All language subtitles for Mannix S02E17 The Girl Who Came in with the Tide.eng

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

B. 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?