All language subtitles for Mannix S02E17 The Girl Who Came in with the Tide.DVDRip.NonHI.cc.en

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Female, white, about 21.

She was conscious when
she went into the water.

Probably suicide.

Ah, she's not the girl
I'm looking for, Adam.

About the right age.

Well, that's why I called you.

Thought she might be when
they brought her in this morning.

Sorry to drag you downtown.

Adam... Hmm?

Let me look at that girl again.

I thought you said
she wasn't the one

you were hired to find.

She's not, but, uh... that face,

I've seen it before.

Open it up again, Don.

You know her?

Carol Wilson.

Girl about town.

The best places, the best men.

A couple of months ago,
she dropped out of circulation.

She didn't belong to
just anybody anymore.

She belonged to
one man... Alec Ryan.

The swinging attorney.

Interesting, huh?

What's that you always
heard about chickens?

They, uh, they do
come home, don't they?

Oh, I read you, Joe.

Listen, you forget about it.

I don't care if Alec Ryan
did bum rap you once

and get your license
suspended for six months.

A man who has contempt
for the law sooner or later

has got to break it.

So far, no law's been broken,

by Alec Ryan or anybody else.

There's a girl who walked
into the water, period.

Yeah, that's your
story, Sergeant.

I say she was pushed.

Where?

Is that in Beverly?

Thanks. I'll try there.

Any lead on Ryan?

The great jet-set mouthpiece

isn't coming into
his office these days.

The house in Palm
Springs is buttoned up tight.

No one there but a caretaker,

and the pad in
Malibu is being rented

by a vacationing evangelist.

Well, we'll keep at it.

If you do get a lead, call me.

I'll be at the LAPD
with Sergeant Tobias.

Oh, thanks.

Uh, who's the
client in this one?

Just so I'll know who to bill.

There's no client, Peggy.

Purely a labor of love.

Uh, do you mind
if I say something?

You're acting a little uptight.

Yeah, well, it's an
uptight world, Peggy.

The Carol Wilson autopsy report.

Sorry, Joe. No marks on her.

She wasn't sauced.

She was drowned and in saltwater

about 11:00 last night.

Hey, Tom, what about this
stuff under her fingernails?

Well, that's a variety of algae.

So she was struggling
when she was in the water.

Must have been
grabbing for something.

Well, people can throw
themselves in the water

and change their minds
in midair, you know that.

Yeah, but the girl
who was pushed in

can also put up a fight.

I'll get it.

Pathology lab.

Oh, hi, Peggy.

Yeah, he's here.

Yeah, Peggy?

Yeah, good, good.
Yeah, thanks, Peg.

Alec Ryan.

He's on his boat at the marina.

Thanks for everything.

Joe, listen, I know you'd love

to bust Alec Ryan
on a murder one.

Okay, you don't like him.

I don't like him, and half
the country doesn't like him,

but there's no scientific
evidence of violence

or foul play in Carol
Wilson's death.

I think he murdered her.

There is no murder, Joe!

Is that what that lab full
of instruments tell you?

Yeah, instruments
with no personal grudge

against Alec Ryan
or anyone else.

Well, Adam, you stick
to your instruments.

Now me, I don't
fly by instruments.

I'm like those old
barnstorming pilots

who flew by the
seat of their pants.

They're all dead, Joe.

The seat of their
pants flew them right

into the side of a mountain.

What a way to go.

♪ ♪

Excuse me, miss...

Is Mr. Ryan around?

Alec, someone to see you.

Mona, go practice your crawl.

She practically
lives in the water.

Sometimes I think she has gills.

How have you been, Mannix?

Getting by.

I hear that you've gone back

to pursuing your
dreary little profession.

A lot drearier when you're
barred from pursuing.

We all stub a toe occasionally.

Or we're tripped.

Well, I hope you
don't hold a grudge.

You were doing your
thing, I was doing mine.

Only you did yours a
little harder and dirtier.

Well, I assume you're
snooping around

on behalf of some client?

Something like that.

You claiming privilege or
will you tell me who it is?

Her name is Carol Wilson.

Know her?

At one time we were quite close.

Why? Is she in trouble?

Not now.

She's dead.

Well, I'm sorry to hear that.

Would you like something?

Some coffee?

No, thanks.

Her body was washed
up on shore this morning.

She wasn't dressed for swimming.

The police figure maybe suicide.

Maybe?

How well did you know her?

Well, I suppose you'd
find out sooner or later.

She got quite a bit of
sun out here last summer.

Got a certain amount
of moonlight, too.

And after the summer?

I broke rule number one
of the yachtsman's code:

Never introduce your girl
to a man with a bigger boat.

When was that?

Six, eight weeks ago.

August. When in August?

Would you believe
it? I didn't write it down.

And you haven't seen her since?

No.

I don't know what else
I can tell you about her.

She was a beautiful girl.

Unfortunately, that
was also her profession:

beautiful girl.

Who, uh, is the man who has

the bigger boat?

A client.

You claiming
privilege, counselor?

It hardly falls under the
attorney-client relationship.

It was the tycoon's
tycoon, Warren Nichols.

You still his lawyer?

Mm-hmm.

Warren Nichols pays
me an annual retainer

in excess of $100,000.

Perhaps that doesn't give
him the right to steal my girl,

but it makes it an
awful lot easier to take.

Last night, I don't
suppose you left your boat?

I had no reason to.

Go ahead, ask her.

Call her over.

She can make it in ten seconds.

She's a fish.

My name is Mannix.

I'm a private detective.

It's important I
speak to Mr. Nichols.

Mr. Nichols is not at home.

You know where
he can be reached?

No. Please go away now.

You're upsetting the dogs.

Sorry.

And it's important that
the new cam be installed...

You're Mr. Mannix,
as it says outside.

Yes.

I'm Brett Nichols.

You wouldn't by any chance
be Mrs. Warren Nichols?

That's right.

I know your dogs.

Oh, uh, this is my
secretary Peggy Fair.

How do you do?

I think you can type up that
letter now, if you want, Peggy.

I guess I want.

Please, sit down.

Interesting, isn't it,

that we should have
so much in common.

We have?

Well, you've been trying
to reach my husband,

and I'm here for
the same reason.

You mean your
husband is missing?

I think so.

You don't know?

Well, he could know
where he is, I don't.

I haven't heard from
him in three days

and that's a new record.

A new record?

What was the old?

Is that important?

Is it important
enough not to tell me?

Well, it might help if I
knew your first name.

Mrs. Nichols...

what has my first name
got to do with anything?

Well, I mean, if we're
going to talk about

anything so personal
as my marriage,

we, uh... we
shouldn't be so formal.

It's Joe.

Well, Joe,

Warren and I have been
married ten years, it's...

Well, and for the
last nine years,

we've been
playing a little game.

You know, he's
away a lot of the time,

but he calls every night

and tells me where he
is and what he's doing,

and I pretend to believe him.

But you know he's lying.

Of course.

And he knows I know.

But hat's the way
the game's played.

You must be worried about him,
otherwise you wouldn't be here.

Well, not exactly worried.

Curious.

This time he's been
away three days

and he hasn't once
phoned in his nightly lie.

I'd just like to
know the reason.

What's funny?

You.

Oh, not funny, uh... unusual.

What's usual?

Well, when a woman
comes in to tell me

her man hasn't been home,

she usually acts
pretty hysterical.

Well, I'm sorry I don't
fit the usual pattern, Joe.

Oh, don't be sorry.

The one who
carried on the loudest

turned out to have put her
husband in the incinerator.

You're wasting your time, Joe.

Warren didn't keep anything here

but his out-of-season clothes
and this third-best razor.

Well, there've got to be
business records some place.

Not here.

Well, where's his office?

Haven't you ever heard the
legend of Warren Nichols,

the billionaire hermit? Hm?

No office.

I don't buy legends.

It's true.

And there's never
anything in his pockets, Joe.

I've looked.

What happens if
some of the troops

want to get in
touch with the man?

Suppose they have to
have an answer real fast

or say drop a couple
of million dollars?

They talk to the man's attorney.

Alec Ryan.

What's this?

My picture.

Warren's idea of my picture.

A sentimental man, no?

It's my application for
a job as his secretary.

It's a simple letter
written by a simple girl

just out of secretarial school.

That's how we met.

I came for an interview,

and he gave me
some letters to type.

It was about 7:00
before I finished,

so he asked if I
could stay overnight.

He said he might
have some more letters.

I said I couldn't
possibly do that.

And he asked if it would make
a difference if we were married.

I said yes.

So the man married you.

We flew to Yuma that night.

Romantic, isn't it?

Mm.

You didn't really know him.

I knew he was good-
looking and charming

with several hundred
million dollars.

At those prices, I figured

whatever was
wrong, I could change.

And I did.

I changed.

A lot.

Would you like a drink?

Or don't you drink on the job?

My job is being
Mrs. Warren Nichols,

and drinking is permitted.

Almost compulsory.

Did you know about your
husband and Carol Wilson?

And the one before her
and the one before her...

Or should I go on?

Hello.

Yes, this is Mrs.
Warren Nichols.

Yes, put him on.

It's the police.
Sergeant Tobias.

Yes?

Thank you, Sergeant.

Yes, right away.

You might be interested...

They found Warren.

You all right?

Don't mind me.

I cry at parades.

Look, why don't you
wait out in the car?

I want to talk to Sergeant
Tobias for a minute, huh?

Thanks.

How did you find him, Adam?

Service station down the hill.

Nichols had his car picked
up for servicing on Monday.

He wanted it back in a hurry.

Been trying to get
somebody up here

to answer the
phone for three days,

and finally reported it.

Kind of washes up your theory,
doesn't it, Joe? Yeah? How?

Well, you've been leaning
kind of hard on Alec Ryan.

Now it's a whole new ball game.

Tell me.

Nichols was killed by
a small caliber weapon,

fired at close range.

No sign of struggle, no
forced entry into the house.

Conclusion:

he was killed by
somebody he knew.

Evidence?

Compact.

Initials C.W., as
in Carol Wilson.

One hair, color red.

Found on a pillow
and probably hers.

Oh, big deal.

Does that put her
here, in the house,

at the time it happened?

It's going to.

. A hair removed from Carol
Wilson's head after she drowned.

A hair found in Nichols' lodge.

All right. It's her hair.

Now show me where it
says Wednesday night.

Show him, Ellie.

This hair,

taken from Carol
Wilson, is dark at the root.

So she dyed her hair.

No, she used henna.

There's a difference?

About ten dollars.

If you were married,
you'd know that.

Henna doesn't
penetrate the hair.

It just coats the surface.

It fades, and then
has to be renewed.

This henna is quite fresh.

So far, I'm with you.

Her body was found
Thursday morning.

She'd been dead about ten hours.

From those facts, plus
the freshness of the henna,

we know she that had a henna
treatment Wednesday afternoon.

I'm interested in
Wednesday night.

Now this was the hair found in

Warren Nichols' happy hideaway.

It couldn't have been put
there before late Wednesday

because Carol only added

the henna Wednesday afternoon.

And it couldn't have been put
there after Wednesday night,

because she died
Wednesday night.

In other words, she was there

Wednesday night.

Thanks, Ellie.

Why fight it, Joe?

It's classic.

Lovers' quarrel.

Girl shoots boy.

Finds out she can't
get away with it,

throws herself
right in the ocean.

That's neat.

Neat. Pink ribbons.

I happen to be a square
about these things, Adam.

I don't get that warm,
comfy feeling in here

unless I've got
the gun in my hand.

Now where's the gun, Adam?

I'd say she had it with
her when she drowned.

Now that's beautiful, and
you won't be able to find it

unless you drag the
whole Pacific Ocean.

Is that your cop-out?

No, no cop-out, Joe.

Tom, Mannix doesn't think

we're pushing hard
enough for the gun.

That so?

What do you got?

According to the Coast Guard,

the current Wednesday
night ran west,

maximum speed four knots.

Now, the body was found here.

Now, she first entered the water

somewhere inside
this quarter circle.

That's a big leap forward.

Don't let him bug
you, Tom, go on.

You remember the algae
we found under her nails?

Well, I checked with the
people down at Scripps,

and it turns out to be a
parasitic marine growth.

Meaning what?

It grows on things.

Oh, thanks.

What sort of things?

Wood.

Generally wood.

Old piers, pilings...
sunken boats.

Driftwood.

Now, there aren't any
wrecked boats in here.

And if you're drowning,
you don't claw at driftwood.

You grab at it.

So we settle for piers, pilings.

Right here.

Paradise Cove.

Hey, Sarge!

What do you got, Benjie?

This one's got
some striations on it.

Looks like someone's
been grabbing.

Scrape off some samples.

Shelley, bring over the bucket.

Benjie, take a look down below.

".22 caliber automatic
target pistol, serial number

"25233.

Registered to Alec
Ryan, attorney."

Well, Mr. Ryan?

Are you accusing
me of something?

I'm saying ballistics says

a bullet from your gun
killed Warren Nichols.

I've already
discussed the matter

in some detail with the police.

In the interests of my
client, Mrs. Warren Nichols,

would you mind
discussing it with me?

Anything to oblige Brett.

I'm afraid I can't
help very much.

As I told Sergeant Tobias,

the gun was stolen
some few months ago.

I reported it to the
police at the time.

You can check the date.

I did.

"Stolen August 4th."

No, that's when I
discovered it was gone.

I remember using it
around July the 10th

and then, August the 4th,

when I wanted to take a little
target practice, it was gone.

In other words, the gun was
stolen between those dates.

That seems fairly safe.

Of course, I'm no detective.

And Carol Wilson left
you between those dates.

Didn't it occur to you

that she might
have taken the gun?

I was almost certain she had.

It was a valuable gun. I
assumed she'd stolen it.

That's funny.

You reported the theft
as "by persons unknown."

Well, I don't know how
things are in your set, Mannix,

but in mine, if a friend,
especially a lady, leaves you,

taking with her a book
she happened to be reading,

or even part of the silverware,

it is not a matter
for the police.

This happened to be a gun.

Don't teach me the law.

What about yesterday...
Why didn't you tell me then

that she had taken it?

It couldn't have
ruined her good name.

She was dead.

I'm trying to think how
it would have gone.

You came on my boat to
tell me Carol was drowned.

What did you want me to say?

"Funny, her drowning.
She could have shot herself.

She had my gun."

Or was I supposed to say,

"If she's dead, she won't
be needing my gun anymore.

Can I have it back?"

Come off it, Mannix.

I had your license lifted once.

That doesn't make me a murderer.

You dislike me, but it
doesn't give you the right

to put me in a gas chamber for
something I didn't do. Didn't you?

This time, Mannix, if I
get your license lifted,

it'll be for good.

Why?

Why did she steal that gun?

She was leaving Alec Ryan
to take up with Warren Nichols.

But she swiped Ryan's gun. Why?

So if she ever
wanted to kill Nichols,

she'd have a weapon handy?

I don't believe it.

Drink your coffee.

That's another thing.

Where was the champagne?

Champagne?

Yeah, did you ever see
a picture of Alec Ryan

without a glass of
champagne in his hand?

Parties, race track,

fancy breakfasts on his
boat; always champagne.

Remember what they called him

in that magazine feature
last year... "Champagne Alec."

You know what he was drinking
on the boat both times I saw him?

What?

Coffee.

Look, why don't you just go
right down to the grand jury.

I mean, you've
got an airtight case.

You caught him red-handed
drinking a cup of coffee.

You know what I think?

I think Ryan knew
Carol Wilson was dead,

and knew somebody'd be
out there to question him,

so he wanted to be sober.

As long as Mona baby says

Ryan never left that
boat Wednesday night,

that lets him
completely off the hook.

So why don't you just forget it?

No.

No, something is missing.

It just feels wrong.

Look, I'll see you later, huh?

Hey, what about your coffee?

Oh, uh, keep it
for the grand jury.

When I've been a
widow long enough, Joe,

will you dance with me?

A pleasure.

I haven't danced in eight years.

How about some fresh air?

I love fresh air...

as long as it has
some bourbon in it.

Not exactly society's favorite

watering place, is it?

Well, it's no country club.

That's why I like it here.

No one knows me here.

They don't say,
"Brett, come join us.

We'll talk."

Meaning, "Don't
drink so much, Brett."

Or, "Can we give
you a lift home, Brett?"

Meaning, "You're too
smashed to navigate."

Or, "Don't you think
you've had enough, Brett?"

Meaning, "You've had enough."

I've had enough.

You don't think Carol Wilson
killed my husband, do you?

All the evidence points to
it, but can't figure a motive.

Maybe Warren was
throwing her out.

He liked variety.

Girls like that don't kill
men who throw them out.

They find other men.

You were about to say something?

What about, uh...

what about you and other men?

Are you investigating
a murder, sir,

or trying to get
your face slapped?

Well, uh... another
man, in love with you...

would've had a motive.

Sorry.

No other men.

I was the faithful collie.

Even when I found out
I was never really going

to have Warren, I...

he was still all I wanted.

Well, that brings us
to business associates.

Oh, sure. Any of them.

Any of them what?

Would have been
delighted to kill him.

To do business with
Warren was to hate him.

Did Alec Ryan hate him?

Probably.

Warren never took me
into his confidences...

not even in business matters.

You know what
I've been thinking?

I was wondering what
would've happened

ten years ago, if you'd
advertised for a secretary.

But... it's too late now.

Time... Time for another drink.

Join me?

No, thanks.

I've got to get back to work.

You mean you
haven't been working?

Not entirely.

No more questions?

Not now.

Well, I'll be here
tomorrow night,

and you can shine a
bright light in my eyes

and shout at me if you like.

Good night.

I must say you're pretty good.

It keeps me in shape.

For what? The Olympics.

A lawyer friend of mine told
me I don't have to talk to you.

It's about Wednesday night.

I thought Alec
told you about that.

Are you sure you spent all
of Wednesday on his boat?

Well, it's not the kind
of thing a girl forgets.

Is it possible he
could have left the boat

for a few hours maybe,
without your knowing?

Frankly, I don't see how.

And you'd say the
same thing under oath?

Well, I wouldn't exactly
want the world to know,

but, yes, I would.

You know, Mona, they
don't have swimming pools

at women's prisons.

Now, if you're lying, you could
miss the next two Olympics.

Maybe three.

You'd better give
it some thought.

That's five years for perjury.

Another five years
for accessory to...

To what, Mannix?

Get something on, Mona.
We're due at the Langs'.

See you at the Olympics.

Let me put it this way, Mannix:

You've threatened me.

You've threatened my girl.

But that's it. The end.

Finish.

Well, he's right, Joe.
You've been asking for it.

You won't use the radar.

You won't look
at the instruments.

Man, the seat of your pants

is flying you right
into the mountain.

I know Ryan's girl is lying!

No, you don't know!

You hate Ryan, so he's guilty.

But the girl's his alibi,
so she must be lying!

You don't know!

Okay. I feel!

You wish!

Oh, you think
that's what it is, huh?

You think I'm trying to
pin a murder rap on Ryan

because he sticks in my craw?

I know you better than that.

All right, what do you think?

I think Carol Wilson
killed Warren Nichols,

jumped into the water.

But say I'm wrong.

Say I buy the idea
of a double murder

and a killer on the
loose... Okay, okay.

I'm the cop on the job.

I go looking for suspects.

But Joe, I don't go looking
for suspect number two

or five or ten.

I go right to
suspect number one.

Spell it out, do you mind?

You read the papers?

Yeah.

How's this for a headline?

"Wife kills husband
and other woman."

Brett?

Brett?

Mrs. Warren Nichols!

Have you questioned her, Joe?

Wife, husband, other woman.

Two people are dead.

Now, I still think the
other woman did it,

but if you don't buy that,
isn't the wife next in line?

Not this time.

Why not? She
inherits all his money.

Jealousy, greed, they've
driven other people to murder.

Not Brett Nichols.

Why? Because she has nice
eyes, good legs, a soft, husky voice?

I mean, she smiles, you smile.

All right, Adam, knock it off!

Knock it off.

Go ahead, say it.

Have you questioned her?

Of course! I've talked to her...

Not talked, questioned.

Did you ask her where
she was Wednesday night?

Did you tell her the
penalty for perjury?

Did you talk to her
like a detective?

Mrs. Nichols? Mrs. Nichols?

A Mr. Mannix to see you.

Mrs. Nichols?

Mrs. Nichols?

Mr. Mannix!

This is Joe Mannix, I'm
at 2020 El Cerrito Drive.

Send out an emergency unit.

Stomach pump, pulmotor.

Attempted suicide.

Dear Joe: You would've
found out anyway.

You wouldn't have wanted to
ask me the terrible questions,

and this will save
you the trouble.

I guess I'm not as
hardboiled as I once thought

or as you must've
thought... till now.

I killed them both.

I know this doesn't
square my account,

but it makes things tidier.

I'm sorry.

Don't frame this letter. Brett.

Doctor... According
to the books,

anyone who's
taken that many pills

has already been
dead for some time.

But she's still alive.

Is there any chance of her
regaining consciousness soon?

I wouldn't count on anything.

But if we can squeak past the
next eight hours, she's home.

But don't count on it, huh?

Well, how is she?

Not good.

That's hard to believe.

I spent a couple of hours
with her late this afternoon.

The maid told me.

We had a lot to talk about.

The estate, the technicalities
of moving it through probate.

But it was heavy going.

She was very shaken
up by Warren's death.

Knowing how he treated her,

that must seem pretty
far out, but there it is.

Anyway, just before leaving her,

I told her to take a pill
and get some sleep.

What I was concerned about

was that she might
decide to go for a drive.

And needless to say, by that
time, she was thoroughly sauced.

Needless to say.

Joe. Adam.

I'm sorry, Joe.

You warned me.

Right into the side
of the mountain.

Have you questioned her?

Have you talked to
her like a detective?

What about those tests?

Well, no surprises.

Stomach samples
and blood both show

a high reading of alcohol
and barbituric acid.

No surprises.

Just what any clean-living cop

would expect of a Brett Nichols.

I'm not judging the lady, Joe.

You asked me about the tests.

I'm sorry, Adam.

It's... it's just
that I can't buy it.

Confession, two murders...

She did take an
overdose of sleeping pills.

And I seriously doubt that even
our great courtroom spellbinder,

Mr. Alec Ryan, could
persuade her to take her own life.

Well, then, he tricked her.

How, Joe?

I talked to her doctor.

Knowing her
history as a drinker,

he made it very clear to
her just how dangerous it was

to mix pills and liquor,
and to his knowledge,

she had never overdosed.

Is this the bottle her
prescription was in?

Yeah.

"Not to be refilled
before February 20."

Well, that's tomorrow.

At last, something we agree on.

Come on, now... you're
missing the point, Adam.

Listen, "Direction: one
tablet at bedtime for sleep."

You know how it is, Joe.

Some people never
believe in directions.

If Brett Nichols took
one tablet every night

and this prescription
ran out tomorrow,

then she couldn't have
had over two pills to take.

How do you know
she didn't hoard them?

Oh, sure, she always knew she
wanted to take her life one day.

Come on now, Adam,
this is attempted murder!

Joe, how can it be?

Now, look, let's say that a
good and sympathetic friend

like the family lawyer
suggests she takes a pill.

Just so old Brett can
unwind and go to sleep.

In combination with the
amount of alcohol she'd ingested,

she'd be flat-out
asleep in minutes.

Right. But not dead,
not in danger of dying.

Right.

So she wouldn't feel the needle

he used to inject the lethal
dose of barbiturate, would she?

Joe, the examining physician
didn't find any puncture marks.

Did he shave her head?

Check under fingernails?

All right. We'll look.

Why would Ryan want to kill her?

To clear himself of the first
two murders, for openers.

He's never been
charged with them.

And Ryan's enough of a lawyer

to know that he
probably never could be.

Well, he's also enough
of a lawyer to know

that if Brett Nichols lives
to protest his accounting

of her husband's estate
to the probate court,

his motive for killing Warren
Nichols will be out in the open.

So your guess is, Ryan
killed Warren Nichols

because Nichols
caught him stealing?

There's no guesswork about it.

You don't have any proof.

You don't have one
shred of evidence.

What do you call it?

Navigation, Adam...
Seat-of-the-pants navigation.

Now, if Brett Nichols dies,
I want the man who did it.

Mannix.

Won't you come in.

You're just in
time for breakfast.

A glass of champagne?

Some coffee?

Mona wins the blue ribbon
when it comes to boiling water.

Thanks. I'll just pass.

Something wrong?

Brett Nichols...
About an hour ago...

She never regained
consciousness.

Oh, that's too bad.

Well, probably just as
well, all things considered.

Yeah.

Oh, the hospital would like to
check out some facts with you.

Next of kin, previous illnesses,

things like that.

We were just about to shove off.

Do you suppose I
could phone it in?

I don't see why not.

You know, I think I'll change
my mind about that coffee,

if it's not too much trouble?

I'll be right back.

Phone's at the head of the pier.

I guess I owe you an apology.

I guess you do.

You know, now that things have
worked out the way they have,

I'm glad you were
telling the truth.

Cream? Sugar?

Because if you weren't
telling the truth, Mona...

Well, look, let's just
kind of play a game...

Let's suppose.

Now suppose Alec
Ryan wasn't with you

every beautiful minute
of Wednesday night,

that he was with Warren Nichols,

that he killed Nichols,

and that Carol Wilson
walked in on him

when he was tidying things up,

so he bribed her with the
only thing she understood...

An annuity.

They then went to the
pier to get rid of the gun,

and all of a sudden, she
found herself in the water,

clawing for her life.

Now, I'd say that annuity
had a pretty quick pay-off.

And let's suppose that Alec
Ryan figured he was safe,

because nobody knew,

but Brett Nichols
figured it out,

so he had to kill her, too.

Of course nothing like
that ever happened,

but if it had,

you'd be the only person
in the world who knew...

little Mona.

You know where that
would leave you, Mona?

One day you'd be
heading out to sea,

just you and the man
who killed Nichols

and then killed two other
people to cover up the crime.

You'd be the only person

who could pin all
three crimes on him.

Did you say something?

Oh, I'm sure you'd be
safe for a while, I guess.

He wouldn't be in a hurry.

But one sunny day, you'd be
on a boat heading out to sea,

miles from anywhere...

Just you, the boat, a lot
of water, and Alec Ryan.

And then maybe just Alec Ryan.

A tragic accident at
sea. No witnesses.

Of course, the police
might have their suspicions,

but what can they prove?

People fall off of
boats all the time.

It's up to you, Mona.

You going to
take that boat trip?

Mannix... you lied to me.

She's still alive.

Yeah, I know.

If she pulls through,

she'd be the second
witness against you.

Where were you?

What are you talking about?

That night, Wednesday,

the night I said I was with you.

♪ ♪

Only for a minute now.

I'm against the whole
idea, but she insisted.

And when she
insists... Yeah, I know.

Joe... Right here.

I'm sorry I caused
you so much...

inconvenience.

Always glad to be
of service to a client.

Just how far does
the Mannix service go?

Try me.

Could you kiss a
client good night?

I call that service.

Joe...

are you absolutely sure
you couldn't use a secretary?