Original subtitles

Manni...

Mannix.

Hi, Joe.

You again.

Yeah. Who else?

What do you want?

You know, you're taking quite a chance, aren't you?

Now, how'd you know it was safe to pick up that phone?

Now, look, either you tell me who you are or get lost.

You're beginning to bore me.

Now, you're not really bored, Joe.

You don't sound bored.

Come on, come on. What do you want?

All I ever wanted.

Justice.

What's that got to do with me?

Everything.

You know you've got to pay me back for what you did to me.

What did I do to you?

Come on, Joe.

You know.

Pay you back, how?

Well, for openers...

why don't you start making funeral arrangements.

♪♪

Mannix.

Oh, hey, fellow, I forgot to mention it.

If I were you, I wouldn't sit in your desk chair.

Thanks for the warning.

Of course if you had,

I guess you wouldn't be talking to me now, would you?

Oh, it's not a warning.

Sudden death would be a little too easy for you.

Way too easy.

♪♪

Whoever planted this either miscalculated

or he never intended to kill anybody.

A trip wire, huh?

Pressure-sensitive fuse.

You find any more of them?

Three. And we're still looking.

Mm...

Well, there doesn't seem to be any sign of concussion.

What about this arm?

You play the violin?

Why?

This won't help you play it any better.

Nothing serious.

Any notion about who might have done it, Joe?

So far, just a voice on the phone wanting justice.

Somebody you helped put away, maybe?

Unless you've got a better idea.

Doesn't that give you some kind of a lead?

Would you like to go through my files for the past seven years?

What about the voice?

Recognize any speech patterns?

Anything odd about the way he sounded?

Well, he, uh, he sounded playful.

That's why, until tonight,

I just figured he was another crackpot.

How long has he been calling you?

12 days now.

Why didn't you tell me?

Come on, Art.

A private detective's life is like a public towel.

Everybody wipes his hands on him.

If I reported every crackpot that called...

So far, we've dismantled three booby traps.

You could have been blinded, had your hand blown off.

Somebody obviously has enough of a grudge against you

to go to all this trouble.

But not enough to want to kill you.

Maybe it's some kind of a warning for you to lay off.

Are you working on a case

somebody wants you to stay away from?

Oh, no, this joker is strictly out to kill me.

Only, not just yet.

Don't ask me why.

Why?

Good morning.

Good morning, Joe.

You must have had some party here last night.

Yeah, did get a little out of hand.

Wasn't, by any chance, your friendly phone caller?

Guess he wasn't just a harmless crank after all.

Joe, how did he get in here?

Eh, who knows?

Peggy, what's on my appointment schedule this morning?

Oh, Joe, you're not going to pretend

that it's business as usual.

You need protection!

And the landlord needs his rent.

Life goes on.

Until it stops.

My appointments?

What's a five-letter word for a psychological aberration?

"Crazy."

Yeah, it fits.

That's what you are, you know that?

You're crazy.

Hadn't given it much thought.

Mr. McCulloch called yesterday.

He wants you to come to his home,

and here's his address.

Voilà.

Who is he?

He owns an electronics firm in El Segundo.

But I can cancel it if you like.

No thanks, Peg.

Oh, what about the car?

Bomb squad checked it out last night.

Clean.

Mannix.

Hi, Joe. I'm your Mr. McCulloch.

I guess I won't be needing you today after all.

Oh, you're getting to be a real barrel of laughs, aren't you?

Oh, listen, by the way,

you might check your glove compartment.

Now, don't worry, it's not wired.

- Hi. - Hi.

Call Larry Watson's garage.

Tell him I need a new windshield.

No Mr. McCulloch, right?

A setup.

Oh, Joe, I'm sorry.

I should have checked it out further.

Well, it's not a total loss.

He left me a souvenir.

Oh, Joe, he really means business.

Well, if he doesn't, he's got a great sense of humor.

Do you know when this was taken?

That, uh, tie I'm wearing... You recognize it?

It's the one I got for your birthday.

Two years ago. I wore it every day for a week,

until that pretty young lady with the long legs

and the short fuse spilled coffee on it.

Then we gave it to a rummage sale.

Where it sold for 50 cents.

Peggy, get me my appointment book for that week.

Maybe he left us a clue we can follow.

Here it is, Joe.

Three days as an industrial security consultant.

Don't remind me.

And that extortion case.

You nailed a man by the name of Ira Beecher.

Joe, I remember the trial.

Beecher swore he'd get you if it was the last thing he ever did.

Ira Beecher got out six months ago, Joe.

He went home to Santa Marta and got into trouble there, too.

Extortion again?

Something with a little more class to it.

A hunting accident.

He shot a man named Tom O'Connor,

a newspaper reporter from L.A. who was up there on vacation.

But he turned himself right in, copped a plea,

got six months for manslaughter.

Still in jail?

No, he was released two weeks ago... good behavior.

Why?

I got a hunch he's been keeping himself pretty busy.

♪♪

Excuse me. Sheriff in?

Uh, yeah, right in there.

Thanks.

Mannix, right?

Right.

Lieutenant Malcolm from L.A.P.D. called me about you.

Anything I can do to help out?

Yeah, Sheriff, uh, you know a man named Ira Beecher?

I'm the one that sent him away.

I hear he's out now.

That's a fact.

What's he doing?

At the rate you fellas charge for your time,

you must be on to something pretty big, huh?

You know where I might find Beecher?

Well, he hasn't got a wife,

and he hasn't got a house with a kitchen in it,

and there's just one coffee shop in town.

Man's got to eat.

Doesn't take much detective work to figure that one out.

Thanks, Sheriff.

Hey,

you didn't come all the way up here

to talk to a small-time punk like him, did you?

Yeah, for a start.

Charlie?

See that fellow, there?

Name's Mannix.

Says he came all the way from LA to talk to Beecher.

You keep an eye on him.

See that he don't trip over his shoelaces

or something like that.

And how're you today?

Well, that depends.

On what?

Your answer to a question.

Oh, well, uh,

I don't get off till 7:00,

but I never go out with new customers.

My loss.

What I really wanted to know

is what time does Ira Beecher usually come in?

He doesn't.

Not anymore.

The Sheriff told me I could find him here, sooner or later.

Mm-hmm, well, folks in this town liable to say a lot of things.

Something wrong?

Mister, there's people in this world

you could set your clock by

how surely something always goes wrong.

People like Ira Beecher?

My mother always said he was trash,

a born loser.

In and out of jail all his life,

but, um, he had these big ideas, you know.

I thought he'd be my one-way ticket

out of this hole-in-the-wall

What sort of "big ideas"?

Who are you?

Maybe I could help him.

He's already been helped.

By whom?

Ain't but one person in this town can help anybody.

Who's that?

The boss-lady at the Bullard Ranch.

Owns everything and everyone.

Last time Ira got out, she gave him back his old job.

Don't ask me why.

Man just out of jail for killing a man.

What do you want to see him about?

Well, uh, he once made me a promise.

I want to talk to him about it.

Oh, fat chance of him ever keeping a promise.

I take it he made one to you?

Yeah.

Fresh out of the cooler,

he comes stomping in here like he had the world up his sleeve.

Only I guess a-a marriage certificate

wasn't part of it.

You were engaged?

I waited for him all these years, didn't I?

But, uh, he had big plans.

Gonna move to LA

and live in a big house with a front lawn,

and, uh,

I guess I wasn't good enough for him anymore.

Where can I find him?

Like I said, he's working for the Bullard Ranch.

Ask them.

Howdy, looking for somebody?

Mrs. Bullard.

On what business?

Personal.

Well, if it's personal, you can talk to me.

Who are you?

Her husband.

I thought Mr. Bullard was dead.

I'm her new husband.

Name's Lee Traherne.

You?

The name is Mannix.

I'm a private investigator.

I'm looking for Ira Beecher.

Why?

I said private investigator.

This way.

Her name is Mrs. Traherne now.

Honey?

Got a fellow here that says he's a private cop.

Mr. Mannix, my wife.

How do you do?

How do you do, Mr. Mannix?

Won't you come in?

He wants to ask you about Ira.

Ira? Whatever for?

If you've got one of your headaches,

you don't have to talk to him if you don't want to.

It's all right; I don't mind.

Please sit down, Mr. Mannix.

Thank you.

Now, what is it that you're investigating around here?

Oh, nothing, really.

I just came to see Ira Beecher.

I understand he's working for you.

Yes.

The poor man, he was so bitter and filled with hatred

when he came out of prison,

and I-I just wanted him to know

that all of his friends hadn't turned their backs on him.

That's very understanding of you.

Yes.

I understand men.

I always did.

I think they appreciate being understood, don't you?

Oh, by all means.

Where can I find Mr. Beecher?

Well, he didn't really come to work this morning

and having just moved into a new place,

I doubt whether he has a telephone yet.

Do you have his address?

Well, it's someplace in town.

I didn't ask.

Actually, I...

I wouldn't have any reason to go and visit him, now would I?

No, I guess not.

I think you'd better be going, Mr. Mannix.

You can tell how my wife isn't feeling too well.

I'm sorry.

Well, uh,

thanks for seeing me, Mrs. Traherne.

I'm-I'm only sorry that I couldn't be some real help.

It's quite all right.

Mr. Mannix?

You said you were looking for Ira Beecher?

That's right.

He's at Moody's Hotel.

He didn't show up for work today.

Do you have any idea why?

Yeah, my mother fired him two days ago.

Your mother?

I'm Kirk Bullard.

Your mother didn't mention she'd fired him.

You know how it is.

We've got us a nice quiet town here.

Mother doesn't like anybody stirring up ghosts.

What sort of ghosts?

I'd just as soon Beecher told you himself.

Has it anything to do with Tom O'Connor,

the reporter Ira killed in that hunting accident?

Man can't be a ghost unless he's dead, right?

Was O'Connor really just vacationing here,

or was he on a story?

I'm sorry, Mr. Mannix.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Mannix, I don't recollect asking you to hang around.

I thought maybe one of the hired hands

could tell me where Beecher was living.

That is not one of the hired hands.

What'd he tell you?

That Ira Beecher had been fired.

That's right, and I fired him.

You?

I don't let anybody upset my wife

for any reason whatsoever.

I'll keep that in mind.

♪♪

Just a minute.

Yeah?

Does Ira Beecher live here?

That's right.

I got his luggage,

and he ain't going nowhere till his rent's paid up.

Well, I didn't come here to carry him off.

I just wanted to talk to him.

First apartment, head of the stairs.

Thanks.

You killed him.

An unarmed man.

In cold blood.

♪♪

I don't understand, Mannix.

You're a professional.

How can a thing like that happen to you?

Like I told you... I was going up the stairs.

He fired two shots at me.

I fired back.

Yeah? What'd he use for a gun?

Mrs. Moody, how many shots did you hear?

Only shot I heard was him shooting at Ira.

I'll tell you again, Sheriff.

Ira shot at me first.

Why?

Well, I can only guess.

A couple of years ago, I sent him to jail.

At the time, he swore to get even.

So you figured you'd better get him first.

Now, let's get one thing straight, Sheriff.

Ira Beecher fired two shots at me first.

I did not mean to kill him.

It was self-defense.

Then how come the only shot Mrs. Moody heard was yours?

I'm sure she had a good reason.

Or a sudden hearing loss.

Now, looky here, mister.

All right, all right.

Give me your car keys.

Put the cuffs on him, Charley.

Now, wait a minute.

There's got to be a couple of bullet holes

in that wall where he shot at me.

All right, let's see.

Go.

Would you like to show me where the bullets went in?

Well, that's beautiful.

I was suckered into killing him.

What's that supposed to mean?

He wasn't alone down there in that room.

Who was with him?

Somebody who knew Ira threatened to get me once.

Probably convinced Ira I came to town to kill him,

gave him a gun and said he'd better get me first.

Why no bullet holes?

Well, that's pretty obvious, isn't it, Sheriff?

There were blanks in the gun he was given.

Ira was meant to get killed.

If you can get a jury to believe

all of that, Mannix, it's okay with me.

Sheriff, who do you know in this town

that might have wanted Ira Beecher dead

badly enough to set me up?

Let's go.

Take the car. Bring some help.

- He won't get far. - Right.

What do you want?

I suppose you heard about Ira.

I'm sorry, Mona.

Somebody in this town needed Ira dead

badly enough to set me up as the middleman.

All I know is you shot him.

I swear it was rigged.

Your gun killed him.

I thought he was shooting at me.

It was self-defense.

You expect me to believe that?

It's the truth.

Now, think, Mona.

Who in this town had reason to want Ira killed?

I don't know.

Probably lots of people.

What made you come back here?

You think I'd help you?

Well, uh, could I at least use your telephone?

You've used me enough.

I wish I'd never set eyes on you.

♪♪

♪♪

Man, you've sure got a lot of good folks

howling for your blood.

Relax. Hop in.

I'm on your side.

Which side is that?

You'll find out when the time comes.

I don't know if I can trust you.

Well, I'm hardly in a position to get you into any trouble.

You never can tell.

Tell me, uh...

what story was Tom O'Connor digging up

when someone mistook him for a deer

on property belonging to your mother.

And to Lee Traherne.

Does that mean he had something to hide?

Can't imagine what.

Unless it had something to do with my old man's death.

How did he die?

Cattle stampede.

Best horseman in the county.

Fell off his horse and got stomped.

Now, you believe that, you'll believe anything.

What do you believe?

That he was helped off his horse

by a shot from a rifle.

Didn't the coroner find the bullet?

Seemed that nobody told the coroner

to look for a bullet.

And he's not a man who will scratch

where it doesn't itch.

Well, I was away at college at the time.

And when you came home?

I saw Lee Traherne doing his best

to console my mother, and I drew my own conclusions

that maybe he had something to do with my father's death.

Did you tell your mother what you thought?

That what you'd have done, Mr. Mannix?

So you tipped off Tom O'Connor instead.

Yeah.

And he went to the coroner.

He asked for the body to be exhumed.

He even threatened to call the state attorney general.

Well, later that afternoon, by a remarkable coincidence,

he was found in the woods.

He seemed accidentally to have leaned

against a bullet going past.

And Ira Beecher nobly took the fall.

Why?

Some people like money.

And why was Ira Beecher killed?

If he saw my father being shot,

now, that would be worth good money.

Might have even made him greedier

when he came out of jail and the best he could get

was his old job back and some extra pocket money.

Only... the only trouble was...

What?

My mother was the only person

who knew that I had talked to a reporter.

You think she helped Traherne all along?

You're going to have to make it on your own from here in.

Sheriff's car is right behind us.

Now, look, when he pulls up on my side,

I'll slow down and you jump.

You ready?

Ready.

Okay, here he comes.

Go.

♪♪

Mona, please.

Ain't you brought me enough grief already?

Mona, I don't know who else can help me.

Tough.

I feel for you.

Mona, I think I have a pretty good idea now

why certain people needed Ira dead.

What do I care?

He was nothing to me anymore.

Wasn't he?

Don't you want to see the people responsible

brought to justice?

By you?

If you help me.

I'm scared.

I don't have Ira anymore, but I still have my life.

Mona, if those people aren't put away,

you'll go on being scared, and with good reason.

All right.

What do you want to know?

Now, I think Tom O'Connor

was killed because he was on to something.

And I think Ira was paid to take the rap.

He always had a hard time saying no to people.

Except to me.

Where was Ira when Tom O'Connor was killed?

Do you know?

With me.

Why didn't you tell the police?

'Cause I...

I loved him and he told me to keep my mouth shut.

Now I'm stuck with the lie.

If I talk, they'll send me to jail.

Mona...

who paid Ira to take the rap?

If he got paid, where's the money?

He sure didn't spend it on me or on himself.

Uh, maybe they'll splurge it on his funeral.

You said when Ira got out of jail he had big plans.

Was he blackmailing somebody?

Why didn't you ask him before you shot him?

Mona, it was a frame.

Whoever Ira was blackmailing set me up to kill him.

To make it look like a grudge killing.

No questions asked, case closed.

I think you'd better go.

And keep right on going until you get

as far as you can from this town,

or we'll both end up like Ira or that reporter.

Ira saw Old Man Bullard get shot, didn't he?

Is that why he was blackmailing Lee Traherne?

Ira was a born loser.

That's why him and me were two of a kind.

Go out through the bedroom window.

Turn right and keep running.

Thanks, Mona.

Mona! Open up.

Come on, make it easy on yourself.

He's not in here.

No sign of him.

Mona, you're in big trouble, baby.

I'd like to use your phone.

No.

It goes through the switchboard.

The operator would know you're calling from my house.

There's a pay phone at the bus stop.

Thanks.

Only do me one favor.

Don't come back.

♪♪

Operator.

Operator, I want to call Los Angeles.

555-double-6, double-4.

Hello.

I have a collect call from Santa Marta.

A Mr. Joe Mannix.

I'll accept the charges, Operator.

Joe.

Peggy.

Joe, do you know what time it is?

And where are you?

I've been trying to reach you all day.

Now listen:

Call Art Malcolm, tell him I'm in Santa Marta.

I'm being hunted.

I've been framed for murder.

What?!

Well, what about the local police?

For all I know, they're in on it.

I'll call Art right away.

Mannix, your three minutes are up.

Kirk, I'm... I'm worried about you.

You've been acting so odd lately.

Have I?

There is nothing wrong here.

All right, yes, yes, your father died.

But you still belong here.

The only difference is that now

you have a mother and a stepfather

who love you and want you here.

I don't want you to forget that.

How could I?

Then why have you been acting so strangely,

as if... as if you were harboring

heaven knows what... Some guilty secret.

What might that guilty secret be, Mother?

How could I know?

Maybe there isn't any secret.

Of course there isn't.

As far as I know.

I suppose this is just an adolescent bid

for attention on your part.

- A cry for love. - Exactly.

How did anybody ever get along before they invented psychology?

Leave it alone, Kirk.

Do you hear me?

I hear you.

Darling...

it's infinitely flattering

for a mother to know that her son still loves her.

But this... this jealousy of my new husband,

this distrust...

I don't know how to explain it, except that it's unhealthy.

Yes, Mother.

Kirk, you are a very disturbed young man.

You going to have me put away?

Is this the shortcut to the sheriff's office?

The sheriff'll turn up when we want him.

First, my wife and I would like to know

why you'd come all this way

just to kill some poor little fella, fresh out of jail.

Now move.

This way.

Seems we have company.

Kirk, you're excused.

Kirk!

Coffee?

I understand you found the man that you were after.

He did better than that, honey.

He killed him.

The sheriff's looking for him all over the place.

Well, then why did you bring him here?

I thought you might like to talk to him first.

Why?

He seems to have some doubts

about the, uh, naturalness of Mr. Bullard's death.

Well, he's quite right.

It was an unnatural death.

My late husband was a superb horseman.

Mr. Mannix harbors the notion that Mr. Bullard was shot.

And that Mr. O'Connor, the reporter, found out,

so naturally, we had to get rid of him as well.

And Ira Beecher.

You were the one that called me in L.A.

pretending to be Beecher, booby-trapped my office,

all to get me up here to kill him for you

after he started blackmailing you.

It almost worked, too.

Oh, and that gun with the blanks... neat touch.

My!

We are desperate characters...

aren't we?

But what would make poor Ira Beecher so anxious

to take full responsibility for Mr. O'Connor's death?

Is it possible, Mr. Mannix, that maybe he had something to hide?

I guess you made it worth his while or thought you had.

Maybe he saw something he figured was worth more money

than he'd been promised.

And what might that have been?

The shooting of Mr. Bullard.

But Mr. Bullard wasn't shot.

We'll know that when his body is exhumed.

On whose authority?

Well, not your sheriff's.

I know you've got a leash on him.

But I don't think you'll be able

to pay off the State Attorney General's Office.

Mr. Mannix, your unfortunate profession

has given you a warped view of the human soul.

I don't think I like you very much.

And if you'll excuse me, I have many things to do.

Mrs. Traherne...

when your, uh, husband caught me,

I was on the phone to my secretary.

Very soon there'll be someone here from the state police,

someone who's not in your pocket.

Is that true? Did he get to make a call?

He may have gotten through.

I'm not sure.

Well, then, it's obvious what has to be done.

That's what I figured.

I do love you, darling.

Help!

Straight ahead and to your left!

Get him!

Don't you shoot him unless you have to!

Let the sheriff do it!

♪♪

We got a call from L.A.

Any sign of Mannix yet?

State Highway Patrol. Identify yourself.

My name is Mannix.

The man following me is trying to kill me.

All right, let's go.

Your father loved this place.

Take care of it.

Well, I guess it's up to you, Kirk.

Yeah.