Original subtitles

Barnaby Jones, a Quinn Martin production, starring Buddy Epson.

Also starring Lee Merriweather, Mark Schera, with

guest stars David Hedison, Joshua Bryant,

John McLean, Marla Adams.

Tonight's episode.

The Deadly Charade.

or if you hadn't caused me a perfectly good hairdo horsing around on that boat.

Sandra, I plead innocent.

That wave hit the boat when my back was turned. Is that right, Rob? Oh, sure,

Paul. That was a wave and not your three left feet that caused our boat to sink.

There were no waves. We all came far tonight.

Rob, you want one?

Thanks,

Betty.

one of these back to Sandra. Oh, let me. Maybe I can help her with her hair.

Okay.

Your cousin Sandra is playing a sly little old matchmaker, isn't she?

Having Betty and you as houseguests at the same time.

Just a very happy coincidence.

Sandy, I've got your drink out here.

Mmm, thanks.

Oh, that's nice.

I'm admiring your oriental figurine. Is it new?

always find something rare for me in that antique shop of his whenever he

for a visit. It's called Goddess of Sleep.

Oh, I hope it works because nothing I've been taking does.

You having trouble with Harry still?

Mm -hmm.

No chance of a reconciliation?

No.

I think this time divorce is the only solution.

Oh, honey, I'm sorry.

Paul even drove up to the cabin this morning to try and patch things up and

Harry's just about to we lost the place.

Oh Boy, what am I gonna do about this mop?

Oh, hey, don't use their hot rollers to take too long. Use your blow -dryer

Okay, I'll help you say it later. Would you? Yeah, thanks Betty. Hurry they're

waiting for you. All right Hi,

I think I'll take a quick shower and freshen up a bit myself

How's Sandra doing?

She'll be joining us shortly. Good.

And then the wind came up and we turned downwind.

Betty?

Out there.

Betty,

is she... She's dead.

Get an ambulance.

I see somebody who could use a couple hours sleep.

When did your plane get in?

An hour ago.

They gave me your message along with one from California Meridian Insurance.

Sandra Lassiter carried a big policy.

They want a report.

I know, Betty.

I know you and Sandra go back a long way.

It's so hard to believe she's gone.

I just got a sketchy report.

She was shot by a burglar who then shot Paul Nugent.

It's about all anybody has.

Paul heard something. He went into her room.

She was fighting with a man in a red ski mask.

And Paul went after him and manshot him. How's Paul?

Oh, not so bad. He was just grazed along this ribcage.

He's insisting on being released from the hospital. I said I'd...

Go down and pick him up around ten.

Yeah, why don't you go ahead?

The deputies will fill me in.

Glad you're here.

Oh, we got an excellent print, Sheriff.

Oh, good, Abrams.

Take it to the lab, huh? Yes, sir.

Barnaby!

You called out on this case?

Well, the company wanted me to make a routine investigation and report.

Well, there's nothing routine around here.

Burglary with a house full of guests milling around.

An estranged husband with a story that he's been driving around all night.

Doesn't know where.

Harry Lasseter can't account for his whereabouts? I just got back from

with him up at his cabin.

He says he was out hanging one on, to use his words.

We'll see about that.

Do you mind if I ask him a few questions?

Not at all.

Keep in touch, partner. Right.

Don't you think you should have spent at least one day in the hospital? I hate

hospitals. Anyway, they're not doing any more for me than the bandage I'm

wearing.

What about the burglar?

Have the police come up with any leads yet?

No, no, not yet. Are you sure you should be walking around like this? Yeah, my

side's a little stiff, but the doctor says moving around is the best thing I

do for it. Let me get this for you.

Here you go. Easy.

Thanks.

How's Harry taking it all?

I don't know. Up until I left the house, he was nowhere to be found.

Paul.

Poor Harry.

First, the loss of their two children in that awful auto accident.

No, Sandra.

I know.

Harry wasn't at his cabin?

No, no.

The sheriff had a deputy out there since last night waiting for him, but he

never showed up.

That's funny. I was with him for about an hour yesterday morning.

He was deep inside an article he was writing. He swore he wasn't going to

his cabin until he met that magazine deadline.

Well, maybe he finished it.

Or...

Maybe Harry changed his mind.

I think we met in passing earlier this year at the Park Gun Club, Mr. Jones.

I bet he was with you.

Yes, I think you were qualifying for the pistol team.

I became a fan of yours reading your column in the sports quarterly.

A new fan I can always use.

You understand, Mr. Lasseter, that although I turn in my reports to the

insurance company, they could wind up in any court record.

In other words, watch what I say to you. I'm three steps ahead, Mr. Jones.

The sheriff did more than hint that my wife had wealth and a divorce might be

leaving me with financial problems.

Did the sheriff say anything about the burglary, that it was a very clumsy job,

making it appear the burglar was more interested in murder than robbery?

I don't buy it. My wife had no enemies. That includes me.

I miss her.

Almost as much as I miss our kids.

It was after their death five years ago that things started to get sour between

us.

Something about my shoe interest you, Jones? I think you'll find a duplicate

this tread in the flower garden outside of the bedroom at the beach house.

I used to live there, remember?

Sheriff Coyle says you're having some trouble accounting for your time last

night. Maybe I feel I don't have to account for my time.

If so happens, I finished my article early, about six, and went for a drive.

You remember where you drove?

I'd been drinking all day while I was writing. I was half stoned, somewhere up

the coast.

The critical time would be 8 .30. That's when your wife was shot.

I was sleeping it off on a beach by then.

I can't prove it, but the sheriff will have to live with it. You happen to

recall which beach?

Uh, yeah, of course.

It was just above Dunes Point.

Harry, listen, I'm not due to return home for a few more days, and maybe I

should get a room at a hotel.

Don't be silly, Paul. Stay as long as you want.

I'll get it.

Oh, hi, I'm Barnaby Jones. Is Mr. Lasseter home? Oh, yes, he's right

Thank you. I'm Paul Nugent.

Oh, how are your ribs?

Much better, thanks. Good.

Back so soon, Mr. Jones?

I came by to give you a chance to correct your story, that you were

the beach above Dune Point, or were you actually wearing scuba gear at the time?

Ah, I forgot to tie it.

All right, I'm a lousy liar.

I was with a girl last night.

Stupid of me lying.

I was ashamed, I guess, hearing Sandra was dead.

Can this girl establish her exact whereabouts at 8 .30?

It was at the Blue Surf Motel.

Signed in about 7 .30, using the name Smith.

What's the girl's name and where does she live?

I only know her first name.

Shelly. I never saw her before. Never expected to see her again.

I am wondering if you are aware, Mr. Lassiter, that first of all with your

and then your general vagueness, you're creating a difficulty for yourself.

Difficulty?

Oh, the insurance.

I keep forgetting that your company will save a million dollars if I'm guilty of

my wife's murder.

Come on, Harry.

I'm sure no one's accusing you of anything.

Where did you meet the girl? I don't know. I was pretty wiped out from

I remember hitting some of the South Beach bars and then meeting her in one.

Tall, blonde, good build.

Do you remember the name of the bar?

One of those places where the beach kids hang out. The Beads and Sandal Punch.

Find her Jones.

She'll clear this up

Hello.

Good morning, Mr. Jones.

My associate and I checked out that motel. There's nothing much there in

favor except you did sign in at 7 .30.

However, after that, you weren't seen or heard of much.

Didn't anybody see a girl with me? Nope.

They're beginning to check out the bars along South Beach now. I was hoping that

your head would be clear. You might be able to give us some help. Yeah, I

a guitarist.

I remember throwing him some money.

How about a place called The Hangout? That do anything to you? The Hangout?

I'm not sure.

They got a guitarist. The bartender's out now. We're going to check back.

The bartender might know this, Shelly. I vaguely recall her kidding somebody

behind the bar.

There you go.

What I meant to say before is that on a busy night, you stop looking at faces.

What about a girl named Shelly? You ever heard her name mentioned in here? No.

Tall, blonde, good figure?

You just described half my customers.

How about him?

Very drunk.

Can't seem to remember much except giving a guitar player some money.

The tipper.

Charlie got a tent.

Charlie's got his strings out there.

And he left another ten when he paid his bill. To him, I noticed.

You remember something about the girl kidding with the bartender?

Uh... Hey, wait a minute. I got it now.

The girl with this guy... Now, I did think she was calling me over, but she

joking with this Alma something or other who was sitting right where you are now

and bending my ear, right?

So Alma would know the girl we're looking for?

Yeah, I guess, but I don't know where Alma lives, though.

She's a painter.

This place was a god -awful two -headed 69 thing.

Hang up.

Yeah.

Said your name was Joan?

Eddie.

Yep. Just a minute, I'm coming.

Barnaby, I just got a call from Sheriff Coyle.

He wondered if you might be able to meet him up at the Park Gun Club.

Call the sheriff back and tell him I'll meet him there within the hour.

Right -o.

If she sells any pictures, I want you to check the art places on Beach Road here

and see if they know her. Right.

I would say that outside of the pistol teams who like to measure their own

powder, very few of the shooters reload their own ammo.

Well, this bullet was used in the murder weapon, a reload.

And the boys came up from the lab this morning, and they say that this reload

equipment was used to make the cartridges in the gun that killed Sandra

Lassiter. Well, I know that Harry Lasseter does his own reloading. He's

articles about it. But what bothers me is that you would hang your hat on this

kind of evidence.

Whoever it was that killed Sandra could have stolen or borrowed a box of reloads

from anybody on the firing line.

Barnaby, I'm hanging my hat on Harry Lasseter's footprints in the garden.

On a man who has red ski masks.

A man who profits greatly from his wife's death. A man who can't account

time. and now a man who reloads his own ammunition.

Harry Lasseter is not a stupid man. If he wanted to kill his wife, you'd think

he'd have been this crude.

Barnaby, have you ever seen him drunk?

I've had him in the tank on two occasions.

You're saying that he got drunk and planned to kill his wife on the spur of

moment? What better way to account for his clumsiness?

Well, now that would do Picasso justice.

You've just made my day.

Well, you sure would be making mine if you told me your name was Alma.

Bingo. Good.

What is this, a new kind of hobby? You're seeing how many Almas you can

along the beach?

I tell you, it took me hours to find that little place you work, you know,

then when I found that, they told me you'd be here. But actually, I'm looking

for a friend of yours named Shelly.

You a PD?

No, no, no, nothing like that. I work for a private... Sorry.

I work for a private investigating agency, part -time, and I'm working my

through law school.

What kind of trouble is she in?

Well, none we know of.

Our agency would just like to talk to her.

What if she doesn't want to talk to you?

I tell you what.

Why don't you leave it up to Shelly?

Give her this, and tell her that one phone call to us is worth 20 bucks. Now,

that's for openers.

Now, I'm sure that our client would come up with a nice big check for an

interview, okay?

Tell her that you missed a spot right there.

Well, friend or foe, it's up for you to decide.

But it's worth 20 bucks and a lot more for an interview.

So, whatever.

Hey, thanks, Elma. Yeah, sure.

Hi. We have a mutual friend, Alma.

Oh, yeah.

Well, actually, a very recent friendship.

She gave you our business card.

I'm Barnaby Jones.

I was supposed to call you.

As a matter of fact, I saw Alma pass the card to you, and being a descendant of

Sherlock Holmes, I naturally deduced a few deductions.

Alma said there'd be some money in talking to you.

Oh, I wouldn't quibble about the price if you can help us.

Non -quibblers are my kind of people.

Come on in, Mr. Jones.

Well,

I never did get any merit badges for neatness. Oh, no, no. It's cozy.

Now, Shelly, I'll tell you what this is all about.

Do you remember Harry Lasseter?

Who? Well, you wouldn't know him by that name.

Smith.

At least you signed the motel register that way.

No, no, no, wait a minute. No hassles here.

All we're talking about is a divorce case.

Oh.

So that's the thing, huh? And all we want from you is an informal statement.

Now, you were with this Smith at the Blue Surf Motel on Tuesday night.

I guess you'd find out about it anyway.

And between the hours of 7 and, let's say, 9 o 'clock or so...

He was never out of your sight?

Look, we gotta get into detail.

Nice work.

Lovely, lovely.

Oh, my point in question. Was he ever out of your sight between those hours?

Right. Hey, what's all this information worth?

It's priceless.

She was carrying your business card, Barnaby.

The reason we called you down.

Maybe this is the chalet that Lasseter says he was with. How did she die in?

We found her beach mat and a handbag up on the roof.

She'd been sunbathing.

And then she came down to her apartment for something. Or so it would appear.

You sound like you think otherwise.

This proves to be the girl Lasseter was with.

My patience with him has just about run out.

Ed, why would Lasseter pick this girl who would give the lie to a story?

He'd pick a fictitious name and description and let her go at that.

Which he might be having second thoughts about.

We checked his whereabouts today.

At home.

No callers, no visitors, no proof he was there.

It's powerful, Mr. Lasseter.

Hey.

That is not cheap costume jewelry.

No, it surely isn't.

Then explain it.

In your own words. I can't explain it. Whoever burglarized the house knew this

girl, Shelley, and gave her the ring.

Mr. Lasseter, in view of no credible explanation by you of what is proving to

far too many coincidences, I'm placing you under arrest.

John Cutton, you will be charged with suspected murder.

Jones, will you call my lawyer? Yes, of course.

Harry?

Barnaby?

Harry's just been arrested for the murder of Sandra.

I don't believe that.

There's a case against him?

Well, so far it's purely circumstantial, but if it ever comes to trial, I think

that your testimony might help him.

My testimony?

Well, you were closest to the intruder. You struggled with him. Did you notice

any smell of alcohol or liquor on him?

Mr. Jones, the only thing I remember from that night is a blur of confusion.

Well, you didn't mention it in your statement to the sheriff. However, the

manager of the motel said that he noticed a strong smell of liquor.

Well, I've got to get on with some things. Do you need me, Barnaby?

I'm going to see Jedediah and then talk to some people. I'll check you later.

You know...

When I first came here, this home struck me as being close to perfect.

A few miles from the beach, the mountains nearby, marvelous.

Sandra loved it, too.

I'm not sure Harry did, though. Oh, Harry was a fool.

I mean, not to have considered he was making Sandra unhappy.

He's a man who had everything and appreciated nothing.

And now with this arrest...

Which I hope and pray is a mistake.

It would be nightmarish if it isn't.

Betty, I, uh... I've never been good talking around a subject.

I'm dreading the day I have to leave here, and I'm sure you know why.

Everything has been pleasant up until... I love you, Betty.

I had to say it.

Maybe they're considered cornball words today, but I had to let you know exactly

how I feel.

Well, they're not cornball words. It's just that... Wow, Mr.

Nugent, you really move fast.

Am I the wrong man saying the words?

Oh, no, I didn't mean that.

It's just that... How do I say it?

Say it.

I'm fond of you, Paul.

Can we just wait and see?

Okay.

Let's see.

About two weeks.

Shelly came from Santa Barbara about the first of the month and said something

about trying to get a modeling gig.

That apartment she was living in was sort of... Well, let's say she wasn't

too well financially.

You can say that again.

Hey, I don't know if it's karma or what, but some people just don't get the

breaks. Last winter, her old man up and split with a beat -up old car that she'd

saved all year to buy. Can you believe it?

When you gave her my card and asked her to call me, would you say that she

needed money?

I can do more than say it. She borrowed money for groceries that morning from

me. She was really down and out, huh? Oh, and hurting.

Mr. Jones, I've got to put a couple hours in at the art gallery tonight.

And I don't really think there's much more I can tell you about Shelly.

One last question, Elma. When you gave her my card, did you have the impression

that she was going to call me?

For 20 bucks?

That's a week's rent in that rat trap she was living in.

Thanks for dinner.

Doesn't make sense, Jennifer.

A girl has a valuable ring like that in her possession for several days and goes

around borrowing money for food?

Well, if you're thinking somebody planted the ring in Shelley's apartment

frame Harry Lasheter, what about a motive?

Well, I've been talking with Sandra's attorney.

Her estate's going to amount to over $4 million.

Outside of a bequest of $50 ,000 to an uncle in Canada, Harry gets the whole

thing. Unless, of course, somebody proves that he murdered her.

Right. His share would go back into the estate to be divided amongst Andrew's

blood relatives.

I'm trying to get the attorney to tell me how many there are.

Of course, one is the uncle in Canada. He can't be located. He's supposed to be

on some kind of a business trip.

Wait a minute. You think that uncle might be in L .A.? That's a possibility.

And then there is the cousin, Paul Nugent.

The way he looks to me, behind that boyish smile, you'll find one of the

gamblers this side of Las Vegas.

Wow.

Now that would be heavy.

Would have been a matter of timing.

Paul knocks things about to make it look like a struggle and shoots Sandra and

himself. What about fingerprints? Police didn't find any gloves.

Could have used anything, a sheet, a blanket to hold the gun.

All right, okay. So he goes up to Harry's cabin one day during the week

Harry isn't there.

Takes a pair of shoes, some reload ammunition.

One thing I can't explain, and that's the missing jewelry.

Betty said that she saw Sandra take the ring off and put it in this box, which

was right there.

So... We know it was in the room along with the other missing pieces.

Well, would he hide it somewhere in the room, knowing that police would be

processing a room after a killing like that? Well, one thing is sure, he

wouldn't plan on taking it to the hospital with him.

Want to be Jones' office?

Yeah, he's right here. Hold on.

Attorney for the Lassiter case.

Leonard, thank you for getting back to me so soon.

That's okay.

According to a genealogical study Sandra's father commissioned when he was

alive, Sandra's only blood relatives were limited to that uncle in Canada I

you about and Paul Nugent.

The only two people in Sandra's will were her husband and the uncle.

Yes, except for a token bequest to Paul Nugent.

A few personal things.

But since we've talked, Paul is suddenly very much in the picture inheritance

-wise. How's that?

Since Sandra's death, I've been trying unsuccessfully to contact that uncle at

his farm in Winnipeg.

About 15 minutes ago, I got word back that his body was found at the bottom of

well. Is that so?

The uncle's dead.

What? Anything else, Barnaby?

No, thank you, Leonard. We'll call you if we need you.

When had it happened?

Gentlemen,

I have made a discovery. I enjoy being spoiled.

Press duck at Monique's this evening and tomorrow champagne brunch.

What's the matter? Outside of a few minor bequests, the only two people

mentioned in Sandra's will were her husband Harry and an uncle in Canada.

Oh, yes, that would be her Uncle Reese.

She was very fond of him.

Uncle Reese is dead.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Not as sorry as I am to tell you that the only thing standing between Paul

Nugent and some several million dollars is Harry Lasseter's conviction for

murder.

Paul is behind all this. He certainly does not have a lock on Harry Lasseter

being convicted. There's no direct evidence.

The fact that Paul must be well aware of.

Now, if he is dealing out these cards, and I say if, he must have a joker palm

somewhere.

So now, it's like waiting for the other shoe to fall.

Expecting rain?

Sorry, no.

I just can't seem to get Sandra off my mind.

And now Harry.

And I can tell you the trial won't be easy on any of us.

Oh, Betty, I thought I could pull it off, but no, I'm not sure.

Not if the prosecution hammers away at that one point.

I don't understand, Paul.

It came up yesterday.

Barnaby speaking about my testimony being in Harry's favor.

You see, I never mentioned it before that the burglar might have been

I never mentioned it because I didn't think it was important.

And now with Harry being involved.

The man had been drinking?

Yes.

I'll bet he.

I'm afraid I won't make a good defense witness.

I mean, the fact that I personally like Harry. I mean, you know that.

And some of the things I'll be forced to admit if they ask me.

All you can do is tell the truth, Paul.

You know, Betty, there's one other thing.

I... Well, it's something I've been wrestling with since that night.

that I haven't told anyone because it could almost be an accusation.

Against Harry?

At the time I was shot.

I mean, everything was very painful for a moment and I remember there was a

ringing in my ears from the sound of the gun.

And then...

My eyes were closed, and I heard a voice like a

muttered curse, somebody saying, damn fool.

Are you saying the voice sounded like Harry's?

Oh, no, no, no. I couldn't swear it was Harry's voice.

At the same time, I couldn't swear it wasn't.

Well, Barnaby, Paul had only seconds to snatch his jewelry before Betty and the

others came running in.

Well, Sandra was back in the dressing area.

He'd have had all the time he needed to hide the jewels.

Barnaby?

Yes, Betty?

The other shoe just dropped.

Seems the man behind the ski mask not only had been drinking, he also muttered

few words.

Let me take a not -so -wild guess.

He sounded like Harry.

If pressed, he feels he must admit such was the case.

Barnaby, he seems to be in an expansive mood.

Very confident.

Suppose I draw him out. Get him to talk about the night Sandra was killed.

No. If we're right about Paul, he's not somebody to play games with.

Why don't you draw out to lunch? Give us a couple more hours here.

Right.

That jewel case goes on the table. Yeah.

You know, Barnaby, Paul's been in the house alone.

The jewels could be anywhere.

No, because when Paul shot himself, he had no idea how serious the wound would

be. So he had arranged to leave the jewelry in some place for possibly

weeks.

Where's the figurine?

I don't know. Where is it?

When you took the stuff off the table, wasn't there an oriental figurine with

it? No.

No, there was just this and these two things.

On the night that Sandra was murdered, there was an Oriental figurine in this

room on that table.

I'm sure that it was in Betty's statement to Sheriff Coyle. I know it's

somewhere.

Here it is.

Okay, Coyle. You did see this dinner ring being placed in the jewelry box the

night Mrs. Lasseter was killed.

Betty, it was definitely there.

I happened to be standing at the table admiring an Oriental antique Mr. Nugent

had given Sandra when she removed the ring from her finger and placed it into

the box.

A gift from Paul to Sandra.

Sort of a Trojan horse.

Look, if it's anything like those childproof bottles, why don't you just

it open?

Ah, ye of little faith.

Jackpot. We're so foolish when we're young.

I mean, it passes by so quickly.

And all the I wish I had has become almost like a theme song for failure.

That old expression, take the bull by the horns, well, it's the way to go.

And you feel now that you've taken the bull by the horns?

And making decisions right for me, yes.

When I was packing for my trip here, I told myself,

There are no more tomorrows.

Only the todays.

You've got to gamble.

Gamble. Life against life. What you are against what you could be.

Good grief, Paul, you make living sound grim.

My life is grim.

Like poor Sandra.

You blow -dry your hair one minute, and the next minute you're dead.

Planes crash.

Boat.

Something wrong?

Besides the old killjoy here?

No.

No, I... I just have to get back.

Okay.

Dinner tonight?

Oh, I'm sorry. I've got a ton of bookkeeping.

You know, the IRS.

Always on our trail.

You're no good at playing poker, Betty.

No good at being devious.

Ask me what you're thinking.

Born to be, they left just a few minutes ago. The waitress thinks that they're

headed down to the marina.

Oh, please.

Oh, you're hurting me.

I made a mistake, didn't I? I don't know what you're talking about, Paul.

What was it, Betty?

What was my mistake, Betty?

Talking about Sandra Blodranger here.

How would you have known that unless you were in her bedroom while she was in

her dressing room?

You weren't in your room hearing a scuffle as you told the sheriff.

Such a small thing.

I don't have any other choice, Betty.

You're not going to be able to explain my body being so near.

They'll have to prove it wasn't an accident. I'll settle for that.

Oh, why?

Why all the killing?

It can't be for money.

You're a successful businessman.

Successful?

Hanging on by my fingertips year after year?

Coming here as Sandra's house guest to sip at the good life for a week?

Maybe two?

And then do you know what I go back to?

A pretense that is slowly...

Burying me.

I know you don't understand.

But I love you, Betty.

Now it doesn't matter.

Nugent! Get back!

Sheriff knows all about that hollow antique.

You got no place to go.

Come on, Nugent.

You don't want to hurt anybody else.

Thank you.

I learned that Paul Nugent flew into Winnipeg and rented a car.

So much for how Sanders' uncle wound up in the well.

I wonder what he had in mind for me if I'd been found not guilty at a trial.

Maybe you'll sleep better never knowing.

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