All language subtitles for Mannix S04E14 Round Trip to Nowhere.DVDRip.NonHI.en.CBS

Mr. Hewitt?

Sorry to drag you up here,
Mr. Mannix. We have to talk privately.

About what?

This man.

He's been writing my wife
crazy letters for over a year.

You know the kind... if he
can't have her, nobody else will.

Last week she went to
Chicago to visit her mother.

He jumped into her
taxicab at O'Hare Airport.

Amanda screamed her head off,

he jumped out of the cab
and lost himself in the crowd.

Now he's followed
her to Los Angeles.

How do you know that?

I saw him watching our house.

I took that picture
just before he took off.

But I... I called the police.

But they can't do anything
until he makes a move.

Hm.

Then it could be too late.

My wife could be dead.

♪♪

First I thought he'd
gone up with the car.

But he was thrown clear.

He was dead when
I got down to him.

How'd you get into the act, Joe?

Hewitt made a date to hire me.

He thought somebody
was trying to kill his wife.

He must have had
his victims mixed up.

You don't think it
was an accident?

Do you, Mitch?

Two cars speeding on a mountain
road. One didn't make the turn.

There's nothing to indicate the
guy in the black job bumped Hewitt.

Mrs. Hewitt, you'll
have to sign this.

I'll take care of that,
Laurie. Thank you.

Now, if you'll just
sign this, Mrs. Hewitt,

we'll have a car come
around and take you home.

What is it?

It's just a release for your husband's
personal effects here in his briefcase.

Why don't you sit
down, Mrs. Hewitt?

Can I get you some water?

Mr. Mannix?

Lieutenant Webster said you
were there when it happened.

Yes, uh, I'm a private investigator.
Your husband called me.

Why?

About the threatening
letters you've been getting.

Uh, he gave me this
just before the accident.

Who is he?

Well, isn't this the man that jumped
into your taxi at the Chicago Airport?

Chicago? I've never
been to Chicago in my life.

Mrs. Hewitt, where
does your mother live?

My mother's been
dead for six years.

I'll see about that car now.

Oh, uh, Mitch, I'm
parked right out in front.

I'll drive Mrs. Hewitt home.

Okay, fine, Joe.

I simply can't understand
about that picture.

Why would George have made up
a story about a man I've never seen.

Mrs. Hewitt, do you know if
your husband had any enemies?

I don't think so, but I'd
probably be the last to know.

I'm afraid I didn't
know George very well.

We were married
less than a month.

Where, uh, where did you
meet your husband, Mrs. Hewitt?

New York.

Just after I came
back from Peru.

I spent two years there
in a mountain village

with the Peace Corps.

I was trying to decide
what to do next,

and suddenly there I
was married to George.

I guess that's what
I decided to do next.

That's strange.

What's that?

I left all the
outside lights on.

Not just the coach lights.

But it was daylight when they
called you down to the police station.

I remember thinking it would be
lonely when I got back, and dark.

Well, you better
let me go in first.

Mrs. Hewitt.

Did you leave that door open?

No. I'm sure I locked it.

Doesn't look as though
anything was touched.

I wonder what he
could have been after.

Maybe something your
husband had on him.

Do you mind if I...

No.

House key... car key...

What's that key to?

The desk drawer. Over there.

What does he keep in it?

I don't know. It
was always locked.

This lock has been jimmied.

Hey, you, what are you
doing in that window?

Get away from it!

What happened?

Uh... I saw a prowler looking
in that window right there.

Shouted at him what he
thought he was up to... he hit me.

Lucky thing you showed up.

George home?

Who are you?

Albert Tucker. I was about
to ask you the same question.

My name is Mannix.
I'm a private investigator.

This is Mrs. Hewitt.

Mrs. Hewitt? George didn't
say anything about bein' married.

When was the last
time you saw him?

About a month ago.

In my office in Washington.

Legal matter.

Where is George?

He's dead.

How did it happen?

Car crash.

I'm sorry, Mrs. Hewitt. I won't
bother you at a time like this.

Oh, I... the only thing is I don't know
what I'm going to do with this now.

They're just check stubs.

Yeah.

With only the amounts filled in.

There are no names.

Do you have any idea who
these might have been payable to?

I've never seen them before.

The envelope was sealed
when George gave it to me.

That was a month
ago in Washington.

What are you doing
here now, Mr. Tucker?

Well, George knew I was coming
out to Los Angeles on business,

so he asked me to bring
the envelope with me.

He called me this
afternoon at the Hamilton,

asked me to come
over this evening at 8:30.

What time did he call you?

About 6.

You're sure about
that time, Mr. Tucker?

Yes, I found a note in my box
when I got back from dinner.

I came out right away.

Mr. Hewitt couldn't
have called you at 6:00.

Why not?

Because he was killed at 4:30.

There, you can see for
yourself. It says 6:05 P.M.

Mr. Tucker, you were
Mr. Hewitt's attorney?

- Yes.
- What business was he in?

Well, now I don't think
anyone knew, really.

He seemed to want it that way.

He enjoyed playing
the man of mystery.

Why, why is that important now?

Mr. Mannix thinks my
husband's death wasn't accidental.

It's also very possible
that we saved your life.

How?

Well, whoever it was
that called you at 6:05

must have wanted that
envelope pretty badly.

If we hadn't arrived here before you,
you would have walked right into his trap.

Yeah.

Got it.

That was '69?

There's coffee and
sandwiches over there.

Uh-huh.

And that's all for '68.

Rough subject you picked.

I've spent the whole evening trying to
get a rundown on the late George Hewitt.

Oh, photostats of his tax
returns are on your desk.

I couldn't find any that go
back more than two years.

Oh, and I called New York.

They were married,
April the seventh.

Civil ceremony. So
that much is legitimate.

Hmm.

What, do I detect a yawn?

I'm so glad you noticed.

Oh, why don't you go home,
huh? Oh, and say hello to Toby.

Will do. Good night, Joe.

Good night.

I've seen you take some wacky cases,
Joe, but this is got to be the best yet.

Why?

Did you get a good
look at this guy?

Well, it was pretty dark.

But, uh, I did get a pretty good
look at his fist when he slugged me.

He's got all five knuckles.

Did you uh, get the
prints off the gun?

Yeah, we got 'em all right.

They belong to a man
named Alan Guthrie.

I guess it's just as well
you didn't see his face.

Why is that?

Alan Guthrie's been
dead for two years.

Guthrie?

Alan Guthrie.

Name mean anything to you?

Well, he was 38.

Ex-Air Force.

He was flying for
Monarch Air Freight

and he was killed in a
cargo plane crash in 1968.

1968.

I was in Peru
when he was killed.

Well, there was a miracle.

He's come back to life.

Do you think he had something
to do with George's death?

It's possible.

Don't most private detectives
usually work for money?

Well, we'll worry
about the fee later.

Hey, what's that?

My version of huevos rancheros.

- Hmm.
- My principal diet when I was in Peru.

Well, eat it while it's hot.

Watch it. It's also spicy hot.

Excuse me.

Hello.

Yes he is, just a
moment, please.

- It's your secretary.
- Hmm.

Yeah, Peggy.

What are you eating?

Huevos rancheros.

Huevos rancheros? And I can't
even get you to try soul food.

Anything on Monarch Air Freight?

All they'd admit to was
that a Monarch cargo plane

did go down in Death
Valley, March, '68.

The co-pilot was killed and the
pilot, Alan Guthrie, was, quote, lost.

Well, we found him.

Dig up everything you
can on his Air Force record.

I'll get on to it right
away. Goodbye, Joe.

Tell me, did, uh, did
George ever talk to you

about his friends,
hobbies, that sort of thing?

The only thing he
ever went on about...

It's not that important.

Well, tell me anyway.

Well, he loved horse racing.

We flew down to
Hialeah a couple of times.

Was he a heavy bettor?

Well, if he was,
he never told me.

The account was opened
on April, the eighteenth,

with a cash deposit of
twenty-four thousand dollars.

October ninth, twenty-five
thousand dollars.

There's nothing
until March, 1970.

Thirty-one thousand.

Then on the fourteenth,
that's two weeks ago,

seventeen thousand dollars.

All in cash.

- That's all you have?
- That's all there is, Mr. Mannix.

Our records are complete.

That's almost a
hundred thousand dollars.

I never saw him
before. Who is he?

George Hewitt.
Do anything to you?

Sorry, nothing.

Hewitt likes the races.

I'm trying to track down some big
money he's been getting regularly.

Work down a little lower, honey.
I'm trying to talk to my friend.

Sorry, Joe, he's not a
bookie. I'm pretty sure of that.

And he doesn't bet
at the local tracks.

Yeah, suppose, uh, he placed
bets with some other bookie?

- Big money?
- Twenty, thirty thousand at a crack.

No way.

A regular big money winner, no
matter who handled it, or where, I'd know.

Can I buy you a rub, Joe?

She really takes the kinks out.

I'll keep it in mind.

Hold it very still, Mr. Mannix.

Over here.

Hands on top, feet apart.

Mannix.

Don't be foolish.

I was expecting Alan Guthrie.

Who are you?

- I heard Guthrie was dead.
- You heard wrong.

What did Hewitt say to you
before he went off the mountain?

I presume you were the man in
the black car chasing him, huh?

Say, uh, haven't we
met before in this office?

- What did he say?
- Nothing interesting.

Well, try anyway.

It'd save time if you tell
me what you're looking for.

Stay where you are. Very quiet.

Hi, Joe.

Joe?

Something interesting out there?

Oh, just watching
a visitor leave.

Through the window?

I heard of dissatisfied
clients, but that's ridiculous.

Who was he?

Just a reckless driver.

What did you get?

Not much.

Guthrie was in Vietnam...
Ninety-Seventh Fighter Squadron.

Separated from the
Air Force in April of '67.

He joined Monarch Air Freight
in August of the same year,

and the crash
was in March of '68.

What I don't understand is why
Monarch is so uptight over the crash.

Where are you going?

To give a reckless
driver a ticket.

Aw, Joe, not again.

And after you've pulled the
prints, I'd like my paperweight back.

You want you own prints?

Confess, Joe. What is it
you've think you've done?

Just run it through, Mitch. It
may get you Hewitt's murderer.

You really think there
is such an animal?

Well, run it through
and find out.

Okay. But'll take some time.

Fine. It happens I
have some to kill.

Hello, Amanda.

Your secretary
said I could wait.

I was frightened.

Oh, I don't know, maybe
it's just my imagination,

but I think somebody
was watching the house.

Phone rang four or five times,

and every time I answered
it, the line went dead.

Well, you better stick around
where I can keep an eye on you.

I think we're on the
track of something.

What's that?

This is a report
on a cargo plane

that crashed about eighty
miles south of Tonopah, Nevada,

going from San Francisco
to Louisville, Kentucky.

Alan Guthrie's plane.

Yeah, he was the pilot on the
plane who's either dead or "lost."

I don't know why Monarch Air
Freight is making such a mystery of it.

It was really quite
some explosion.

It's amazing they
got down in one piece.

Well, the cargo list and the list
of stuff they recovered checks out.

Looks like they
got everything back.

Or did they get it back?

Look at this.

The weight totals.

What about them?

Well, they're different.

Hmm.

Exactly 1,449 pounds more
listed on the shipping manifest

than there is on the
list of recovered cargo.

Bingo. There it is.

One crate of machine parts.

1,449 pounds.

But if it was lost, why
wouldn't the company admit it?

I don't know.

And there doesn't seem to
be a claim for insurance, either.

There seems to be
something here by the plane.

Could be a road.

- See it?
- Mm-hmm.

Looks like a track here...

and then it picks
up again over here.

Excuse me.

- Hello, Mitch.
- Joe.

Going off duty and I, uh, figured
you want to know about George Hewitt.

I do.

We sent the reports back
east and they just came back.

Saying what?

Saying his name is
not George Hewitt.

What did his mother call him?

Samuel Whittaker,
born New York, 1931.

Graduate Columbia.

Air Force, rank of Captain.

Oh, and he served in Vietnam.

Ninety-seventh Fighter Squadron.

Right.

Well, Joe, if you knew
that, why did you make...

Just instinct, Mitch.

Tell me, did he ever work
for the Monarch Air Freight?

No no, nothing about that.

He was thrown out of
the Air Force, though.

Quote, separated for the
good of the service, unquote.

Gambling or black market
is best we can gather.

But he had no wants against
him before he changed his name.

He was clean.

Then why change his name?

Joe, I can't do all your work.

Oh, Mitch, there is one
thing you can do for me.

What's that?

Speed up the prints
on my paperweight.

What did the
Lieutenant have to say?

Oh, he just wanted to talk about
somebody involved in this case...

Sam Whittaker.

Who?

That was your
husband's real name.

I guess I really didn't
know him that well, did I?

You told me that, uh, your
husband flew down to Hialeah.

Was that a commercial flight?

No. He rented a plane.

Did he do any flying
after you got here?

Not with me.

But he rented a plane last week.

No, it wasn't, it was
the week before last.

That would have been just before
the last deposit in his checking account.

Do you know where he went?

No. He didn't say.

Do you know where
he rented the plane?

I'm sorry.

But I'd just used the car and
the tank was almost empty.

I remember telling him about it and he
said he'd have it filled when he got there.

It couldn't have been more
than a few miles from the house.

Good girl.

That's Mr. Hewitt, all right.

Sorry about your
husband, Mrs. Hewitt.

Thank you.

He used to fly out
of here all the time.

You know where he went?

No, local, I think. Just
keeping his time in.

He used to handle that 185
like it was a fighter plane.

Do you mind if we
look at your log?

No, not at all.
It's in the office.

See, he'd be gone
for different times.

Here's an hour and a half local.

There's six hours.

Another four hours.

There's no pattern, really. A
guy just likes to get up and cruise.

These figures are
the same each time.

What figures?

Fuel consumption.

Approximately the same amount
of fuel was used every time.

Meaning what?

Well, I'd say that means he
went to the same place every time.

He just stayed on the ground a
little longer sometimes than others.

The question is
where did he set down?

- Mind if I use your phone?
- No, help yourself.

Is this an L.A. sectional chart?

It sure is.

Oh, uh, Lieutenant
Webster, please.

I wonder if you have an
extra one I can take with me.

Yeah, coming up.

Hello, Mitch.

What did you get
on my paperweight?

They said the
prints are classified.

Why is that?

Joe, I asked them
the same question.

What did they say?

They said the
prints are classified.

Thanks a lot, Mitch.

Here's the airport
where he started.

The fuel consumption on the 185 is
twelve gallons at seventy percent power.

That gives us a cruising range of
about a hundred and sixty-five miles.

Now, he used eighteen
gallons on each trip,

half of that is nine gallons,

which would give us a distance of
about, uh, 120 miles, more or less.

Let's take a look at that...

To scale.

That's 120 miles...

That's about fifteen
and a half inches.

Now, if we're not wrong, he set down
someplace on the perimeter of that circle.

Now this section, the southeastern
section, is all built-up coastal area.

Not likely for a man
with something to hide.

South and southwest
is all water, so that's out.

Northwest is mountain
ranges, it's too tough to land.

And just north of
Bakersfield is farm country.

That's a possibility.

Due north is mountain ranges
again, east of that is the desert.

As a matter of fact, the
circle touches on Death Valley.

Well, I was wondering if I'd
see you again, Mr. Tucker.

If that's your name.

Seems everyone in this
case has a different one.

I checked with the
Eastern Bar Association.

There is no Albert Tucker.

I'm Tucker, all right.

What have you found?

I see you have the
Monarch file. Good.

Yeah, that's what I've been
doing. What have you been doing?

Just trying to solve
the Monarch case.

Or rather, trying to get
you to solve it for me.

What did you expect me to find?

Gold, Mr. Mannix.

Gold?

Half a million dollars' worth.

Hold it!

My identification's
in my pocket.

Very slowly.

Sergeant Albert Tucker,
San Francisco Mint.

We were shipping
the gold to Fort Knox.

I've been on this
case for two years.

Well, since when do they have
guards doing their investigating for them?

Well, I was the officer in
charge of the shipment.

And I got suspended.

They needed a patsy
and you were it, huh?

That happens to be true.

The only way I can clear
myself is to find that gold.

What's that got to do
with Hewitt and Guthrie?

Well, the way I reconstruct
what happened on the plane,

Guthrie killed the co-pilot,
then he landed the plane.

He set a fire and
then an explosion

to make it look as though
he'd been blown out in mid-air.

Your husband's job was to follow
the cargo plane in his own ship.

Then he landed next to
Guthrie in a pre-determined spot

and they transferred the gold.

The machine parts.

The 1,400-pound discrepancy.

That's a lot of gold.

Why is it nothing was said
about it in the newspaper?

Well, the Treasury Department
asked Monarch to keep it quiet

because they knew
that sooner or later

whoever had the gold would
feel that he was in the clear

and he'd tip his hand.

And her husband
double-crossed Guthrie.

Beat him, left him for dead,
and took off with the gold.

When Guthrie came
to, he had to walk out.

I imagine Hewitt must have
felt he really had it made...

until Guthrie
caught up with him.

Of all the times your husband
landed, he must have left some trace.

Uh, look, Mannix.

You've got a pilot's license.

- I know, I checked.
- So?

So I can't fly.

But I know the kind
of a spot he'd pick.

I don't know where, you know where,
but you don't know what to look for.

So I think we kind
of need each other.

That's a pretty cagey deal

for a man that's fighting to clear
his record and regain his self-respect.

Hmm... I'm fighting for that
ten percent recovery fee.

That can buy me a
whole lot of self-respect.

Tango 473, ready for takeoff.

Tango 473, you are
cleared for takeoff.

It was all checked
out this morning.

It'll be just fine.

Look if you've got everything
you want, can I go now?

Sure.

Ah, it's too rocky to land.

Try down there.

Land here. I think
we've found it.

Yeah, I guess that could
be used as a wind sock.

I don't know how safe
these supports are.

Maybe you'd better wait
here until we check it out.

I'd rather go with you.

All right.

- This looks like it might be it.
- Yeah.

Here, maybe we
can get this one loose.

Well, here's the furnace,
but there's no sign of the gold.

What made you so sure
it was hidden in a mine?

Because you
can't sell mint gold.

It's too pure.

That's why I knew
he'd have to find a mine

where there are natural
impurities available.

Then with heat and water...

He could refine the gold into
nuggets he could sell anywhere.

I think the rest of the gold must
be back in that mine somewhere.

Well, I guess you'd better go
that way and we'll go this way.

Right.

Oh, it's all right.

They're just bats. We
must have scared them.

Come on.

Tucker?

Tucker!

What happened?

I found it. I found it.

Well, don't touch anything else.

You're liable to bring this
whole mountain down on us.

But the gold is there, Mannix!

Tucker!

Tucker!

Hold it!

Get your hands high. I've
got a gun here, Mannix.

I'll use it.

Higher.

Huh... Guthrie.

Just risen from the dead.

That's right.

Your husband was a
stubborn man, Mrs. Hewitt.

He tried to kill me once; then he hired
Mannix to find me so he could try again.

But I caught up with him first,
and he went... over the mountain.

Why did you kill him, Tucker?

He was your case.

Because he was going to shoot
you... You and Mrs. Hewitt, here.

A man like that doesn't
have any compunction

at all about killing people.

Amanda, why don't you
wait out by the plane?

I'll give Tucker a
hand with the gold.

Stay where you
are... don't move!

You move and I'll kill her.

Drop the light.

Now very slowly...
very carefully...

Take your gun... two fingers...
And throw it over there.

I kind of figured you were
beginning to put things together.

You know now that I was in on this
thing from the beginning, don't you?

And you took those
check stubs out of the desk,

and then you gave them right
back to us out in front of the house.

Hewitt was dead.

I thought maybe you might
be able to help us find the gold.

And you did.

Now that you've killed
your one remaining partner,

you don't have to split
the gold with anyone.

- It's neater that way.
- And now you're going to kill us.

I wouldn't put it that
way, Mrs. Hewitt.

Let's just say
it's fair exchange.

The gold leaves,
and you two stay.

Nobody's found this
place for two years.

They ain't likely to.

Nobody can tie me into it.

How are you going
to get the gold out?

You can't fly a plane.

I'm afraid I lied to you
about that, too, Mannix.

I can fly.

I've been over half the mines
in California and Nevada.

But you found those flight schedules,
and that pin-pointed it for me.

Hold it.

It's classified
fingerprints, I presume.

The name is Barnes.

And I thought it was you who
ran Hewitt off that mountain road.

If we drive like that in the Treasury
Department, we lose our license.

We've had you on
radar since you took off.

Yeah, well...
that's very efficient.

We do pride ourselves on
our department, Mr. Mannix.

Next time, call us.

I'll do that.

You're absolutely sure, huh?

No, I'm not. That's
why I'm going.

Before I do something
impulsive again.

Where to this time?

They'll tell me when I
get to San Francisco.

For how long?

Two years.

That's a long time
between huevos rancheros.

Just long enough to
get my head together.

Bye, Amanda.