Frasier (1993–2004): Season 2, Episode 13 - Retirement Is Murder - full transcript

FRASIER: Ah, yes... another
beautiful Saturday night.

The moon is full.

The city lights are twinkling.

Lovers steal kisses in the park.

And here...

Chez Crane...

my father and his assistant

sit hunched over
20-year-old photographs

of a murdered hooker.

Life is a banquet.

I enjoy looking at
your father's old case.



Just because you
have no plans tonight

don't spoil our harmless fun.

You know, there's nothing

we Brits like better
than a grisly murder

and a nice hot cup of tea.

MARTIN: Uh, listen, Daphne,

I got a lot of work to do
here, so if you don't mind...

Oh, excuse me.

I didn't know I
was bothering you.

MARTIN: Uh, well, I'm sorry.

It's this damn case.

I-I feel like the answer
to who murdered Helen

is right here!

I just can't see it.



Dad, you're obsessing.

You stare at these
grisly pictures

day after day,
night after night.

Let's... Come on, why don't
we go out and see a movie?

No, thanks.

Let's go get a pizza.

Nah.

Let's get tattooed.

Oh...

This is ridiculous.

It's a beautiful night, and
I'm not going to miss it.

I'm going to go out and
take a nice long walk

and I'm not going by myself.

He likes the rhododendrons
on the north side of the park.

WOMAN ( on phone): And I-I
just want to thank you, Dr. Crane.

Because of your advice,

I've conquered
my fear of heights.

I-I took it slowly,

gradually going
higher and higher,

until here I am, right now,

having lunch at the
top of the Space Needle.

Marjorie, congratulations.

I'm so proud of you.

I mean, when I think
of how I used to...

( screaming)

God, what's wrong?
What happened?

I just looked down.

Oh, well, Marjorie,
don't do that.

Listen, look at your
luncheon companions

look at your menu,
but don't look down.

You're only feeding your
fears when you do that.

Maybe I wasn't ready
for a window table.

No, no, no. Of course you are.

Of course you are.

You can beat this thing.

You're right.

I can, Dr. Crane, if I just...

( screaming)

Do not look down!

No, I didn't.

My check just came.

Oh, well, uh, Marjorie,

we're just about
out of time now.

Um, call me tomorrow, will you?

Well, that's it
for today, folks.

Stay tuned for Bob
"Bulldog" Brisco.

This is Dr. Frasier Crane,
KACL 780 Talk Radio.

Hey, Doc.

Bulldog.

I caught the first hour
of your show today.

Yeah, if that chick whining

about sexual harassment
called my show, I'd say,

"Listen, doll, you don't want
people snapping your bra,

don't wear one."

Brilliant in its simplicity.

Hey, how's this sound, hardbody?

You, me, Sonics, Knicks,

tonight.

Sorry, Bulldog, but
I'm already going.

I have season tickets.

Oh, we could still get
together afterwards.

Only if I smash into your car

in the parking lot.

Why is it the ones
that want it the most

put up the biggest struggle?

Because when I
do finally give in,

I want us to enjoy
it all the more.

That is, if I'm
not too distracted

by the fact that every
man on Earth has died.

Almost had her there.

Yes, it could have
gone either way.

Ah, well, with my
pull, I can get those

anytime I want.

Hello, Frasier.

Oh. Oh, Bulldog, have you met

my brother Niles?

Niles, this is Bulldog Brisco.

Oh, oh, oh, just the
man I want to talk to.

As a sports expert,
I'm sure you can tell me

why none of the local media

carry the Ivy League
squash standings.

( blows raspberries)

Whoa! Another one just like you.

Some gypsy put a
curse on your family?

Well,

I gotta run. See
you later, Miles.

It's-it's Niles.

( high-pitched laugh)

Like it matters.

Well, you ready for
our boys' night out

at Le Cochon Noir?

( horn honks)

Yes.

But Niles, I've been wondering.

Would you mind if I
asked Dad to join us?

Remember the last time

we took Dad to a
four-star restaurant?

He had a miserable time.

The restaurant
lost a whole star.

Yeah, it's just, I'm trying
desperately to find some way

to get him out of the house.

He's off on one of his
"Weeping Lotus" binges again.

We've tried
distracting him before.

We've taken him everywhere
from the arboretum

to the Zen garden.

Wait a minute.

The Zen garden
is at the arboretum.

Good Lord, is it possible
we've only taken him one place?

Oh, Niles, Niles,

this is it, this is it.

The basketball game!

Basketball?

Yes, yes! I can
get another ticket

from the promotional department.

Oh, this is perfect.

Just imagine how
excited Dad will be

to go to a game
with his two sons.

My God, it's the archetypal
male bonding ritual!

Couldn't we just go

into the woods, kill something
and have done with it?

All right.

Come on, Niles.

Look, it'll give you a chance

to see the Tacoma Dome.

I've already seen it.

They had a home show there once.

You know, that's
where I got that idea

to stencil the grape arbor
on our Welsh dresser.

FRASIER: I'm a
teamster compared to you.

( crowd murmuring, sneakers
squeaking on bleachers)

VENDOR: Peanuts!

Peanuts here.

Peanuts.

Niles, the game's that way.

I know.

I'm just calculating
our escape route

in case of fire or urban unrest.

Maris taught me that.

You love her, don't you?

Yes, I do.

Why?

It just helps to know that.

Here we are.

One beer and two
glasses of wine.

I'm sure it's good, Niles.

They opened a fresh
box when they poured it.

MARTIN: What are you guys doing

drinking wine at a ball game?

You ought to be drinking beer.

Dad, I only drink beer
when I eat German food,

which is to say never.

Did you notice where the
facilities are when you were up?

Yes, Niles. It's
just as you feared...

Communal urinals
in the men's room.

Oh, fine. What am I supposed
to do about my shy kidneys?

So, Dad, aren't these
great seats, huh?

Yeah.

What's the matter with you?

Nothing.

Let me borrow your
pen a minute, will you?

What for?

Well, I was thinking
about that ballistics report,

and I just want to make
a note so I won't forget it.

Dad, the whole idea
of coming here tonight

was to get your
mind off of the case.

Listen, I've done some reading.

It seems that the
key for the Sonics

is to stop Starks
from penetrating,

dumping the ball
off for easy baskets.

"Stop Starks."
That sounds funny.

Stop Starks.

Stop Starks, stop
Starks, stop Starks...

Oh, shut up, Niles!

It makes no sense.

Well, Dad, it's not my theory,

I was just quoting
some sports writer.

No, I mean Helen.

She was tall.

She was five feet seven,

yet the bullet entered
on a downward trajectory.

Dad, please try to participate.

Oh, look, they're
starting the wave!

Oh, oh, it's coming this
way! It's coming this way!

( laughing)

That was fun, wasn't it?

Oh, look, there's a peanut guy!

Peanuts!

How dare you!

Niles!

Stop it! Niles!

That hooligan is
pelting me with peanuts!

From the look of that tray,
ah, he's come prepared!

Stop... Oh, stop
it! That is for me!

I've got to go make a call.

Oh, Dad, this isn't
about the case, is it?

Yeah.

Well, Dad, look, you've been
working on it for 20 years.

How come you're so obsessed now?

Look, when Helen was murdered,
I made a promise to her mother.

I said that no matter
how long it took,

I'd find the killer.

Well, I had a call
from her last week,

and she's an old lady now,
living in a home somewhere

and I don't know,
she just doesn't seem

to have a lot longer to go,

and it just kind of
lit a fire under me

to get this thing solved.

So, I appreciate
your bringing me here,

but I got to make this call.

I'll be back in a
couple of minutes.

Okay, Dad, I understand.

Boy, the traffic
tonight is murder.

Hey, pal, what's the score?

West Side Story.

You know what's
always bugged me?

This picture of the crime scene.

The way Helen's written "help."

Why would she do that?

Well, I suppose the word
"howdy" would have been

a bit too cheery under
the circumstances.

But it makes no sense.

Anybody who could
read "help" in the dirt

could also see
Helen lying there.

( humming)

Evening, Dad.

Hey, Dad.

Oh, listen, thanks
again for the ball game.

It was great.

Oh, God, it was a pleasure, Dad.

I'm only sorry that you couldn't

join us for dinner afterwards.

Le Cochon Noir
gave us a late seating

for a fabulous dinner.

It was an exquisite meal,

marred only by the lack of
even one outstanding cognac

on their carte de digestifs.

Yes, but think of
it this way, Niles:

What's the one thing better
than an exquisite meal?

An exquisite meal
with one tiny flaw

we can pick at all night. Oh.

Quite right.

To impossible standards.

Mmm, mmm, ah... mmm. So, Dad,

any-any progress on the case?

Nah. I'm beat.

Sometimes it's better to
just get a good night's sleep

and start fresh in the morning.

Good night, fellas. Night, Dad.

Don't forget... brush your
teeth and say your prayers.

That's what I used
to say to you guys

when you were kids, didn't I?

No, you didn't.

MARTIN: Oh...

I meant to.

We knew that.

DAPHNE: Hello.

Hello, Daphne.

How was your dinner?

It was fine except
for one small flaw.

Oh, just the way you like it.

I see you're a bit intrigued

by that yourself.

Yes. Well, it's been a while
since I've gone over this.

Who are these guys?

Oh, just some of
the principal players

in our little drama.

That's Detective Shelby,

the vice cop who found the body.

Who is this menacing,
little monobrow?

Oh, that's
Robittaille, the logger.

An ex-boyfriend of Helen's.

He used to come down
from the mountains

every couple of months
and disappear with her.

If you ask me,
he's the murderer.

Impossible. He's
got an airtight alibi.

What is it?

He was killing somebody
else at the time.

Ah.

But you have to admit,

this case has it all: sex,
greed, jealousy, revenge,

a monkey, hatred, deception...

Wait, wait, wait, wait. What?

A monkey?

Well, yeah. This is a snapshot

of the murder victim

with her pet monkey, Coco.

It was given to her
by another boyfriend,

Clive Brisbane.

Well, why wasn't
Brisbane a suspect?

Well, he was,

but several witnesses
saw him at the racetrack

at the time of the murder.

Excuse me.

Is that Clive Brisbane,
the animal trainer?

That's right.

Brisbane's Amazing Apes.

They opened in Las Vegas
for Engelbert Humperdinck.

Yes, it's easy to
forget there was a time

when Las Vegas wasn't
the tacky place it is now.

You know,

I actually caught Brisbane's act

on a trip to Las
Vegas during college.

Those apes were amazing!

One minute they'd be
staging a living tableau

of George Washington
crossing the Delaware.

The next, they'd be
shooting suction cup arrows

at Brisbane's lovely
assistant's derriere.

You know...

there is a way that
Brisbane could be the killer

and still have his
horse track alibi hold up.

Daphne...

Niles...

I present you with...

the killer.

A monkey was the trigger man?

Just play along with me here.

They're capable
of shooting arrows.

Why not a gun?

But why would
Brisbane have her killed?

Because... because...

she jilted him for someone else!

Robittaille, the logger!

Exactly!

My God, we've done it!

No, you've done it, Dr. Crane!

Well, yes, but you were
standing very close by.

Yes, I was.

Wait a minute.

Are we saying here

that a murder was
committed by a monkey?

It's not so very farfetched.

It could be Brisbane's
diabolical homage

to the Edgar Allan Poe story
"Murders in the Rue Morgue."

It's all about an orangutan
who goes about the rooftops

of Paris murdering people.

Wait till we tell Dad

Yes. his case has finally
been solved. Dad! Dad!

No, no, Niles,
Niles, wait, wait!

It's still just a theory.

Even if we are right,

just think how Dad
would feel, knowing that

we've cracked a case that
he couldn't solve in 20 years.

Oh, dear, you're right.

Wait.

It's merely serendipity

that I stumbled into this.

Why can't it happen again?

I'll simply rearrange the photos

in a way so that Dad
will see the connection.

All right, we've got Coco,

the gun...

and Helen.

MARTIN: What is it?

Oh, no, hey, Frasier!

What are you doing over there?

No, no, no.

I got these all set out
the way I want them.

This one goes up...

MARTIN: I'll be damned.

Something wrong?

Look at that!

What?

Well, I never thought
it would just leap out

and bite me like this.

I think I may have solved
this pain-in-the-ass case.

You have?

FRASIER: Dad, that's wonderful!

Oh, no, don't get too excited.

I mean, this is
kind of farfetched.

I mean, it's...
it's a long shot,

but it's beginning to
make sense to me.

Oh, here, lay it all out for us.

Yeah, yeah... no,
no, guys, please,

just give me a little
privacy, will ya?

I just got to do some thinking.

No problem, Dad.

I was just going to bed meself.

Night, all.

Good night, Daphne.

Oh, look at him.

Do you see the
sparkle in his eye?

Oh, Frasier, he's like
a little kid at Christmas.

Oh, geez, what happened
to my entry-wound close-ups?

♪ Fa-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la. ♪

( door opens)

Hello, Daphne.

Hello.

Is Dad home?

Nope. I haven't seen him

since he knocked me
up early this morning.

What?

"Knocked me up"... woke me up.

It's an English expression.

What does it mean here?

Oh, something else.

You'd definitely be
awake for it, though.

He was headed down
to the station house

to present his theory.

Oh, dear God, I wish
he hadn't done that.

You know, I've been turning
it over in my mind all day.

The more I think about
it, the goofier it sounds.

I mean, a monkey! Oh...

I just hope they didn't
laugh him out of the station.

It'd be one hell of a way to
end a 30-year police career.

Oh, now, now, Dr. Crane,

it's not the most outlandish
theory in the world.

Mmm, you're right.

I could've said it
was a trained giraffe!

I suppose it killed her by

spitting a bullet
at her, thus...

explaining the
downward trajectory.

Hey, guys.

Hello. Hi, Dad.

Don't suppose
you've heard anything

from the station house yet, huh?

Not yet.

I was afraid of that.

I mean, I knew my
theory was a bit iffy,

but when I told the guys,

they looked at me
like I'd lost my mind.

Geez, they didn't ridicule
you, did they, Dad?

Oh, no, they always treat
old-timers with respect.

They said, "I'll check it out,"

just like I used to when some
nutbag would come in there

with aluminum foil in his hat,

claiming the Martians were
trying to steal his brain waves.

I'm sorry, Mr. Crane.

Oh, I don't know
what I was thinking of.

I've been walking
around all afternoon,

just trying to figure
out how I came up

with such a half-assed theory.

Dad...

it wasn't your fault.

I did it.

You killed her?

No, but I did plant that
ridiculous idea in your head.

Remember last night
when you came in,

so upset that I was
rearranging your pictures?

Well, I rearranged
them in a specific way

so that you would

come to the same
conclusion I did.

So you had the idea first?

I can't tell you
how terrible I feel.

Ah, don't blame yourself.

You might have put the
aluminum foil in my hat,

but I walked right into
the station wearing it.

( doorbell rings)

I'll get it.

Oh.

Hiya, Marty.

Hey, Frank!

Frasier, Daphne, you
remember Frank Hollings

from the precinct?
How you doing?

Hey, Marty, we got to talk.

Oh, Frank, about

that theory of mine...

Look, I can't for the life of me
figure what you were thinking.

I know, I know.

I just feel so stupid
wasting your time like that.

It cost us

a whole afternoon and
five detectives' time,

and all we got
to show for it is...

( laughs)

We got the bastard!

I was right?!

FRANK: Hey, you
don't believe me,

ask these derelicts.

( cheering)

Way to go, Marty!

Good to see you! Come on in.

Marty, you still got it!

And it only took you 20 years!

( laughing): Yes!

Oh, Mr. Crane,
I'm so proud of you!

Oh, that's amazing!
That's wonderful!

Oh, that's suede!

COP: So, Marty,
how did you do it?

Well, you know, for years,

I thought it was
Robataille, the logger,

and then I thought, well, maybe

it was Brisbane,
the animal trainer,

but I was wrong.

How did you

finally decide that it
was Detective Shelby?

Well, you know, I kept
looking at that picture,

and it kept bugging
me, you know?

Why was she trying to
write "help" in the dirt?

And then it came to me!

She was trying to write
the killer's name, "Shelby,"

only she must have died
before she finished the "b"

and somebody must've
kicked dirt over the "s."

Well, you nailed him all right.

We pulled him
in for interrogation

and he cracked like a nut.

Oh, I'm sorry I
ever doubted you,

but then you yourself
were beginning to wonder

if a monkey could
really commit a murder.

Well, I may have
momentarily doubted it,

but from time to time, I have
to be reminded to trust my gift.

MARTIN: So, Dad, did
you call the girl's mother yet?

FRANK: Nah. We
left that for you.

After all, you were the
guy who solved this thing.

Aw, well, you
know, actually, uh...

I can't take all
the credit for it,

right, Frasier? Come
on, get over here.

Oh, now, Dad...

No, no! Come on! Don't be shy.

I'm proud of you.

You know, I was
a cop for 30 years

and it took my son,

with his Ph.D. mind,
to crack this baby.

Of course, I was standing
next to him at the time.

So, tell us about it, Frasier.

Oh, no! No!

( shouts of encouragement)

Well, all right.

I hate to toot my
own horn, but...

well, if it'll make
Dad happy, I...

I suppose it was my
expertise in human behavior,

combined with a
lifelong enthusiasm

for the Rwandan lowland gorilla,

that first set me thinking
about the monkey.

I'm not sure I'm following you.

Perhaps I'm going too fast.

I'll, I'll go slower.

The key was, when I figured out

that if Brisbane
could teach a monkey

to impersonate
George Washington,

then surely he
could teach a monkey

to cock a revolver,
sneak up a fire escape,

lie in wait for Helen,
pump her full of lead,

and then make his getaway,

perhaps even still wearing
the revolutionary war regalia

in order to confuse
any chance witnesses.

In fact... oh, and this... this
is way out there... but God...

geez, maybe you
should check to see

if there were any local
bank robberies at the time

that were committed
by a short, hairy man

wearing a powdered wig.

You think the monkey

was the killer?

When I said I was
standing next to him,

I was really most of
the way across the room.

Well, wasn't he?

No, it was Shelby.

Who's Shelby?

He was a vice cop.

He was in love with Helen.

Oh.

Well, that was my second choice.

( laughter)

Can I freshen anyone's drink?

Help me out here, Frasier.

What did you think the
monkey's motive was?

Jealousy?

Or maybe he just did it
for the insurance money?

( laughter)

COP: Hey, hey, hey.

Do you think we should
put a tail on that monkey?

( laughing hysterically)

Listen, if that monkey
did it, he'll swing for this.

Yes, yes, that's all very funny.

Oh, come on, Frasier.

You can take a joke, can't you?

Well, I suppose I can, yes.

Oh, wait! I've got one!

Who do you suppose the
monkey will get to defend him?

Clarence Darrow?

The Scopes Monkey trial.

You know, D-Darwin's
Theory of Evolution.

It was turned into a
Pulitzer Prize winning novel,

Inherit the Wind.

Is that gun loaded?

( jazz plays)

♪ Hey, baby, I hear
the blues are callin' ♪

♪ Tossed salads
and scrambled eggs ♪

Oh, my.

♪ And maybe I
seem a bit confused ♪

♪ Yeah, maybe, but
I got you pegged ♪

Ha-ha-ha-ha!

♪ But I don't know what to do ♪

♪ With those tossed
salads and scrambled eggs ♪

♪ They're callin' again. ♪

Scrambled eggs all over my face.

What is a boy to do?

Good night, everybody!