Denise Fraser

check out of her apartment
in a tearing hurry

and drive away in a Rolls-Royce.

Mrs. Chandler hasn't
been seen since,

and neither has her car.

Anything else, Barnaby?

Yes.

Her brother thinks
she's been murdered.

What's Chandler's story?

He says his wife
took off in a snit,

leaving this note behind.

BETTY:
But did Mrs. Chandler
write the note?

Turlock admits that
it's her handwriting.

Of course, it's undated.

Oh, well, then.

Well, you've got to hand
it to Chandler, Betty.

He saw things coming to a
head, so he moved first.

Well, if he's so clever,

why did he lie about her
being in the house?

Well, if she's dead, he
bought himself two weeks

to cover up his tracks.

Hmm. And Denise Fraser?

Now, there is a young lady

that could throw a lot
of light on this case.

If you could find her.

I was going to say that.

You know that box of junk
she left in her garage?

Well, there was a half bottle
of pills in there.

She's on some kind
of medication.

Now, if she has
that prescription refilled...

Did you get the name
of the pharmacy?

No, I didn't.
Barnaby!

I was going to say that
I slipped the bottle

into my pocket absentmindedly.

(groans)

I wonder if I might be able to
get a prescription refilled.

Yes. Denise Fraser.

175062.

Yes, that's
Dr. Belfield.

You do deliver, don't you?

Oh, good. I just
want to make sure

that you don't send it
to my old address.

Right.

Thank you very much.

Try the Beckwith in Westchester.

It's one of those, uh,
swinging single apartments.

Try it. You
might like it.

I just might.

(snickers)

Welcome aboard.

I'm Sherry.

Um, Barnaby Jones.

Uh, is Denise a stewardess, too?

Oh, that's all
we have here, Mr. Jones.

Four of us share this place.

Um, even though it

doesn't look like it,

we're hardly ever
all here at once.

Why did Denise move out?

Well, all I can tell you
is Denise met a man.

She just quit her
job and took off.

She might have married
him, for all I know.

I don't think so.

Oh, he already was?

Well, that's standard.

Poor Denise.

Where might she go
if she broke up with him?

Uh, back to work, I guess.

She's still a stewardess,
Mr. Jones.

She could deadhead on any
flight anywhere in the country.

Or out of the country?

Sure.

Do you happen to have
a picture of her?

I bet you've seen a picture
of her plenty of times

and never knew it.

There she is.

Oh, so that's Denise.

Very pretty girl.

You mind if I keep this?

Oh, sure.
Tear out the page.

Thank you very much.

You know, uh,

Denise was taking, uh,

some sort of a medication
for something.

Uh, do you know what it was for?

Uh-huh. Air sickness.

(laughing)

Now, Barnaby, maybe you
have nothing better to do

than stand around drinking
milk in the middle of the day,

but I'm a working stiff.

Maybe I can lighten
your load a little, Joe.

Mrs. Chandler?

Yeah.

You turn anything?

We only got it this morning.

Don't tell me you found her.

Nope. Looking
for Denise Fraser.

She was a stewardess
until she quit her job,

when she met a man.

Alex Chandler?

Why not?

Where is this stewardess?

I figure she caught
a plane out of town,

and I also figure

she may have driven
that Rolls-Royce out here.

I talked
to the parking lot people.

People do that, you know.

They leave their cars out here
for days, sometimes a week.

But, uh, longer than that,

it, uh... gets a little
noticeable,

especially if it's
a luxury job like this.

Yep.

Keys are on the visor.

Of course, you've
checked it out already?

Even looked in the trunk.

Very funny.

No, Joe, it's not funny.

See the dark area on the rug?

Blood?

Blood.

I understand
Lieutenant Taylor is here.

Isn't he always?

We seem to be spending
all of our time together.

I wish I could feel

that all this was helping Hazel.

Mr. Jones.

Hello, Barnaby. Were
you looking for me?

Yep.

Well, perhaps
you gentlemen would like

to, uh... to use this room
to talk.

Well?

The stain we found in
the car trunk was blood.

Type AB.

Chandler's is type O.

We also found hair...
Woman's hair.

Skin scrapings, cloth fibers.

Barnaby, I think he killed
his wife and hid the body.

Are you ready to make an arrest?

Without the body, the
evidence is circumstantial.

Sorry, Lieutenant.

Can we see you upstairs
for a minute?

Right.

Oh, hang around
for a while, Barnaby.

What is it?

I don't know.

Mr. Jones...

I know you think
I killed my wife,

but you couldn't be more wrong.

Now, she's alive
somewhere. I know that.

Why would she stay away so long?

Maybe she doesn't
realize she's missing.

Front page story.

Then she must be someplace
where she can't see a newspaper.

No radio? No TV?

Where could such a place be?

I don't know where,
and I don't know why,

but I do know she'll
turn up somewhere,

alive and well.

(footfalls approaching)

Are these your boots,
Mr. Chandler?

Well, I think
it's safe to assume

that all of the men's apparel
in this house is mine.

Why?

Well, one of our technical
men says there's a stain.

Says it could be blood.

Now Mr. Chandler, until
we can check this out,

I don't think you ought
to leave town or anything.

Ah, yes.

(indistinct chattering)

Mr. Chandler?

You followed me?

I'm afraid I did. When I saw
your face when Taylor showed you

those shoes, I thought you
might make a break for it.

No, no, no.
You couldn't be more wrong.

After you left,
I got a lead on Hazel.

I think I know where she is.

I wouldn't question
that for a minute.

She's alive.

If you'd just give me
six hours, I'll produce her.

I give you my word.

It's out of my hands, Chandler.

The police are on
their way here now.

All I'm supposed
to do is delay you.

(typewriter keys clacking)

Where's Jones?
I've got to see him.

Yes, Mr. Turlock. Just a
second. I'll see if he's busy.

Mr. Turlock!

He's out.
He's been released.

Chandler?
How do you know?

It was on the news.
I heard it on the car radio.

Betty, get me Lieutenant Taylor.

Right.

They arrest him one day
and release him the next.

For murder?
How can that be?

Well, that's what
we're going to find out.

But he murdered my sister,

and now he's out
walking in the streets.

What kind of a police
department do we have?

Mr. Turlock,
just settle down.

Barnaby,
Lieutenant Taylor on line two.

Joe?

Yeah, Barnaby.

Yeah,
the information is correct.

His lawyer got him writted out
in his custody.

Five days. We've either got
to charge him or kick him loose.

Well, the blood
on Chandler's shoes

matched that in the trunk
of the car, didn't it?

Well, that's your connection.

Yeah, but the DA wants to see
a body, and we can't find it.

What attempt
to flee the country?

He had a ticket to New Mexico.

New Mexico?

Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Betty, get me the business
office at the phone company.

Talk to my friend there.

Ask him if they have any record
of any phone calls

between Albuquerque
and the Chandler house recently.

Right.

Mr. Jones,
what's this all about?

Denise Fraser is in New Mexico.

I'll bet you that Chandler
was on his way there

to pick her up and then
on to Canada or Brazil

or someplace out of the country.

That's the only way
it makes sense.

They're checking
with the links now.

Y-Yes?

Two recent calls to Albuquerque?

Charged to that number?

One call there.

One collect call
from Albuquerque?

And the name of the party?
I'm sorry. In Albuquerque.

Logan's Trading Post?

Outside of Albuquerque.

Thank you.

(laughing)

Yeah, this feller called me
long distance from Los Angeles.

He wanted to know if
anybody was staying

up at the old
Double Circle Ranch.

"Well, shucks, mister," I said,

"we ain't had a delivery up
there in five, maybe six years."

Place is all boarded

up, tumbled down.

Ain't nothin' up there no more.

So he said, "Well, now,
if you ain't been up there,

how do you know that somebody
ain't staying up there?"

I guess he had you there.

I reckon you're right.

So I said to this feller
in Los Angeles, I said,

"The next time the boy has a run
up that way,

I'll tell him to stop by
and have a look around."

I'll bet you'd never guess
what he saw.

A woman.

Yeah, a woman.

♪ ♪

Good afternoon, miss.

Denise Fraser?

No.

Is she around?

No.

You mean, she's gone?

No, there-there never was anyone
here by that name.

There never was?

I could have sworn that...

You mean I made this trip
from Los Angeles for nothing?

The name doesn't mean
anything to you?

Well, thank you very much.

Mrs. Chandler!

Yes?

Mrs. Chandler!

Don't you know what's happened?

Everybody thinks
you're dead and buried.

Really?

How did I die?

You were murdered...

by your husband.

You seem to know a great deal
about my affairs, Mr. Jones.

I know you left your house
to call on Denise Fraser.

After that, nothing.

Do you know who she is?

I suspect she's...

your husband's girlfriend.

She wasn't home.

At least,
she didn't answer my ring.

I don't know why.

So I decided
to go away somewhere,

think things out.

Then Alex came home
with the car.

We had an argument.

I left.

I had to find a place
Alex couldn't think of.

I remembered the ranch.

So you bought an airplane ticket
under a different name?

Yes, my first husband's name.

And I came here.

And I've been here ever since.

Did Alex kill Denise Fraser?

There were bloodstains
in the trunk of your car

and other evidence.

There must have been
a body there.

I suppose she was...

very young and beautiful.

Well, yes.

I-I never saw her,
but, uh, I have her picture.

Please.

She is lovely.

They look so nice
in those uniforms.

That's how he met her.

Alex is a pilot.

He was?

What is it, Mr. Jones?

I was just thinking.

If I wanted to get rid
of something like a body...

and I could fly an airplane...

I'd just fly out
about 100 miles,

out into the Pacific,
and forget about it.

Horrible.

If the police
had that airplane...

there's always
a certain amount of evidence.

They could tie it up
with the trunk of your car

and Alex's shoes.

Mr. Chandler
own his own plane?

No.

No, that would make it too easy.

(crickets chirping)

(phone ringing)

(sighs, ringing continues)

Hello? Hello?

Hazel?

Hazel, where are you?

Alex, I just saw a newspaper

for the first time
in three weeks.

What's this nonsense
that I'm missing?

Oh, it... well, it's
it's-it's-it's just a mistake.

Where are you?

New Mexico.
Yes, I thought so.

Yes.

Now-Now-Now, darling, look it,

why don't you just get
right back here home

where we can straighten
everything out?

Don't worry about it, Alex.

I'll just call the Los Angeles
Police and tell them.

No. No, no. Darling...

I think we really should
talk it over first.

There's been much too much
notoriety about this, and I...

Look, why don't we
meet someplace?

Um, no, I can't, Alex.

I, um...

I-I sprained my ankle,
walking along the canyon.

Oh, well, darling,

now, you shouldn't have done
a thing like that.

I mean, you might have fallen
all the way to the bottom.

You-You could have
had a serious injury.

You're all alone.

Nobody knows you're there,

or you might not have been
discovered for weeks.

No. No, no, no. I'll tell you...

You-You-You just stay there and
I'll be right down to get you.

No, I won't hear of it.

I-I-I want you to stay there.

You get some sleep.

I'm flying down immediately

and I'll be there
by the crack of dawn.

Yes. Oh, and, darling?

I do love you very much.

(rain pattering)

Good evening,
Mr. Chandler.

Following me again?

Afraid so, but, uh,
it's been very profitable.

You're a pilot.

What about it?

Well, you must see
that answers a big question...

Uh, where you hid the body.

Out to sea, and nobody
will ever find it.

Mr. Jones, I'm going
to tell you this one more time.

I did not murder my wife.

She is not dead,

and by tomorrow,
I'll be able to prove that.

Oh, I'm not talking
about your wife.

I know she's alive.

You murdered Denise Fraser.

Jones...

I've taken just about all
I'm going to out of you.

You know there's bound
to be traces

of blood and skin
and clothes in there,

just the same
as in the car trunk.

And blood is very hard

to wash out completely,
Mr. Chandler.

I might say, uh,
almost impossible.

If this is the plane you used
to dispose of Denise...

It isn't.

If it isn't, I've blown
the whole case against you.

But it is the one,
isn't it, Mr. Chandler?

I guess that's
as good an answer as anything.

Get in the plane.

For a ride out to sea?

No, no. This time I'm taking
another direction...

Over mountainous terrain.

But they won't be able
to find you. Get in.

You don't think I'm fool enough

to confront a murderer at night,
in a dark hangar, alone,

do you?

(chuckles)
Cops?

Yep.

♪ ♪

Well, it looks like
they didn't make it.

I called them.

You're lying.

Get in the plane.

(light switch clicks)

(light switch clicks)

You see?

All right, freeze, Chandler.

Slide it over.

(siren wailing)

(tires squeal)

Come on, Mrs. Chandler.
We'll take you home now.

(birds chirping)

Over here, Mr. Jones.

They were just
covered with aphids.

But I think they're
all right now.

Are you all right?

No. Not yet.

But I'm getting there.

Well...

it is so nice to see
you again, Mr. Jones.

I thought we might have
lunch in the garden.

Yes, it's too nice a day
to stay inside.

Well, come along, then.

Mr. Jones.

Ah, hello,
Mr. Turlock.

And the top of the morning
to you, Mrs. Durant.

Lunch is served.

Well, can't win them all.

(chuckling)

Shall we?

(theme music playing)