Original subtitles

Hoist 'em!

Or I'll give that funny shirt you're wearing a couple of more colors.

Quit playing games, a girl is missing.

I don't like working with partners.

Look what you're driving.

How do you expect to lose a tail

when you stick out like King Kong on the Empire State Building?

Jonathan Higgins, Robin's Nest.

Luther Gillis, P.I., St. Louis.

You, too?

Nancy!

Nancy! Nancy! Wait a minute!

Luther! Look out!

GILLIS: Thursday. 4:00 a.m.

Too early to call it quits and too late to try and flop.

The arthritis was making my fingers feel like leftover Jell-O

and the last 12 butts had turned my mouth as dry as cotton candy.

I knew it was time to move in before I lost my appetite.

Name's Gillis, Luther. Hail from St. Louis.

I usually don't take cases out of town. But times are tough,

not like after the war.

Everyone was looking for someone then.

Even had a partner. Had.

Chuckie bought it outside a dime-a-dance joint in San Jose back in '63.

I've been on my own ever since.

Talk to me, sweetheart. Gary in?

Thanks.

Buy yourself a new dress. You're gonna catch cold.

This caper I was on was strictly routine.

File number 521, I called it.

Teenage girl ditches geography and runs off to Honolulu.

To my way of looking at it, she didn't need the class anyway.

Because any girl that can find her way from East St. Louis to paradise

deserves an "A" in my book.

The last anybody heard of little Nancy Perkins was three months ago.

I got it through the vine that she was living with some crud named Gary,

a nickel-and-dime dealer, all-around sleaze-o.

You know, I got the feeling I've been on this case a hundred times before.

Somehow nothing ever changes.

In all my years at this dodge, I've come across a whole lot of ways

to get into locked hotel rooms,

skeleton keys, lock picks, credit cards.

But I guess I'm just an old-fashioned kind of guy.

Hoist 'em!

You got it!

About your decorator.

Oh...

I think you've got the wrong idea here.

Put a lid on it, Gary.

- Where's the bimbo? - Gary?

Bimbo?

You're trying my patience.

Come across with little Nancy

or you'll be reading the fine print on the Mann Act

under a 40-watt bulb at Oahu Prison.

Little Nancy?

Nancy Perkins?

Funny what the open end of a .38 will do for the memory.

Hoist 'em!

Where is she, Gary?

Oh, I get it.

You think I'm Gary. I'm not Gary.

I think I can explain this if you'll just put the gun away.

Hoist 'em!

Or I'll give that funny shirt you're wearing a couple of more colors,

like two shades of red.

Look, I'm not Gary!

I'm looking for Gary. I'm also looking for little Nancy, and--

All right, freeze! You're under arrest!

All right, what are you guys doing here?

Would you believe Parcheesi?

No.

Maybe I'd believe a little grass.

All right, you guys are coming with us.

Oh, wait, I think I can explain.

See, I found that and I was going to call you guys.

Downtown, Gary.

I'm not Gary!

That's Gary.

Being a private investigator is usually interesting work.

You meet all kinds of different people,

and every once in a while,

you get to help out somebody who really needs a hand.

Sometimes it's worth the occasional right cross to the jaw

or the cold night in jail.

But sometimes you also wonder how long you can do it

before you have to grow up

and get a real job.

Especially when you see the future staring you right in the face.

So you're a private detective, huh?

Investigator.

Investigator. Detective. Gumshoe. Dick. Flatfoot. Who cares?

We both work the same side of the street

and evidently the same case. Who hired you, Magnum?

Nancy Perkins' mother. Who hired you?

The dad. Real cozy.

Yeah, they're getting a divorce.

Looks like we're in the middle of a custody fight.

Yeah, kind of like playing basketball without a hoop.

When did the mom hire you?

- Last week. - From where?

St. Louis.

Why did you ice Gary?

What? Come on, I didn't ice Gary.

Just checking, trying to trip you up.

Rapid-fire delivery, that's part of my style.

Everybody's gotta have a style.

Come on, Luther!

Quit playing games, a girl is missing.

The guy she's staying with is dead and I gotta find her

or she's gonna end up the same way.

One of us has.

You got your client, I get mine.

Gentlemen. Gentlemen!

I'm trying to get some work done here on my book.

- So if you could just-- - Stuff it, scrunge-o!

Let me share something with you, Magnum.

I don't like wise guys and I don't like working with partners.

Who said anything about partners?

I've been working alone too long, see?

Fine.

You try to find Nancy Perkins your way

and I'll try to find her my way.

And let's hope one of us gets to her while she's still in one piece. Got it?

Fine! I got it!

Good. I'm glad we understand each other. Now...

how do we get out of this place?

I just might be able to arrange that.

Yeah, right. Connections in high places.

Buddies with the local Kahuna.

Better.

You see, Luther,

there are some advantages to working with me.

If I needed the help, which I don't,

because this is my town, people know me.

And I'm in fairly tight with the local constabulary,

which means all I'd have to do...

call my friend, Lieutenant Tanaka.

And he'd have us out of here...

just like that.

Sorry, Magnum, you two guys aren't going anywhere.

Wait a second. You and I are going to the Islander game tonight.

So, I'll take my grandson, Biff.

But they're box seats.

They're right behind home plate.

Do you have any idea what they cost me?

Ooh, plenty.

What do you know about Gary Alexander?

Just that he's living with a Nancy Perkins, a runaway.

I'm working for the mother.

And you, Mr. Gillis?

I'm working for the dad, okay?

Sure it's okay with me.

What do either of you know about the late Mr. Alexander and his associates?

Nothing.

Just that he'd been dealing some marijuana.

Look, I'm sorry, lieutenant, but I can't tell you anything else.

Sorry? Sorry?

What are you apologizing for? He's a cop.

- He's just doing his job. - He's a cop!

I don't know what kind of private eyes they're making nowadays,

but when you start apologizing to cops,

maybe it's time I packed it in.

Look, Tanaka, I gotta get out of here.

I gotta get back to my hotel, take a shower and shave,

plus I got a case to solve.

Go to your ballgame.

You better tell your partner to calm down, Magnum.

He's not my partner. Luther.

I bet the next thing you're gonna tell me is

I can't leave the island 'cause I'm a material witness.

- Magnum. - Luther.

Mr. Gillis--

Do you know how many coppers have laid that line on me in my time?

Look, buddy, I know the rules.

Now give me the key to this two-bit tank and let me out of here.

I just threw it away.

The big guy sure had a temper, I'll say that for him.

What a way to spend a night,

but he's gotta learn you can't let cops push you around.

And he even got madder when I got my secretary to wire my bail for me.

That Blanche, she's a helluva kid.

Been with me since '51.

Funny how time creeps by.

Sun and Surf Motel.

Anyway, the bail got here before Magnum's so-called friends did.

Of course, that didn't make him any happier about things.

But, hey, I got a case to solve.

What kept you guys?

Love.

What do you mean, "love"?

Six-love, six-love, six-love.

You got to rub it in?

No, I guess I don't.

Gee, that's just great, guys. I'm sitting in jail on a murder charge

and you guys are out hitting a little ball back and forth.

I thought you were trying to find out about Gary Alexander,

but you're just out having a good time. Thanks.

- Thanks a lot. - Hey, Thomas,

we weren't out playing tennis with ourselves.

We were out playing with Ice Pick.

Yeah, and his bodyguard, Hugo.

- Hugo? - Yeah. Doubles.

And the only way to get any information out of him was by losing.

Six-love.

Do you think it's easy losing to an 80-pound shrimp?

And his 400-pound bodyguard?

Do you realize how many tennis balls he broke?

Not to mention rackets.

Hugo?

Look, Thomas, we don't have all day.

I mean, our pride and our self-respect have been shattered.

Do you want the information or not?

Yeah. Wait a minute, guys.

Come on, come on, T.C., I'm sorry. Sorry, Rick.

What did you find out?

Well, we found out that Gary was into Artie Keanu for mucho bucks.

Now, he ripped him off on a couple of deals, skimmed right off the top.

You find Artie Keanu, you find who killed Gary Alexander.

And maybe the missing chick.

Well, thanks, guys.

Look, can you drop me off at the estate?

First, we've got one stop to make.

Ice Pick wants to see you.

So does Hugo.

Sorry, pal. Part of the deal.

After five tiebreakers with Ice Pick and Hugo,

I finally went to see Artie Keanu.

Now, when I write my book on how to be a world class private investigator,

I'm going to include a chapter about getting in touch with local crime bosses.

Paragraph one,

it's not easy.

That's because guys like Artie Keanu tend to run everything

through subordinates, guys like Gary.

Gary was no longer with him.

Instead, I got a guy on the phone

with gravel for a voice telling me to get lost.

Not polite at all.

Paragraph two,

if phone calls don't work, try a personal visit.

Sure, it was dangerous,

but I figured once I got to Artie himself,

he'd understand and help me find little Nancy.

I'd appeal to his sense of compassion and humanity

and I'd also put a. 45 to his head.

Paragraph three,

what you have to be careful about

are ignoring the guys with the gravely voices

because they're the type of yo-yos

who tend to shoot first and ask questions later.

Rookies.

I took the big guy to an emergency room

and got that thick skull of his patched up.

The outside.

The inside was another matter.

What's the matter with you? You could've got the both of us killed.

- Quit the yelling. - I'm not yelling.

Where is your place?

Straight ahead.

Listen, bub, you better stick to your surfboards and suntans

and stay out of my way!

- Luther, my head-- - Is filled with air!

Air!

Do you realize what a dumb mistake you made back there?

Running blind into that place.

I don't believe you!

Right here. Look at that.

Chapter six,

Working The Waterfront.

What's this?

What's this? What's this? It's my book!

Stop yelling. Please.

So You Want To Be A Private Eye? by Luther H. Gillis.

What's so funny?

Nothing.

Nothing. You wouldn't understand.

Here we are.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it was me that got hit in the head.

No, I see it, too.

I say, Magnum, you look like bloody hell.

Beaten up again, I imagine.

No, I wasn't beaten up.

He was shot.

Oh, Mr. Magnum, are you all right?

I'm fine, Agatha, I'm fine.

The bullet just creased my forehead.

- It's just a flesh wound. - It's just a flesh wound.

Well, perhaps if you enrolled in Jonathan's kung fu class,

you might be better able to defend yourself.

Right, girls?

Against bullets?

Who shot you, Magnum?

Another philandering husband on yet another tawdry divorce case?

- Or was it-- - Hey, wait a second, bub.

What's so tawdry about a divorce case?

I beg your pardon?

You heard me. I said what's tawdry about a divorce case?

Guy's gotta make a buck.

Peeping in keyholes

and hanging upside down on fire escapes gawking through windows

hardly qualifies as dignified labor to me.

I'm afraid, sir, we've not been introduced.

Jonathan Higgins, Robin's Nest.

Luther Gillis, P.I., St. Louis.

P.I.? You too?

You got it, Bruce Lee.

Luther and I,

we're sort of on the same case, but we're not really.

How droll. A team.

No. We're not a team.

Of course.

By the by, Rick's been looking for you.

He says he's had a break in the case.

Great.

Oh, Magnum,

I was going to ask you to stand in while the ladies demonstrate their jump kick.

But inasmuch as you are indisposed,

may I prevail upon Mr. Gillis?

What's the matter with you standing in?

I have to observe the ladies' form before moving on to the next lesson.

Just, stay right where you are, Mr. Gillis.

Gladys.

Oh, my God!

Look. Look, I'm sorry, okay?

I thought that old broad was trying to kick my dentures in.

Get out of my life, Luther.

I'm out.

I just wanna find out what your friend has to say about Nancy Perkins.

Hello, Magnum.

I see that you have finally succumbed to the realities of modern living.

Perhaps now your clients will be able to reach you

without calling on Mr. Masters' private line.

On the other hand, so will the inevitable parade of bill collectors.

I shudder to think what you'll be spending on audio tape.

At any rate, what I'm calling about is the lads.

I've been promising to take them to the

Anglo-Hawaiian Canine Convention, this Sunday and--

Hello, Thomas. This is Sheryl.

You remember me?

Thielburg Insurance.

Anyway, if you're out of work,

we have this insurance claim we need a report on--

Insurance dogging, Mr. Big Time?

Sideline.

Hey, Thomas, where you been?

I got some new skinny on Artie Keanu.

Hey, where did you get this machine?

You didn't take this out of my office, did you?

No, it's still here.

Anyway, I found out Keanu personally runs a weekly cockfight

over on Old Awamoku Road on the other side of the Pali.

Ho-ho, big money, too.

Lots of action. Just one thing, though, pally,

you go up there, you better make sure your insurance is paid up

and your bar tab.

See you, bub.

Hey, just a second, Luther. Where do you think you're going?

You heard the guy, Owomaku Road.

You don't know where "Awamoku Road" is.

You don't even know how to say it.

I'll find it. They haven't made a place I can't find.

Great. You find it, you're going to get yourself killed.

Who's talking? I'm not the one who's bouncing bullets off his head.

Besides, this is my case.

It's my case and I'm going up there.

So am I!

You got a concussion. You can't even see!

- You're staying right here. - No!

I know what you're thinking, Magnum.

You're thinking that I'm old, washed-up,

- through, some kind of relic - Luther.

A dinosaur or something. Well, I'll tell you something, bud,

I was bringing back runaways and standing up before big guys

- before you were born. - Before I was born!

Luther...

all I'm saying

is it doesn't get any easier.

And Artie Keanu is a tough guy to go up against alone.

Look, can you get me a couple of aspirin, will you?

My head, please.

Sure, big guy. Where are they?

In the cupboard, above the sink.

You just stay right there.

I'll handle this Artie Canoe guy.

It's "Keanu."

And besides, assuming...

assuming you find the fight,

I mean, how are you going to play it?

Thanks.

I mean...

Artie is going to have more muscle around him

than the Raiders' offensive line.

Let's just say I still got a few tricks up my sleeve.

Like what?

Like Chloral Hydrate.

Chapter nine.

You never know when you'll need a mickey, Magnum.

You see, you just don't understand.

Luther Gillis works alone.

I'm sorry, okay?

I kind of felt bad about doping the big guy.

After all, he meant well, but a lug like that's just gonna get in the way.

At any rate, it bought me some time to get to the hotel

and get in some local undercover type duds.

Plenty of time, because I knew Magnum

was going to be seeing more stars in the next few hours

than there were in Schwab's Drugstore circa 1953.

I never could figure out how come people

like seeing little birdies with razorblades on their toes,

slashing each other to ribbons.

I mean, those poor slobs should be sitting on top of a henhouse

crowing the break of day, enjoying life.

Of course, I never could figure out wars or boxing or the roller derby either.

I just go along and do the best I can.

Which includes putting it on the line every once in a while.

Especially when it's worth it.

And I was hoping that little Nancy Perkins was.

Hey, big boy. I'm looking to lay one on the fight tonight. Where's Artie?

Just lay it on me, brother. I'll see he gets it.

Not good enough.

I only give it to Artie. Nothing personal,

just that I don't know you.

They call me Little Tony. Now you know me.

They call me Luther Gillis.

Now do you want to tell Artie he's not welcome in Vegas anymore,

or do I?

This is Luther Gillis you're talking to.

You understand? Luther H. Gillis from Vegas.

Now do you tell me where my friend Artie is

or do I rip your heart out through your lungs?

In the office.

Thanks.

You're a sweetheart.

Little Tony didn't know it,

but I was seriously considering getting into a new line of work

like astronomy or something.

I mean, none of this is getting any easier.

So while I still had the nerve I thought I'd try

the direct approach with Artie Canoe.

Where is she? Nancy Perkins? 16, strawberry blonde.

Lived with that crud you iced.

- I didn't ice him. - I don't give a damn about him.

- Where's the girl, Artie? - I don't know.

- Now you better-- - I better what, huh? I better what?

In three seconds, I'm gonna pull this trigger

and your guts are gonna go splashing across this room.

Now, talk to me, Artie!

Three! Two!

- Sister Rose. - What?

Try Sister Rose, Hotel Street.

Look, I don't know where the little girl is either, man.

And she's damn lucky about that.

But if anybody would know, it'd be Sister Rose.

Thanks.

Besides being illegal,

hasn't anybody ever told you that cockfighting isn't nice?

Be kind to animals, Artie.

They're supposed to be dumber than we are.

My thought for the day. See you.

I kind of thought that was a long time to be putting down a bet.

Back inside, Mr. Vegas.

Hi, guys.

Now, let's discuss this situation for a minute. You see...

Artie, if you guys decide to do anything funny, here's what happens.

Luther shoots you,

the big guy shoots Luther, and I shoot the big guy.

Which means, you two guys wind up dead and all I lose is Luther.

Which at this point, begins to sound more and more acceptable.

Now, there is an alternative.

You can let us both go and we promise not to bother you anymore.

I guess we're even now.

Now we're even.

You're learning, big guy.

Come on, I'll buy you a beer.

You got us out of a tough one.

We're home free now.

This is the police. Don't anybody move.

We have this entire place surrounded.

Guard! Guard! Get me out of here!

I want a separate cell.

I want a separate prison!

I'm through with you! Through!

Likewise!

I should practice what I preach.

Never work with a partner who is less capable than you.

Chapter five.

I'm not working with you, Luther!

I know that! That's because you don't listen.

No! No, it's...

it's you who won't listen! I told you not to go there.

Yeah? Who got the name Sister Rose?

Sister Rose. Yeah, who is she?

Nobody. It won't mean anything to you.

Withholding information! That isn't fair!

Yeah? I suppose slipping me a mickey was?

Hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

You two are menaces. Walking menaces.

First, murder. Then mayhem. Now an attempted suicide.

Trouble is my business.

Luther.

Putting people behind bars is mine.

You've got nothing on us. You gotta let us make bail.

Oh, come on, Luther, please, not again.

Don't worry. I'm going to let you go.

First, three questions,

you've got anything new to tell me about the murder of Gary Alexander?

Is Artie Keanu mixed up in it?

And where does this runaway kid fit in?

No. Maybe. And we don't know.

The two of you got 24 hours to come up with the answers

or I'm going to run you both in on the murder rap.

That's ridiculous, lieutenant.

- It won't stick! - It won't stick!

Maybe. The D.A.'s on my butt to make an arrest

and since the two of you were in the apartment when the body was found,

I think I have a couple of likely candidates for him.

Come on, lieutenant, it won't stick.

How do I know that?

It's strange how the wheels of justice sometimes turn.

But I suppose if there's a mistake,

I can always redo the paperwork.

See you guys.

Wait a second.

Why 24 hours? That's--

That's when we lose the room.

We searched it, sealed it and found nothing.

So we've got to turn it back to the hotel.

Aloha, gentlemen.

Yeah, aloha yourself.

Hey, Magnum, you see the sports page today?

Tigers back into first place. They got rained out.

But Baltimore lost.

Looks like a real big year for comebacks.

I know what you're thinking.

24 hours doesn't seem like a whole lot of time

to find a missing teenage girl and solve a murder.

But having to do it with Luther Gillis

can make it seem like an eternity.

Of course, I've been in tighter spots before.

Like the time Eddie "The Wimp" Korcek

was pouring cement over my wingtips.

But never, ever have I had a handicap like this guy.

I mean, criminy, the dope doesn't even know we're pulling a tail.

We got a tail, Luther.

Don't look!

I already spotted him nine palm trees ago.

Sure.

Yellow Caddie.

Don't look so surprised.

Look what you're driving.

How do you expect to lose a tail

when you stick out like King Kong on the Empire State Building?

Like this.

Oh, my God!

Watch it!

My old Nash never did things like this.

Lot of good your racecar's doing us here.

You know, some guys are never satisfied.

Didn't I just shake that tail?

So, big deal.

Probably your copper friend keeping an eye on us.

I don't think so. It's not Tanaka's style.

He don't have any style.

My guess is it's Artie Keanu.

I got a hunch that he wants little Nancy Perkins as much as we do.

Look at this place.

Some paradise.

I could've seen this stuff in St. Louis.

Nobody's stopping you.

What? What did you say?

Luther, paradise isn't a place.

It's a state of mind, you know?

- It's a feeling you get when-- - Oh, just gimme a break, will you?

I don't want to get sick in front of all these nice people.

Now who's this Sister Rose broad and where's her cathouse?

It's right up here.

She's probably some fat old broad in a cheap black dress

with a bunch of two-bit chicks.

Come on, come on, what's the password?

The password is God, gentlemen.

How may I be of service?

You're Sister Rose?

Sister Mary Magdalene Rose--

Ah, excuse me, Sister. I'm Luther Gillis.

This is my partner, Tom Magnum.

How do you do?

We're private investigators.

We're looking for a runaway girl from St. Louis.

She's very pretty.

She's only 16, Sister. Her name's Nancy Perkins.

I'm afraid I can't help you.

You haven't seen her?

My mission down here in this district is to offer shelter

and guidance to those young ladies who seek it.

I ask no questions.

I'm just here, someone they can trust.

When they feel that they're once again ready

for the outside world, well...

I'm sorry, Mr. Gillis, Mr. Magnum.

Right now I can't help you.

Yeah, sure. Well, what if I--

I'll pray for her, Mr. Gillis. I promise.

Thanks.

But perhaps you two gentlemen can help me.

A small offering?

It wasn't the $10 that was bothering me.

It was something else. A little voice.

It was telling me that nuns aren't supposed to lie.

It's in their rulebook or something.

And, when you seriously analyze it, Sister Rose didn't lie to us.

She just said she couldn't help us

and that she'd pray for Nancy.

Didn't say anything about not seeing her.

I remember once when I was nine years old

and I was in Catechism with my former best friend, Eddie "The Wimp" Korcek

and our teacher was Sister Mary Alice Meanface.

She was always after Eddie for pulling stunts,

but could never catch him.

So she did the next best thing by busting my knuckles

with her steel-plated ruler.

I'll never forget the look on her face when I didn't squeal.

It was scared,

like a am-I-doing-the-right-thing kind of look.

Just like the look I saw five minutes ago on that nun's face.

Nancy?

Nancy! Come on! Open up in there!

Nancy! Nancy, you in there?

Come on! Come on! Open up again!

You stay on her! I'm gonna go around back.

Come on, open up!

Nancy! No, Nancy! It's okay!

Nancy! Nancy! Wait a minute!

Luther!

Luther! Look out!

Luther!

Luther, you all right?

Yeah, yeah, of course.

Just help me up.

- What's the matter with you? - Did she get away?

Yeah.

You know, Luther, you almost killed yourself just now.

Somehow I don't think running into oncoming traffic

after a runaway qualifies as a chapter in your book.

Except maybe if she's your daughter.

Then maybe you might just run through hell.

I took Luther to an emergency room

and had his head patched up.

The outside.

The inside, of course, was another matter.

Chuckie! Look out! That one's got your name on it!

Look out.

Oh!

Oh, poor Chuckie.

Luther was obviously in no condition

to answer a couple of routine questions.

Like, how come he didn't tell me Nancy Perkins was his daughter?

And given that, how come he hired himself to find her?

I'm gonna marry you, Blanche. I promise.

St. Luke's, 10:00, I'll be there.

Time was running out.

Tanaka was going to run us in on the murder rap

and I had the feeling that time was running out

on little Nancy Perkins, too.

Or whatever her name was.

Therefore, I had to stash Luther someplace safe and go this alone.

And I knew, given the circumstances, that Higgins would understand.

Absolutely not.

And how dare you bring back this slovenly, sadistic bully?

- How dare you? - Because he needs help!

Obviously so do you.

By the way, your matching bandages are quite the thing.

You do make such a debonair pair.

Woody Herman's at the Palace. You want to go cut a rug, Blanche?

Oh, come on, Higgins, just for a few hours.

Look, he's not even in his right mind.

And obviously neither are you

- if you think for one moment that-- - Just let me explain!

See, look, that runaway girl we're after turned out to be Luther's daughter.

Really, Magnum, with him as her father,

I can hardly blame her for fleeing.

And if I don't find her or the guys that killed her boyfriend by tomorrow,

we're up on murder charges.

Don't be ridiculous, Magnum,

- it won't stick. - It won't stick.

I know that.

Look, all I'm saying is,

that was one frightened girl I saw today.

Now, whoever killed Gary is after her.

- Why? - Why? How do I...

Why does he always do that, Jonathan?

I don't know, Agatha.

I think sometimes our Creator is testing me.

Indeed, it could be for no other reason.

If I thought otherwise, I believe I truly would go irrevocably,

irretrievably mad.

Higgins' question was one I should have asked

a long time ago.

Like when that cop held that bag of marijuana in our faces.

Whoever trashed Gary's apartment wasn't interested in dope.

And whatever they were interested in,

they believed Nancy Perkins had it.

Or would lead them to it,

just as soon as Tanaka took his boys out of the room.

That's where me and Luther came in,

flush her out.

I could almost hear this guy's fingers on the phone.

Knowing how jittery little Nancy was,

I thought honesty would be the best policy.

Freeze! Police!

You're not a cop.

And you're not a hooker.

Or a toaster repairman. What are you hiding, Nancy?

$30,000.

Go ahead, take it!

I don't care anymore. You guys can have it all back.

Gary was wrong, he shouldn't have ripped off Artie.

Now he's dead.

Go ahead, take it!

That's not what I'm here for, Nancy.

I'm here for you.

You're not with Artie Keanu?

No. I'm a private investigator.

Nancy, it's time to go back to St. Louis.

Oh, great. Who hired you?

My drunken mom or the two-timing dipstick she married last year?

Take me back to them? No, thanks.

And that goes double if you're working for that creep

who calls himself my father.

That creep who calls himself your father

ran in front of a car trying to get to you.

That was him?

Luther Gillis?

You didn't know?

I haven't seen him since I was three years old.

He ran out on me and my mom.

I was just getting used to it.

Maybe Luther hasn't.

He really cares for you, Nancy.

He wants you back.

You sure?

Yeah.

I mean, if he loves me so much,

then why did he leave?

If he loves me so much,

then how come he keeps confusing my birthday with my little brother's?

I get birthday cards in August.

It's like I'm a Pisces, you know.

At least he's trying.

Maybe you can, too.

It's too late.

Nancy...

you know what Luther would do if he were here right now?

Huh?

What?

Don't you touch me.

That was him the other night.

What?

He gave me $5 to find out if Gary was in.

I didn't even know it was him.

He didn't know it was me...

and Gary was dead. I'd just seen them do it.

I was running.

Okay, so...

if you're not a cop and you're not with the hoods,

we've gotta get out of here quick.

Nancy...

we've got nothing to worry about.

I've got two of my associates outside waiting to cover us, right now.

Really?

Really.

Hands on the dashboard, you two,

or your sons and daughters will be orphans.

- We don't have any kids. - Who cares? You get the idea.

Hands on the dashboard. Take off those suspenders.

- Hey! - Hey, nothing.

I'm gonna tie you two hoods up with it for the cops.

Hey, wait a minute, mister. We're not--

Relax, Nancy. In about 60 seconds,

my friends are gonna come knocking at that door

and take you away.

I'll call the police

and Artie Keanu will be history.

Are you sure you know what you're doing?

Yep.

So you thought I was out of the picture?

Well, two tons of Detroit steel bouncing off my head

or a gaggle of karate screaming old ladies

ain't gonna stop Luther Gillis, Private Investigator.

I don't miss a trick, kiddos.

Can it, will you, guys?

Great. I think I hear 'em now.

It's working like a charm.

So I finally closed the book on file number 521.

Little Nancy Perkins Gillis was safe and sound.

And Artie Canoe and his cheap thugs

had more holes in 'em than 12 pounds of rotten Swiss cheese.

It was all over except the shouting.

You could have got me killed!

Tom, in this business, you got to take chances.

When you start losing your nerve, it's time to get out.

Right. What chapter was that one in?

The last one

and I ain't got to it yet.

Mr. Magnum, Mr. Gillis. Come in.

Hi, Sister. Came by to say goodbye to Nancy.

She's expecting you.

By the way, we want to thank you for the small offering.

This one wasn't so small. Yeah, right.

Well, don't tell the lieutenant, you know, that Tanaka cat.

Oh, the money will be put to good use.

As will Nancy.

Thank you, Sister.

I know you'll take good care of my little girl.

Oh, thank you.

And I apologize for not being totally honest with the two of you before,

but that's because your daughter was not totally honest with me.

I'm afraid it kind of runs in the family, Sister.

Well, you take care, okay?

I'll write to you.

I promise, in March.

See, I remembered.

It's Timmy who's in August.

That's Jimmy, Dad.

Right. Right. It's just a joke.

If you ever decide to run away again,

you come to St. Louis, okay?

Come on, I'll drive you to the airport.

As a matter of fact, I'll only be too happy to do it.

Thanks.

One question, Luther.

What?

Well, how did you know to go back to Gary's rooming house?

I mean, I went through a lot to figure that one out.

Easy. They always return to the scene of the crime.

Chapter 11.

And if he believed that,

I got some swampland in Florida for him, too.