Diagnosis Murder (1993–2001): Season 2, Episode 13 - The Bela Lugosi Blues - full transcript

(crickets chirping)

(dogs barking in distance)

(panting)

♪ ♪

(grunts, yells)

(man screaming)

(heart monitor beeping)

(heart monitor flatlining)

(theme song playing)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪



Officer Sloan.

You wanted to see
me? Morning, Dad.

In the mood to
play a little game?

Uh, if it doesn't include
any running and jumping.

How about "Stump the
Medical Consultant"?

Sounds like fun.

Where do we start?

Studio City Park.

Some joggers found a man,

apparently the
victim of a mugging.

No money, no wallet,
no identification.

"Male, Caucasian, 40s,

"died from massive
head and neck trauma

administered by a blunt object."



Well, unfortunate, but
that's fairly routine stuff.

Read on, MacDuff.

"Victim profoundly anemic.

"Massive loss of blood.

"No signs of hemorrhaging

in cranial cavity."

No hemorrhaging
in cranial cavity?

That's not possible

in a wound like that.

There was no blood
at the scene, either.

Well, maybe he killed
him somewhere else

and dumped him in the park.

Seems like a awful lot of work
for a run-of-the-mill mugging.

Then there's this.

Found it a few
feet from the victim.

DELORES: Uh-huh.

Now...

that ought to do it.

All right, I'm ready
for the tie. (chuckles)

What's going on here?

Nothing. Big doings.

Big pants for big doings, huh?

Oh, the rental place
sent over the wrong size.

Hey, don't start in.

Don't be so modest.

Doc was voted one of
L.A.'s most eligible bachelors.

Oh, why are you
telling her? Really?

Yes, I did. I mean,
it's no big thing.

Just-just forget about it, okay?

AMANDA: Forget about
it? Not on your life, Jack.

Let's see, that's quite
an accomplishment.

Honored for not being
able to make a commitment.

(mock laughing): She's funny.

Don't you have a body to cut up

in the basement somewhere?

I prefer cutting you up.

Now, pray tell, why didn't
you share this glorious news

with all of us?

Because I didn't know about it

till it was too late.

DELORES: Somebody
sent Jack's picture and bio

to the magazine
sponsoring the event.

And who could have done that?

Dr. Stewart, you're
not ready yet?

The presentation is in
one hour, and I want to get

some pictures of you under
the Community General sign.

Asked and answered.

Excuse me?

You entered Jack in
this bachelor bake-off?

Of course I did.

It's a tremendous P.R.
opportunity for the hospital.

Who knows? He might be
selected Bachelor of the Year.

Sort of like
Playmate of the Year.

(laughing)

Yes, exactly.
Norman, I hate this.

I really do. I just,
I'm not enjoying this

for a second.
Dr. Stewart, Dr. Stewart,

where is your team spirit?

Besides, I thought you
wanted a certain adjustment

in your schedule to get a week
off so you could wing to Hawaii

with that charmer in Pediatrics.

Yeah, I did, Norman,
but I didn't know

this was the price I
was gonna have to pay.

Well, it is. Now,
hurry up. We're late.

AMANDA: We? We?

He's my date.

(laughing) Oh, you two
look so handsome together.

Mm!

MAN: Gentlemen, look around.

I didn't just fall off a
truckload of pumpkins

and land in all this clover.

I know the value
of my own property.

(men laughing)

And I don't know how
to say it any plainer:

Terry Broadhurst is going
to be starting running back

just the way he's been
for the past four years.

He and I aren't fussing,

fighting or feuding.

(men laughing)

If we were, do you think
I'd allow him to be one of

L.A.'s most eligible bachelors
in my own magazine?

(men laughing)

Now, no more
talk about football.

We're here to
launch this magazine.

And after all the free food
and drink I've plied you with,

I'd better get some good press.

Or I might have to raise
ticket prices to cover my losses.

(men laughing)

Mr. Bock, I'm Norman Briggs.

Of course you are.

Put your hand away,
Norman; he's gone.

WOMAN: Dr. Stewart?

Moriah Thomas.

Editor of Empire magazine.

I had the delightful duty

of personally
selecting our finalists.

Oh.

So I have you to
thank for this, huh?

BRIGGS: Miss Thomas,

Norman Briggs.

Charmed, Mr. Briggs.

I want you to scoot behind
these curtains so they'll have

the full impact of
your introduction.

Oh, I got to tell you, I, uh...

I really, really hate this.

But... for you...

Ladies and gentlemen,

may I have your
attention, please?

Now that you've
sampled the appetizers,

I think it's time you
feasted on the main course.

Each of these delectable
morsels has established himself

in a particular field.

From the world of finance,
we have Roger Nelson.

(applause)

The field of law

brings us Philip Lerman.

(applause)

Medicine is well represented
by Dr. Jack Stewart.

Entertainment
brings us Vic Danton.

(applause)

And finally, the star

running back of the L.A.
Flames: Terry Broadhurst.

(applause)

And there you have it,
ladies and gentlemen.

Five of the most
eligible bachelors

in Los Angeles, courtesy
of Empire magazine.

(applause)

(piano playing riff)

(piano playing slowly)

You're quite something, Doctor.

I think I'll save
you for dessert.

You'd better be careful.

I may be fattening.

I know a wonderful
way to burn off calories.

Really?

Medically proven.

And what might that be?

May I?

Uh...

You know, actually,
I got a, um...

I got an early day tomorrow.

Good night.

Enjoy.

All right, you happy, Norman?

I mentioned the name
"Community General" 14 times.

14 times. That's all?

Yeah, that's all. Come on.

Maybe we'll run into Barbara
Walters on the way home.

Not one woman
looked at me tonight.

Any guys?

♪ Looking for the lights ♪

♪ Of a new love ♪

♪ To brighten up the nights ♪

BOTH: ♪ I have you love ♪

♪ We can face the music ♪

BOTH: ♪ Together ♪

♪ Dancing in ♪

♪ The dark ♪

Are you hungry?

Not for food.

I'm famished.

My bedroom's at
the top of the stairs,

first door on the left.

I'll be waiting.

(humming)

(chandelier jingling)

(Danton screaming)

MARK: "Male, Caucasian, 40s,

massive head and neck trauma."

Found this one behind a
taco stand in North Hollywood.

"Patient profoundly anemic,
massive loss of blood,

no hemorrhaging
in the cranial cavity."

At least we got a
make on this one.

His name is Vic Danton.

He's a singer.

Fronts for a group
called Nerves of Steel.

They got a couple
of Gold records.

(chuckles): Is that...?

Uh-huh. Our very own.

Jack

is one of L.A.'s most
eligible bachelors?

Here I was, I thought he was

just a guy who
couldn't get a date.

Steve, I want to
see those bodies.

Thought you'd never ask.

(women giggling, chattering)

(whooping, clamoring)

How about a date, doc?

(laughter)

All right.

Now, how long
is this gonna last?

Until something more wonderfully
silly comes along, Doctor.

(laughter)

Nice smile, nice eyes.

(chattering, whooping)

(laughter)

(Briggs humming)

Norman! Yes?

The hell with Hawaii! What?

It's done. It's over.

Stick a fork in it, I quit.

Dr. Stewart, get
a grip on yourself.

You're babbling.
I am not babbling.

I do not want to be one of

L.A.'s most eligible
bachelors anymore!

Then fly to Vegas
and get married.

Because short of that,

you're doomed to
be the object of desire

for countless women,
worshipped, adored,

flung into a world of
hot tubs and saunas.

Speaking of which, why
aren't you at the festivities?

I made a special point
of giving you time off.

I'm not going.

Fine.

Miss Stryker, have the
duty rosters gone out yet?

STRYKER (over
intercom): No, sir.

They're right here. Good.

I'd like to make
some adjustments.

Some people are getting
entirely too much time off.

Ah!

(humming)

Cancel.

(humming)

(laughing)

Mark, what are we looking for?

Well, uh, both victims
experienced dramatic blood loss,

but no cranial bleeding.

Hmm.

Autopsy found no wounds.

How did they
lose all that blood?

Exactly.

Did you know that Jack was voted

one of L.A.'s most
eligible bachelors

in some magazine?

Yes, I did, and I
think it's a hoot.

I'm gonna make that
man's life miserable

for what, two or three months.

(laughs)

You know, Vic Danton here

was also selected as
an eligible bachelor.

Mr. Danton was
last seen at a party

introducing the bachelors.

Ivan Bock's.

Incredible house.

You've been there?

Well, not exactly.

Only through the pages of
the architectural magazines,

but let me tell you,
he has a bowling alley,

a racquetball
court, a tennis court

and an art collection

to rival the Getty.

You ought to check it out.

Maybe I will.

Amanda, those look
like punctures in the skin.

Let me see.

Well, it's tough to tell.

The skin's awfully lacerated.

The other victim
has similar markings

in exactly the same place.

Well, they could
have been inflicted

by whatever weapon was used.

Yeah, possibly.

In any case, the, uh,
wounds here are far too small

to cause that kind of bleeding.

They're on either
side of the jugular.

Mm-hmm.

Only wounds we've found.

They're inconsequential.

The coroner didn't even
list them in his report.

Well, he probably
wasn't looking for them

with all that blunt
force trauma.

Yeah.

You know, maybe the
killer was counting on that.

What are you suggesting?

Nothing right now.

BOCK: And we have a full plate

of activities planned for today.

But before we get
to them, I'd like a, uh,

moment of silence in
memory of Vic Danton,

a man blessed with talent

and a zest for life,

tragically snuffed out too soon.

You gonna make a speech
like that when I'm gone, Ivan?

You're not going
anywhere, Terry.

Oh-ho.

Baby, my bags

are packed.

I'm a free man.

BOCK: Listen,

you ungrateful drone,

I plucked you from

some third rate college

and made you into
a media darling.

Don't spite the
hand that feeds you.

The meals you lay out
wouldn't keep a bird alive.

You don't look
undernourished, Terry.

Matter of fact, you've
put on a few kilos.

No wonder your offensive
line calls you "Mr. Jellyroll."

Hey!

Hey, hey, come on.
(overlapping chatter)

BOCK: That's right,
go to it, Jellyroll.

You could get hurt.

If I can sell you by the pound,

maybe I can recoup
my investment in you.

Hey, whoa. Whoa.

This guy wants you to
swing. Can't you see that?

This way he can suspend you.

You won't be
playing for any team.

(panting)

All right.

Thanks, pal.

(panting)

(indistinct chatter
and laughter)

(Steve whistles)

Great legs. (sighs)

Yours are very nice, too, Miss.

Yeah, but lay off,
will you, Steve?

I hate this enough
for the both of us.

Oh, you poor thing.

Being paraded around
like a piece of meat

just to sell a few
lousy magazines.

I can't wait for the
swimsuit competition.

(chuckles) Don't let
him get you down.

You look great
in a bathing suit.

I'll be over there in a
minute, all right? Mm-hmm.

STEVE: Excuse me, Mr. Bock?

Lieutenant Sloan. Homicide.

This is about, uh,
Vic Danton, isn't it?

He was here last
night, wasn't he?

Yes, all our bachelors were.

What time did he leave?

Early, as I recall.

Uh-uh.

I was one of the
last to leave here,

and he was still here

dancing the night away
with Moriah Thomas.

Oh.

Who's Moriah Thomas?

JACK: She's the, um,

editor of Empire Magazine.

May we speak to her?

BOCK: Well, she's resting.

I'll have her call
you when she rises.

Could we at least have
a look around inside?

Do you have a warrant?

We can get one.

Come back when you do.

Everybody, line up, please.

Have your identification ready.

BOCK: What the hell do you think

you're doing?

Conducting a
homicide investigation.

These are advertisers,
account executives.

I can't have them embarrassed.

Invite us in, Mr. Bock.

Follow me.

BOCK: I'll try and wake

Miss Thomas.

Try not to break anything.

On your salary, it
would take a lifetime

to pay for a knickknack.

This is the last place
Danton was seen alive.

If he died here, maybe
he left something behind.

I'm gonna check over here.

Hey, come on.

You can admire
the artwork later.

Okay.

You know, maybe
Danton wasn't killed here.

That amount of blood has
to leave some kind of trace.

Yeah. Aah.

There you are.

When I said you
could look around,

I didn't realize, uh, you were
going to make a career of it.

What about Miss Thomas?

Well, I couldn't wake her.

She must have taken a pill.

What's in here?

Odds and ends. It's a storeroom.

Would you open it, please?

I'm afraid I don't have a key.

Any objections to,
uh, my opening it?

You really are
becoming tiresome,

Lieutenant.

Shall we speak to his guests

again? All right.

All right, open it.

(door creaking open)

What's that?

BOCK: Every
Halloween, I give a benefit

for crippled children.

That's a prop.

Ah.

(thudding, glass clinking
and Bock groaning)

What happened?

I tripped over that box.

I... I think I tore something.

Ow.

Well, this is lousy timing.

I don't know.

I think your timing
was pretty good.

MARK: I knew it. There it is.

Hmm.

What?

The mirror.

You can still see
the outline in the wall.

Only now, there's a
painting hanging there.

So? Maybe Bock redecorated.

I couldn't find one
mirror in that house.

Probably to keep the bachelors
from spending all their time

preening in front of them.

Mark, why are you so preoccupied

by the fact that you
couldn't find mirrors

in Ivan Bock's house?

Just a theory I'm working on.

You care to share it?

No, not at the
moment. All right.

Suit yourself. I'm
going back to the lab.

(door closes and opens)

Wait a minute.

Victims drained of their blood,

puncture wounds in their necks
and a house without mirrors?!

Mark! I know how it sounds.

Why do you think I didn't
want to say anything?

There's no such thing as a...

I know.

There's always a rational,

logical explanation
for everything.

I know.

And I really love those
movies, I really do.

And if the truth be known,

I'm-I'm a closet
Bela Lugosi fan.

But a real live... I know!

And we will not be pursuing
this line of investigating,

will we?

Will we?

There's a coffin in
the storage room.

What?!

All right, forget
I said anything.

No. What...? Just
forget I said anything.

(distant laughter and chatter)

Good evening, sir.

(piano plays,
overlapping chatter)

How are you feeling, Moriah?

As usual. Empty.

Can we keep to schedule?

I don't see why not.

Good. The wolves
are nipping at our heels.

Just don't dawdle over dinner.

Lieutenant Sloan, Homicide.

Miss Thomas, you were
one of the last people

to see Vic Danton
on the night he died.

We danced,

I had a little midnight
snack, and he left.

Did he say where he was going?

He wasn't very
talkative at that point.

I'm afraid this
is a little grisly,

but I'm gonna have
to ask you to look at it.

Do you recognize this man?

No. Who is he?

We haven't identified him yet.

BOCK: Anything else,

Lieutenant? We
have a party to host.

MORIAH: We're
giving our bachelors

a final send-off.

If I need you, I'll be in touch.

How's that leg, Mr. Bock?

Well, like it never happened.

(piano plays slow,
romantic music)

I'll be leaving soon.

Why?

My work's almost done here.

You consider me work?

Not at all.

As a matter of fact,

I think you're
gonna be a pleasure.

May I cut in?

(laughs): Mark, I'm
just warming up here.

Careful you don't overheat.

(sighs)

Hope you don't
mind my cutting in.

Not at all.

Youth can be so draining.

I'm Dr. Mark Sloan,

consultant with the
police department.

A doctor? Of the mind or body?

Oh, you can't treat one
without knowing the other.

You're a wonderful
dancer, Doctor.

It has something to
do with the partner.

I'm sure you've had many.

None quite as intriguing as you.

That's quite some
bedside manner.

Actually, I've always had
a weakness for older men.

I don't think

there's anything weak
about you, Miss Thomas.

Moriah.

You know, I was watching you

when Steve showed
you that picture.

Anyone else would
have recoiled from that,

but you didn't bat an eye.

I learned about
death very early.

Do you know how Vic Danton
and the other man died?

According to the news reports,
they were beaten to death.

That's what the killer
wanted everyone to think,

but the fact is,

they were drained of their blood

by two tiny punctures on
either side of the jugular.

(laughs)

Are you suggesting that
the killer is a vampire?

Someone who believes
they're a vampire.

There's documented
evidence of cases

like that, rare
though they may be.

The point is, this
person needs help.

What if nothing can
help this... person?

Anyone can be helped,
Moriah, if they want to be.

You're mired in logic, Doctor.

It's the world I live in.

Hey, what do say?
You, uh, want to jam?

Not everything can be
explained or stopped, Doctor.

This can.

Time will tell.

Are you hungry?

Oh, I can always eat.

Good. I'm famished.

Mmm.

(Moriah hums romantic
tune along with piano)

(siren wailing)

It's Terry Broadhurst.

The garbage man found
him in the Dumpster.

Same M.O. as the others.

Uh, any witnesses?

Well, the last
anybody saw of him,

he was dancing
with Moriah Thomas.

You know, that is
the second victim

who spent the night of his
death with Miss Thomas.

Mm-hmm.

We finally got a
make on the first one.

It's a Desmond Manners,

professor of
paranormal psychology.

Specializing in the occult.

He arrived from London a
few days after Moriah Thomas

appeared in L.A.

And "appeared"
is the right word.

She seems to have
come out of nowhere.

There was no
passport, no plane ticket,

no paper trail of any kind.

You know, I think it's
time we paid another visit

to Miss Thomas.

She's not here.

MARK: Where is she?

Out.

She had some appointments.

When will she be back?

Tonight, some time after 7:00.

Mr. Bock, exactly
how did you come

to hire Miss Thomas
to edit your magazine?

She came highly recommended.

By whom?

BOCK: By various people

in the magazine trade.

Why?

We can't seem to find any record

of Miss Thomas' existence

before she began
working for you.

Ha! That's ridiculous.

Help us out.

She spent most of
her career in London.

Freelancing mainly.

Contributing to the
finest publications.

Even won some awards.

Could you be a
bit more specific?

I'll fax you her résumé.

Mr. Bock, Terry Broadhurst
was found murdered this morning.

Oh, my God.

We need an
identification for the record.

You up to it?

Yes, yes,

I suppose.

Terry and I didn't
always see eye to eye,

but I loved him.

He was like a, like
a brother to me.

My car is outside.

Uh, Steve, could you send a car

to drop me off at the hospital?

I can drop you off.

No, it's out of your
way. Just radio for a car.

I'll, uh, I'll wait outside.

Call me later?

Yeah.

I'll just wait out here.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(knocks on door)

♪ ♪

(latches clicking)

JACK: ♪ I got two tickets ♪

♪ To paradise... uh! ♪

♪ Won't you pack your
bags, we'll leave tonight. ♪

All right, I got the
Ragotzy workup.

I got the Gorman
biopsy. You were right.

It was benign.

And the Herrera discharge,

which, with the
exception of, uh...

my rounds and the odd emergency,

leaves me free as a bird.

And where are
you winging off to?

Well, I have a date.

Anyone I know?

Moriah Thomas.

You're seeing Moriah
Thomas this evening?

Mm-hmm, we're having dinner.

And, uh, Mark,

if things go well, I'm
going to be dessert.

(laughs)

Jack,

I don't think you
should keep that date.

Why not? Haven't you heard

about Terry Broadhurst?

Heard what?

He's dead.

Since when? They found him

this morning,
same as the others.

What, and you
think Moriah did it?

Her name's on my suspect list.

As a matter of fact,
it's the only name.

Mark, why would
you, uh, suspect her?

Jack, I think she
suffers from an extreme,

albeit rare, mental disorder.

Oh...

Something that could be
very dangerous to the unwary.

Come on, Mark, she seems
perfectly normal to me.

On the surface.

What, um, what kind
of mental disorder?

I'd rather not say, Jack.

(laughing): Mark, come on, you're
not giving me a lot of incentive

to break my date here, you know.

Look, Jack, just go
along with me on this one.

(sighs)

All right.

I believe... no,

I'm, I'm convinced

she thinks she's a vampire.

All right, I know
how that sounds.

But, Jack, there are
documented cases

of people who believe
that they're vampires.

They sleep in coffins.

They don't allow
mirrors in the house.

They drink human blood.

(laughing)

Hey, I got it now.
It's Steve, isn't it?

He put you up to this.

That devil. I'm telling you.

H-He hates the fact that I
landed somebody like Moriah.

It's driving him nuts.

He'd do anything to
blow my shot with her.

But you know what? I
love him anyway. I do.

Mark, you had me
going for a minute.

I got to go.

I got two tickets to Paradise.

♪ Won't you pack your
bags we'll leave tonight ♪

♪ I got, uh ♪

♪ Two tickets to paradise. ♪

Are you crazy?

What you're asking is unethical,

immoral and highly suspect.

I can't arbitrarily assign
Jack a double shift.

Besides, I already
promised him a night out

in exchange for
his participation

in that "Eligible
Bachelor" promotion.

Norman, two of those
bachelors are dead.

Jack could be next.

He's going to spend an
evening alone with the suspect.

The only way he'll cancel
that is if he's busy working!

You really think he's in danger?

I wouldn't be here if I didn't.

So you're saying a man's
life is at stake. Right.

However, the person
that Jack is going to see

is merely a suspect.

A prime suspect.

Let me ask you a
hypothetical question:

What happens if
your suspect turns out

not to be the murderer?

Then Jack has worked one
night that he shouldn't have.

Precisely.

Now, let me explain my dilemma.

Jack hates being
an eligible bachelor.

The only way I got
him to go along with it

was to promise him time off.

If I renege on that
promise, he'll bail,

and Community
General's chance of being

in the national spotlight

will go with him... To
the wind as it were.

Now, look.

Look how beautifully the
Community General's sign came out.

The photographer
wanted double time, but I...

Norman...

So you're saying a
man's life is at stake? Yes.

Fine, I get it.

AMANDA: Roger
Nelson? Amanda Bentley.

I'm a feature writer
with the Examiner.

And you want to interview
me on my selection

as one of the most eligible
bachelors in Los Angeles.

So uh... what angle
are you going to use?

Angle?

Yeah, the...

rugged body builder?

Dynamic stockbroker?

The shy, sensitive guy
who loves sushi for two

and long walks in the rain?

Actually, fear.

Fear?

Well, yes, aren't you
afraid that you might wind up

like Terry Broadhurst
or Vic Danton?

Wait a minute. What
kind of an angle is that?

Did you know either
of them, Mr. Nelson?

Well, yeah. I met them when

we were presented to the press.

If anybody should be
afraid, it's Ivan Bock.

The publisher of Empire.

He also owns the L.A.
Flames football team.

Well, that's okay.

You can touch it if you want.

I beg your pardon?

My bicep.

(groans)

Why would Ivan Bock be afraid?

Well, the brokerage
firm that I work for

handled the stock issue
when he went public.

Now, I got a look at
his financial report,

and no matter what you read,
that guy's skating on thin ice.

Some definition, huh?

Mr. Nelson, do you think

that you could talk and
flex at the same time?

Yeah.

Look, Terry Broadhurst was
the only real asset Bock had.

He was the franchise.

Without Broadhurst,
it's over and out for Bock.

(doorbell ringing)

It's Time. I just got here.

Time magazine.

They're doing an article
on me, too. (doorbell ringing)

Coming.

Mr. Nelson, I'm
Lieutenant Sloan.

I wonder if...

AMANDA: I was only
trying to help, Steve.

And maybe I have.

According to Arnold
Schwarzenegger,

Ivan Bock is not the
mega-mogul he appears to be.

As a matter of fact,

he's up the financial
creek without a paddle.

Well, that explains it.

Explains what?

Philip Lerman

our bachelor attorney?

Worked for a law firm
that had a department

specializing in sports figures.

He told me Bock
didn't have the bucks

to keep Terry Broadhurst...

That Terry was going
the free agency route.

That he even sent
Bock a letter of intent.

What's the significance of that?

Well, it means that Terry
had officially taken the first step

in making a deal someplace else.

Leaving Bock without a
star attraction for his team.

Well, that doesn't
make any sense.

With Terry dead,
Bock still has nothing.

If you call 20 million
bucks nothing.

$20 million!

Uh-huh.

Life insurance policy
Bock took out on Terry.

It's common if you've got

a piece of merchandise
that valuable.

Well, that's certainly motive.

Yeah, to kill Terry
Broadhurst maybe.

How do you explain
the other two?

Well, I don't know.
One step at a time.

Right now we have a logical,
rational explanation for murder.

Has your father mentioned
any of his theories?

Yeah. He thinks that, uh...

Moriah Thomas
is a prime suspect.

Did he say why?

No. He was a
little vague on that.

Good.

Please pursue Ivan Bock.

Frame him if you have to.

But pursue him!

Jack, I'm sorry you had
to work a double shift.

But believe me... Chris?

Hey, if you're looking
for Jack Stewart,

you're out of luck.

He conned me
into taking his shift.

Laid out some sob story

about this hot date
he couldn't pass up.

What can I tell you?

I'm a sucker for romance.

(doorbell rings)

I'd like to see
Mr. Bock, please.

Of course.

Expecting someone?

My dinner... date.

What is it this
time, Lieutenant?

The district attorney
would like a statement

concerning the death
of Terry Broadhurst.

How long will this take?

It depends on how
much you have to say.

Shall we?

You'll take care of the...

mess in the kitchen?

It's as good as gone.

That's one hell of a
kitchen you got there.

I got lost on my way

from the sink to
the refrigerator.

(glasses clink)

It's too bad about, um...

Terry Broadhurst
and Vic Danton, huh?

Did you know them well?

We had a few intense moments.

Nothing lasting.

What about the other guy?

The, um...

professor from England.

Did you know him, too?

Aren't you going
to ask me to dance?

Do you ever get lonely?

Yeah.

I guess everybody
does once in a while.

Sometimes I get so lonely

I feel like opening the drapes

and staring at
the sun until I melt.

I take it

that there's nobody
in your life right now.

Hasn't been.

Not for ages.

That's the problem.

Underneath it all, I'm
an incurable romantic.

And yet I never seem to be able

to hold onto a man for
more than a few moments.

Are you hungry?

I'm saving myself for dessert.

I could go for a little Italian.

I know a great place.

Not too far.

I like to eat in.

First door on the left.

Get naked.

♪ ♪

(doorbell rings)

Where's Jack?

You're quite vigorous for
a man your age, Doctor.

Vigorous enough to fight you.

People have been
saying that for centuries.

You killed those
men, didn't you?

For Ivan Bock.

MORIAH: All right!

He wanted to collect

on Terry Broadhurst's
insurance policy.

But that would have
been too obvious.

So he enlisted you
to make it appear

someone was killing
all the bachelors.

It was the least I could do.

He offered to get
me a valid passport.

My last one expired in 1938.

Moriah, I offered you help.

Please take it.

What? To cure me of
my vampire fixation?

I saw the coffin in your room.

(laughs)

You think I sleep in a coffin?

I sleep in a bed
like everybody else.

I just use the coffin to travel.

Moriah.

You've been reading too
much junk about us, Doctor.

One thing they say is true.

We're incredibly strong!

Oh.

(screams)

Holy Mother of God!

Since there are no
such things as vampires,

maybe you're hallucinating...

or projecting your own fears.

Or maybe I've hypnotized you

and you'll wake up

with nothing more
than a dry mouth.

But I wouldn't bet on it.

What are you?

Just another species
trying to survive

in a hostile environment.

By killing people?

We slaughter cows

for Quarter Pounders
and chickens

for coq au vin.

And human beings
for Moriah Thomas.

JACK: What the hell's going on?

Go back to bed, darling.

I'm just putting
out the garbage.

Jack get out!

Naughty, naughty!

(screams)

I hope you took
your iron pills, Doctor.

Anything I hate, it's
an anemic hors d'ouvre.

(grunting) Oh!

(growling)

You really should do something

about your anger, Jack.

You don't mind

if I start with dessert,

do you, Doctor?

(groans)

(gasping)

Moriah, did you kill
those three men?

Yes!

Did Ivan Bock

instruct you to kill them?

Yes!

(in a demonic voice): Help me.

STEVE: And the D.A. feels

he's got a solid
case against Bock.

With Moriah Thoma"
deathbed confession

and a $20 million motive,

he'd be lucky to
beat the gas chamber.

You know, Dad's
an old hand at this.

You gonna be all
right testifying, Jack?

Yeah, I'll be fine.

As long as they
stick to what she said.

AMANDA: I guess this Moriah

Thomas was working for Bock.

In a manner of speaking.

Three murders in cold blood.

You could have been
number four, Jack.

Yeah, I know.

I'm trying to forget about that.

Trying to forget
about... everything.

One of your men
dropped this off for you.

Oh, thanks. What's that?

We found it near
one of the victims?

I asked the crime lab

to try and reconstruct
what was in it.

Can you believe those guys?

They got nothing better to do

than fool around.