All language subtitles for Mannix S03E12 Missing Sun and Sky en

Do you plan to give
Sun and Sky another race

before the Derby, Mr. Green?

Why, yes, Bob.

We've entered him in
the Stepping Stone

at Churchill Downs
one week from today.

It'll give him a chance
to get to know the track.

They're loading the horses now.

Everything's right on schedule.

The first time you saw
Sun and Sky, Mrs. Green,

did you ever think that
in just a couple of years,

he'd be a favorite
in the Kentucky Derby?

Oh, well, not exactly.

He was only two days old.

He was a scrawny
little thing

with wobbly legs and the saddest
pair of eyes you've ever seen.

All I could do was put
my arms around him

and tell him everything
was going to be just fine.

And so, ladies and gentlemen,

Mr. and Mrs. Richmond Green's
colt, Sun and Sky,

leaves California
on the first leg

of what could become
an historic journey.

A prohibitive favorite
in the Run for the Roses,

Sun and Sky now seems
to have an excellent chance

in the Preakness
and in the Belmont Stakes

and would thus become
the first winner

of the elusive
Triple Crown

since Citation pulled
that trick in 1948.

I know it's foolish, but I...
I get nervous when he flies.

Darling, he'll be just fine.

Is that cool yet?

Well, it ought to be.

Thanks.

Give me a hand with this clamp,
will you, Floyd? It's loose.

Yep.

Yeah, that's
the way she goes.

Good.

Stu, you feeling all right?

I feel a little queasy.

Take over a minute,
will you?
Yeah.

See how's the big boy doing.

Stick!

What's the matter?

I don't know.

Stu...

V.J., I...

Hello, Barstow Tower...

Mercury Transport...

Four-Two Tango...

emergency aboard.

Request... immediate clearance

to land...

Mayday, Mayday,

Mayday...

♪ ♪

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

There are other planes in the
search pattern, Mr. Green.

We should be able to find it.

Not much doubt about
what we'll find, is there?

A Mayday, a broken
radio contact--

it all adds up to the same
thing for all of them.

Let's give it a few
more minutes, huh?

Althea's going to come apart.

You see, Mr. Mannix,
we never had any children.

We couldn't.

I gave Sun and Sky to her

on our silver anniversary.

For her, he was like...

Mr. Green, look!

It's an old Army Air Force
landing strip.

Hey, Dave, take us down
for a closer look-see.

Roger.

Looks like it made
a perfect landing.

Floyd-- Floyd Brand,
one of my grooms.

He's alive.

Dave! Dave!

Get on the radio,
call the Barstow Tower.

Give them our position and tell
them to send over an ambulance

and call the police!

Roger.

The pilot and copilot
are still alive.

Stick Wilson, another
one of my grooms.

He's alive, too.

Sun and Sky and the pony
are gone.

Is there anybody missing

that was aboard the plane?

No.

You sure?

I watched them all go aboard.

It's my guess
this coffee's been doctored.

I'll get it checked.

You don't suppose they've
kidnapped Sun and Sky, do you?

Maybe holding him
for ransom?

I don't know,
could be.

Mr. Mannix,
I don't know

what the insurance company
is paying you

for this investigation,
but if you need...

Oh, they're paying me
enough, Mr. Green.

No, I mean, if you need
any extra manpower.

Oh, Thanks.
I'll let you
know if I do.

Well, I wish you'd just
give me the answer

to one question,
Mr. Mannix.

With those four men
unconscious,

who landed the airplane?

It was a stowaway.

Had to be.

We sure didn't put
that plane down.

You can tell your
insurance company--
whatever its name is...

Great Pacific.

Great Pacific-- that there was
a stowaway aboard that plane,

and that when we blacked out,
he landed the plane.

Now, wait a minute,
where did he stow away?

I don't know.
I don't know.

In the baggage compartment
or-or in the washroom, maybe.

Maybe in one of them
tack trunks.

Except, uh, they're only
about yea big.

Wouldn't hold more
than 60 pounds.

There're quite
a few places to hide

aboard a cargo plane,
Mr. Mannix.

All right, now, let's say
that we did have a stowaway

in the baggage compartment,
washroom, someplace.

Now, how did he get the...

chloral hydrate in the coffee?

The lab reports says

that the thermos was
loaded with the stuff.

All those papers
are lab findings?

That's right.

Also police reports.

Now, Great Pacific has
a half a million dollars

riding on Sun and Sky.

How did the stuff
get into the thermos?

It's my thermos, Mr. Mannix,

and Richmond bought the coffee

from the catering truck
at the airport.

I put it on the
airplane myself,

with the lunch hamper,
waiting for the horse van.

Somebody could have tampered
with the thermos.

The man on that catering truck--
was he the regular driver?

As a matter of fact, no.

He said the regular man
was down with a virus.

All right now, I'd like a
sequence of loading procedure.

Let's start with...

the first thing
this morning.

I guess it begins with me.

I got up at 4:30.

Ever notice, Mr. Mannix,

that them that's paid the least
gets up the earliest?

And then... I had my breakfast--
some cold spaghetti,

and a piece of lemon pie and...

It's what I had for dinner
the night before,

and I put it in my doggie bag.

Oh, and a glass of beer.

At 4:30 in the morning?

I just love lemon pie.

And then I started to feed
and curry down the big fella,

Sun and Sky.

And, uh, then Floyd
come by about 5:00.

And him and me
put the shipping pads on him

and then the horse van come by
at... at 7:00.

At 7:00?

Yeah, about 7:00.

So, we watched them
load the equipment.

You know, the tack trunks,
and the hay and the feed.

And then we loaded, uh, Sunny
and Alexander-- that's the pony.

Sunny won't go nowhere
without him.

And then what?

Well, that's about it until
we got out to the airport.

Like Mr. Green said,
they was already there,

the Greens and the TV people.

So we walked
Sunny and Alexander

while they loaded
the baggage on the plane,

and then we put
the horses on board.

That's right.
Yeah, that's right.

I went back to secure
the main cargo hatch

and told Stu that
everything was battened
down, and we took off.

It must have been
about a half hour
when Floyd came up sick.

And you all had a cup of coffee?

We always do.

And you all passed out
at about the same time?

V.J. and I were already
shaky when Floyd came up.

He collapsed and I passed out
right after that, too.

I realized we'd never make
Barstow, so I laid on a Mayday.

Now, what's the last thing
you saw?

The very last thing
you remember?

The sky turning upside down.

Well, excuse me.

More lab reports.

Hmm. All four men had enough
chloral hydrate in their systems

to knock them out for
at least 24 hours.

What do you have so far?

Would you buy a 60-pound
midget in a tack trunk

that could fly an airplane?

I don't think so.

Then I've got nothing.

Is this the final report?
Yeah.

No fingerprints?

Wiped clean.

The whole thing
was organized like D-day.

We did come up with one
police record, though.

Walter "Stick" Wilson, two
counts of drunk and disorderly,

and he also has a running battle
for nonsupport with his wife.

So, the guy has the moral
backbone of an ice-cream cone.

What about the others?

Solid citizens so far.

Military records?

Not in yet.

But I did learn something

that will make up
for the lack of fingerprints.

It's about the pilot,
Stu Marshall.

What about him?

A secretary
at the airline tipped me

to check
his last flight physical.

His eye test
was borderline.

He's getting his notice
at the end of the month.

Does he know about that?

Affirmative.

Yeah.

That gives us at least two men
who have money troubles.

Three, Mr. Mannix.

We couldn't help
but overhear you.

Althea and I talked it over,
and we decided it would be best

to come to you
with the information.

Information?

You come up
with another suspect?

Well, I guess you
might say that.

Us.

Those are the forms
for the disposal sale

of Green Tool and Die Works,
Mr. Mannix.

I made some investments
that backfired.

Now, we're in for
a period of belt-tightening

to satisfy the creditors, like
getting rid of Green Stables.

All except Sun and Sky,
of course.

Which means that, uh,
everyone who worked for you

will be out of a job, including
Stick Wilson and Floyd Brand.

Yes, everyone.

It wasn't an easy decision,
Mr. Mannix.

We had hoped

that Richmond could
get a fresh start

if Sun and Sky
won the Derby.

I see.

Well, um, all right, Mr. Green.

I'll get in touch with you the
minute I find out anything.

All right,
thank you, Mr. Mannix.

Oh, excuse me, dear.

Fine. Yes.

We just didn't want you
to think we arranged

the disappearance of
Sun and Sky for the insurance.

Uh-huh.

Thank you, Mr. Mannix.
Good-bye.

Yes, indeed.

Mr. Green.

Yes. Yes.

Fine. Thank you.

That was the regular driver
on the coffee truck.

And?

He said he woke up the other
morning, feeling just fine.

Then he got sick afterwards.

Someone hit him on the head.

Well, did he see anything?

Only what you see when
you get hit on the head.

Now, don't be a smart...

You know, it
doesn't make sense.

If the Greens needed money, why
didn't they just sell the horse?

He's worth a million...
twice the insurance.

Sell him? Now, you don't
understand the Greens.

They think that horse
has the same blood type they do.

When they call him Sunny,
they aren't kidding.

All right, tell me this, then.

No matter who stole the horse,
isn't he easily recognizable?

I mean, millions of people
have seen him

at the racetrack and on TV.

Now, millions of people
have seen a gray horse

called Sun and Sky.

You'd be surprised the
change a few gallons of dye

would have on a horse.

Especially if they've got him
stashed away in the toolies,

away from the tracks and TV.

No, thanks. I'm trying
to cut down, Peggy.

Hey, Mannix.
What do you say?

Well, Paddy.

Must be spring vacation
at San Quentin.

Aw, come on, Mannix.

I've been on the street
eight months now.

And I thought the
prevailing winds

were from across
the stockyard.

Will you listen to him?

Here I am trying
to be a good guy.

Here I am trying
to do you a favor.

I'll bet.

Uh, can we go
in your office and talk?

After you, Paddy.

This is your lucky day, Mannix.

Your lucky day.

All right, Paddy.

What brings you out
in the full sunlight?

Hardhead.

Why do you have
to be such a hardhead?

Okay, now listen.

I got a nice, clean, easy way
for you to pick up ten big ones.

I swear, ten thou
and no sweat.

Just a little
dishonest, huh?

Hmm, well... maybe.

Maybe a little
dishonest only.

Like... like... so much.

Out. Out.

Now, look.

Look, Joe,
this is the way it is.

You work too hard, Joe.

You gotta ease off.

Not exactly, uh, quit the Sun
and Sky business; just hold...

Just hold your punches

a little...
in the last round.

Oh, I see.

Okay?

Just how deep are you in this
horse stealing thing, Paddy?

Who, me?

Yeah, you.

Horses?

Aw, Joe, you know, I don't...

I don't know
nothing from horses.

I just beat on people, Joe.

Oh, and, uh, you'd beat on me

if I didn't go for the deal?

Uh... I'd have to.

I wouldn't like it.

Oh, Paddy, Paddy,

you gotta learn.

Now, if you're going to
play at being a good guy,

good guys don't
go into the tank.

Not even for ten big ones.

Oh, and Paddy,
remember this, too.

You try pounding on me,

and I'll belt you right
out of the Muggers Union.

Okay.

Your way, Joe.

Your way.

Mrs. Green.

Hello,
Mr. Mannix.

Is your
husband here?

Richmond is taking a telephone
call in the office.

Hmm.

Oh, do you know Mr. Dallas?

He's a friend
of ours.

Mr. Mannix, Mr. Dallas.

Hiya, young fella.

How do you do, sir?

Mr. Mannix is the investigator
for the insurance company.

Sure. Althea and Richmond have
been talking you up real good.

How you making out getting
back the wonder horse, son?

Got a long way to go,
Mr. Dallas.

Yeah, I imagine.

Althea...

you mind if I tell Mr. Mannix
what I said to you?

Oh, of course not.

Well, sir, it wasn't
but five minutes ago

that I said to Althea,
"Althea, don't you worry none.

"It's just the old ransom game
done up in different ribbons,

"but without a bill of sale,
Sun and Sky's worth nothing

to nobody but you folks."

Worth nothing?

Not one flat, red cent.

But Sun and Sky's won hundreds
of thousands of dollars.

Yeah, it's a bushel of money
and a barrel of racing records,

but it don't mean a thing.

Know much
about horse racing, son?

Well, I'm learning.

Well, let me give
you a free lesson.

Now, the Thoroughbred
Protective Association

puts a number to every horse
that runs in this country.

Now, you can't see it,

'cause it's inside
his mouth, on his lip.

But it's there, and
it's easy to find

if you're looking for it.

It seems like a pretty
neat precaution.

Why, a man can't walk a horse
around the corner

without someone
checking on that number.

And Sunny's got his tattoo
on his lip,

same as every other
registered thoroughbred.

Hmm.

Mr. Dallas...

Sam.

You said every horse
that runs in this country.

Now, isn't it possible that
they could ship Sun and Sky

say to, uh, South America
or Europe and race him there?

Could, could, sure.

But he's still got that tattoo,
hasn't he?

Mm.

Now, if a vet
or a track examiner

was to open his mouth, bingo.

There's that old tattoo.

Now, it just takes a
check in the records

or a telephone call
to identify him.

Now, Sunny's maybe
one of the greatest horses

ever to set foot on a track,

but still and all, he's not
worth a flat, red cent.

What time you got, son?

Um, it's half past.

Oh, my, got to get a shake on,
or I'll get left at the post.

Well, it's good to meet you,
young fella.

Pleasure.

Take care now, Althea, you hear?

Just wait them out.

They got to come to you
sooner or later.

Anything for you, sir?

Uh, no, thanks.

It seems like
he knows his horses.

It hasn't done him
much good, poor Sam.

Poor Sam?
Mm.

For years, hard luck
has dogged his heels

like a hound dog.

Richmond says
that if Sam Dallas

had been born a gardener,

he would have
a brown thumb.

He's been a breeder of horses
and a trainer for years.

The better part of his life.

But every time he got
a good prospect,

the horse would
fracture a sesamoid,

go lame or fall down
at the starting gate.

He lost his own place years ago.

I've been told that he's
managing a horse farm

in Quail Valley
or some place.

I have a hunch that he wanted

to borrow some money
from Richmond.

Obviously, he hadn't
heard about us.

Althea.

Hello, Mr. Mannix.

Well, it happened.

I got the phone call and the
instructions for ransom.

What did they say?

Well, it was pretty
strange, actually.

Strange?

First off, it was a girl.

That was a shock
to begin with.

She wants me to put the money
in a plain grocery bag

and take it down to
an alley on Pier Avenue.

I know where that is.

There's an old
movie house there.

I'm to take the money
to them tonight at 12:00

and put it
in a special trash can.

Did they say anything
about Sunny?

Anything at all?

He's all right, Althea.

They said he's all right.

What do you think,
Mr. Mannix?

Well, first of all,
Mr. Green,

you won't be delivering
this money; it'll be me.

And what's this number
at the bottom?

That's what I don't understand.

That's the ransom.

Ransom for the greatest horse
that ever set foot on a track?

$753?

Whoa...

Oh, wow.

Like I said, Joe...

your way.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Where am I?

You, uh...

You the one who made that phone
call to... Richmond Green?

Yes.

Well...

Let me, uh... let me
give you a little clue.

Now, at this moment, the way
that thing stacks up is this:

That's two to 14 years...
grand theft...

horse.
Hey...

We didn't steal any horse.

Yeah, we read about it
in the newspaper.

We don't know
where he is.

The phone call was only
in protest to a society

that valued a horse
at a million dollars

and the soul
of a man at pittance.

We were wrong.

We know that now.

You trying to tell me that

you had nothing
to do with, uh...

the disappearance
of that horse?

No way.

Nor do we want the money.

You can have it back.

Look, we're sorry
for inspiring violence.

But we did save you
from those men.

You, uh...

Flower children pulled
those gorillas off of me?

Lazarus blew his police whistle.

Berkeley police, 1966.

You tore the shirt
off one of them.

We found this in the
street after they ran.

Hmm.

Old acquaintance.

Your, uh, your car is
right where you left it.

Will you be all right?

Groovy, groovy, groovy.

Uh...

Tell me something... meditators.

Why $753, huh?

I mean... what kind of
ransom is that?

It's a very beautiful number.

Lazarus composed it.

More coffee, Mrs. Green?

No, thank you, Peggy.

Morning.

It is morning,
isn't it?

Sure is.

Are you all right?

Reasonably.

The money!

You didn't give it...

Well, it was a phony call
but helpful.

What happened?

An old acquaintance
of mine

and a couple of his lodge
brothers decided

on giving me a sort
of initiation.

Saved by flower power.

My friend Paddy Wright
left his calling card.

Maintains a very
casual filing list.

There's a, uh, number there,
Peggy.

Uh, with S. D. behind it.

Give it a call, huh?

S.D.?

Sam Dallas?

Why, you don't
think, uh...

I'll let you know.
What are your plans?

Well, uh, the Paddock Club
for lunch.

Good. I'll, uh...

I'll get in touch
with you.

All right.

See you later.

Line's busy.

Well, keep
trying

and then call
the cab company

and tell them to pick
me up in the alley in
about ten minutes.

A cab, in the alley?

Yep.

Paddy Wright's been following me
ever since yesterday.

Found him following me again
this morning.

Where I'm going now,

I'd just as soon have him
think I'm still here.

Where are you going?

Tattoo parlor
at 4431 Ogden.

You're next.

It ain't
the Sistine Chapel,

but you ain't paying
Michelangelo's prices.

Hmm.

I didn't figure you for a ship.

You know, frankly, I didn't
come here to get stained.

Assuming it ain't
some kind of flake

or collecting
for charity,

what did you come for?

What did you
come for?

I'd like a short history
on tattooing.

For a ten spot, you get the
first page, the first page.

Okay, then how about
a couple of questions?

First, what kind of
a tattoo did you put
on Paddy Wright?

Easy. None.

None.
Question two:

If he didn't come here
for a tattoo, why
did he come here?

This, uh, receipt's got
your name on it?

Well, like it says,

I did a job of
work for him.

He paid me
a hundred.

Out of town
somewhere.

Where?

I was blindfolded,
blindfolded.

Not when you were
using the needle.

It was out in the sticks.

Nothing around.

I get six blocks
from here, I...

I might as well be in Iceland,
might as well be in Iceland.

What kind of a tattoo job
did you do?

They paid me a hundred,
a hundred.

As an artist.

The answer's worth 20.

You won't believe it.

Try me.

It's a horse.

I tattooed a horse.

And then
they made our friend lie down

in the back seat of the car
until they drove into the barn.

That's when he saw
the black horse.

They've changed his color.

It looks that way.

And then, uh, our friend

was shown a lip tattoo
and asked to alter it.

They had their own
needles, probably stolen
from the race track.

Oh, uh, Mr. Green,

do you remember the, uh,
tattoo registration number

on Sun and Sky?

2K178.

Well, that's it!

Well, you've
found him!

And, uh, the tattoo artist

also gave me a pretty fair
description of the men.

One of them was a fellow
called Paddy Wright.

The other was a fellow called,
uh, Sam Dallas.

Oh, now, Mr. Mannix.
I find that hard to believe.

Sorry. It fits.

Yeah, Peggy?

The employment
and military records

of the four men
in the plane are here.

Oh, thanks. Bring it in, huh?

Sam Dallas would never
take a horse for ransom.

Not Sam!

Thanks.

Now, don't be too sure
about Sam Dallas, Mr. Green.

Now, these are the
military records

on the four men
in the plane.

Oh, by the way, Mrs. Green,

you mentioned that Dallas
managed a horse farm someplace.

Do you remember where that was?

No. No, I don't.

Richmond, do you?

No. I'm sorry, Mr. Mannix.

Well, Sam Dallas
has a black horse

with a new registration number.

Now, if my guess
is right,

he'll try and ship him
out as fast as he can.

But if we're lucky,

he's still somewhere
in Quail Valley.

Somewhere
in a 10,000-acre area.

Well, maybe these records
will tell us something.

Hmm.

Two of the men had Air Force
training as pilots.

V.J. Stander, fighter pilot,

transferred
to multiengine in '66.

Stu Marshall,
never in military service.

Floyd Brand...

Floyd Brand--

bomber pilot
until October, 1954,

now carries commercial ticket!

Floyd!

Yeah, that's our parlay,
Mr. Green,

Sam Dallas and Floyd Brand!

Now, let's see if any of these
places of previous employment

on Brand sound familiar
to you, huh?

1957 to 1961,
Jay-Mist Farms.

Kentucky.

1961 to '63 Hialeah
Race Track,

1963 to August '64,
Fleetway Stables.

Ooh, that's just outside
San Francisco.

1964 August to
January 1965,

Crown Ranch.

I think that's it, Richmond,
Crown Ranch.

Yes, I believe
it is.

Yes, Quail Valley!

Crown Ranch and Quail Valley--

well, that ought to give us
enough to go on.

Yeah, well, now, Mr. Mannix,

even if Floyd Brand does
have a pilot license,

wasn't he full of chloral
hydrate when that plane landed?

No.

No, not until after it landed.

Now, the way I figure it,
he doctored that coffee,

then pretended to pass out.

He just waited
there on the floor

until everybody else
was unconscious,

got into Stu Marshall's
pilot seat

and landed
the plane.

Then he put the chloral hydrate

into his own coffee,
drank it and passed out,

while his pals unloaded Sun
and Sky off the plane.

Did you ever see anything
like him, Floyd, ever?

Ever?

No, sure haven't.

You go get
that bridle.

Don't you think
I ought to go get the pony?

You know he ain't gonna
load without him.

No, Paddy
will bring in Alexander.

You just go get
that bridle.

Pay dirt.

Easy, boy.

Ooh, easy, Alexander.

Attaboy.

Hey, Whitey!

I'm gonna get the pony.

Haha-ha! Haha!

Dallas!

Dallas!

The pony!

Hey, get the pony!

Dallas!

Dallas!

And I was beginning to think
you didn't get my message.

I got the message.

Richmond, you bought your way
into horse racing.

You never really knew it.

You never sat up all night,

working down an ankle, swelling
on your only horse's leg

so he could run
the next day!

And you never sweated
out a claiming race

or borrowed entry money.

And you wouldn't know
about selling your watch

to pay the feed bill

for a bunch
of outclass platers.

Sam...

And, Richmond,
the real bedrock

of horse racing
is breeding.

You start with a stud
horse like Sunny,

and you pick
your broodmares

so as to build
a perfect line.

It's a natural--

fine-breeding, good-
size, easy-moving.

He's everything
I ever dreamed of

and couldn't pay for.

He was Sam Dallas's
only chance

to make his mark
in the world.

Sam...

Richmond, you
don't understand.

You never did,

and you never will!

Hey, Dallas...

Shut up!

Yeah, yeah.

Thanks, Mr. Mannix.