Perry Mason (1957–1966): Season 7, Episode 3 - The Case of the Drowsy Mosquito - full transcript

(theme song playing)

♪♪

♪♪

(buzzing)

♪♪

(wood snapping)

♪♪

♪♪

Hadn't you better go help,
Lillian?

After all,
he's sort of a relative.

In a minute.



Go see what happened,
Mr. Sommers.

Yes, Miss Bradisson.

What is it, Sandy?
What happened?

Uh, Banning Grant took a hit
in the abandoned mine shaft.

Dead?

You ought to know
better than that now.

Take more than a fall to kill

a tough, old
mountain goat like me.

Get me off of here, Sandy.

You just wait here, Ban.
We'll get some help.

No telling what might be broken.

Landed on my head,
so how could anything be broken?

Jason, come on,
let's get him upstairs.

Coming, Miss Nell.



Let's take it easy.

We'll take good care of you.

NELL:
Seems to me, at your age,

you ought to have enough sense

not to go falling
down mine shafts.

What did happen, Hayward?

How should I know?

You said yesterday that, uh,

Mr. Grant's next step
after investigating

the mine that Sandy Bowen
unloaded on Jim

would be to investigate
the gold mines you sold him.

So?

So maybe you decided that it
would be better if, um,

Mr. Grant didn't report
they were worthless, too, hmm?

(chuckles)

So I shot him or something?

Is that it?

Look, what do I care
what the old man reports?

I'm a mining broker,

but if Jim, as president
of the Grant Mining Company,

wants to buy worthless mines
from me, I sell them to him.

There's nothing illegal in that.

Nor in you and Jim splitting
the proceeds afterwards.

Well, the old man's never
going to find out about that.

Oh, what is all this, Lillian?

You gave your husband the idea
to begin with.

It's worked out just fine.

Nearly $200,000 so far,
and more to come.

Now, don't tell me
you're getting cold feet.

Then you didn't do anything
to Mr. Grant?

No, and neither did
anybody else.

Of all the crazy...

Then why did it happen

just when he started
losing ground?

I couldn't talk to Mr. Grant,

but, uh, they say
he had an accident.

That's all.

Uh, he took a tumble.

Uh, an old ladder gave way
in the Big Chance Mine.

Well, I'd better see
if there's anything I can do.

You'll wait for me?

If you want.

Wasn't Mr. Bradisson supposed
to be here this morning?

Uh, Jim telephoned,
said he'd be late.

Said he wanted to check on one
of the new mines he bought.

Not the Big Chance.

He didn't say.

Which room is he in, Miss Wyatt?

He's resting.

And I aim to see
he's not disturbed.

Not by you or anybody else,
Miss Bradisson.

Well, aren't you forgetting?

Mr. Grant's my husband's
stepfather.

He could be your stepfather,
and I still wouldn't let you in.

Not till he sees the doctor.

Doctor ain't all he's
going to see, Miss Bradisson.

That ain't all by a long shot.

Howdy, Mr. Mason.

The name's Sandy Bowen.

I was sent here by...

uh, by...

That's all right, Mr. Bowen.

Miss Street is my
confidential secretary.

Now, you were sent here by whom?

Uh, Banning Grant.

He... he said you knew him.

Yes, I do, quite well.

He's sort of laid up.

He'd like for you to come
to see him in Gold Gulch.

Mr. Bowen, Mr. Grant
is a good friend of mine,

but I can't leave
for the Mojave now,

not just like that.

Tell him when he's better
to come and see me.

Well, the trouble is, uh,

he's liable
to get worse instead.

He's that ill?

No.

But it appears somebody's
of a mind to see that he is.

Sure beats me where Sandy
got a loco idea like that.

Nobody's trying to kill me.

Accident, pure and simple.

And no harm done,
according to Doc Evans.

Just shaken up a little.

When was the Big Chance Mine
abandoned, Mr. Grant?

About 1932 or 1933.

You have been in the mine
recently, of course?

No, I haven't.

Well, what made you ask that?

With all your experience,

wouldn't you have checked
the ladder carefully,

unless you had reason
to believe it was sound?

Well, I was woolgathering,
Mr. Mason.

That's all.

Now, let's get down to business.

What I really want you for

is to represent Sandy Bowen
in a fraud suit.

Fraud suit?

Over the Big Chance Mine.

Seems he salted it
with some high-grade gold ore,

and then flimflammed
the Grant Mining Company

into buying it.

Now, just a minute.

The Grant Mining Company
is your company.

Are you trying to retain me

so you can control both sides
of the litigation?

No, no, it's not
my company anymore.

I'm only a minor stockholder.

My late wife's son-- my stepson,
I guess he is, technically--

Jim Bradisson, he's headman now.

He's the one
who got flimflammed.

"Flimflammed."

Sounds as though you think Sandy
hasn't much of a defense.

Hasn't.

They got him dead to rights.

What I want you to do is settle.

Does Sandy want to settle?

Yep.

I'm willing to advance
whatever it takes,

right up to the $5,000 he got.

Only don't let Bradisson
or his lawyer, Moffgat,

know I'm bankrolling things,

or they'll think
there's something fishy.

Is there something fishy,
Mr. Grant?

You mean, uh,

why should I
go to bat for Sandy?

Well, I wouldn't normally.

We're friends.

Uh, even prospected
together once.

But he's not what you might call
an upstanding citizen.

He's been salting
and selling old mines

to unsuspecting folk for years.

He even tried me
a couple of times,

but I was too cute for him.

(chuckles)

But I figure
I owe him something.

Why?

Because he may have
saved your life yesterday?

One reason.

The other is that I was the one

told Bradisson
he'd been suckered by Sandy.

Figured he'd just ask
for his money back,

but Sandy's already blown it.

Now Bradisson's talking jail.

That'd likely kill Sandy,
and I wouldn't want that.

Al right.

I'll, uh...

I'll see what I can do.

May I go through, please?

(Mason clears throat)

Oh, I'm sorry.

I didn't see you.

Is Mr. Bradisson here?

Uh, no, sir, he isn't.

MAN:
Perhaps I can help, Mr. Mason.

George Moffgat,
company attorney.

We've met before, Mr. Moffgat?

Hardly.

Corporation-- not criminal-- law
is my field.

But I've seen your picture
in the newspapers.

Is there something I can do?

Call off your suit
against Sandy Bowen.

Oh?

In return for what, Mr. Mason?

I'm prepared to refund
the purchase price

of the mine your company
bought from him.

The entire $5,000?

That's right.

But where is the money
coming from?

It's my understanding Bowen
is broke.

He spent all the money.

Does it matter where the money
comes from, Mr. Moffgat?

No.

(chuckles)

I guess it doesn't.

All right, you've got a deal,
Mr. Mason.

The suit is called off
in return for...

a certified check, shall we say?

I'll, um, have it
for you later today.

That'll be fine.

And, Mr. Mason...

I must say,

your reputation
has been greatly exaggerated.

My reputation?

As being a difficult man
to come to terms with.

When the occasion requires,
Mr. Moffgat,

I can be difficult.

Quite difficult.

MAN:
Mr. Mason.

The lady with you
tells me you're a lawyer.

Yes, I am.

Are you representing
Jim Bradisson or old Mr. Grant?

Why do you ask that?

If you're representing
Bradisson,

I think I should warn you.

People here in town
aren't too happy about him

or anybody associated with him.

What would you figure
has been nibbling

on these ladder crosspieces,
Mr. Mason?

Termites?

(chuckles)

Certainly not termites.

I'd say an individual
with a very sharp crosscut saw.

Then somebody really did try
to kill Mr. Grant.

Well, they sure wasn't trying

to improve his health,
Miss Street.

It's funny he told you

he hadn't been
down the mine before.

Why?

Well, I'm right sure he had.

Now, my camp's over there.

A couple of nights ago,
saw a light here.

But it was gone
when I come over.

But down the shaft,
I heard a mosquito buzzing.

Mosquito buzzing?

Yeah, that's the sound
a mineral light makes.

What in the world
is a mineral light?

It's a black light, Della.

An electrical device
that prospectors use.

It sends out rays

that makes any metal
embedded in the rock fluoresce.

Uh, Grant's got one, too.

Might be broke up a little
from the fall, but...

Did you, uh, talk
to Mr. Grant about this?

Maybe get myself shot
if it wasn't him?

Nope.

I skedaddled.

I think we better
be doing the same thing.

MOFFGAT:
Mr. Mason.

I'd like you to meet, uh,

Mr. Bradisson,
our company president.

- How do you do?
- How are you?

This is my secretary,
Miss Street.

Mr. Bradisson, Mr. Moffgat.

- Miss Street.
- Hello. -Hello.

Say, I have some good news
for you, Mason.

We're calling off the suit
against Sandy Bowen.

- Is that so?
Mm-hmm.

Well, we decided to let
the deal stand as it is.

What made you decide that?

What made us?

Well, uh...

In going over
our financial statement,

preparatory
to the directors' meeting,

we decided that, tax-wise,

the write-off is worth more
to us than the cash.

But dang it, Mason,
that's not what I wanted.

I wanted to get hold of...
well, I wanted...

What you wanted was to get hold

of the Big Chance Mine yourself,
Mr. Grant.

Sandy told me that you had him
sign it over to you,

contingent upon the suit
being quashed.

Now, shouldn't you have told me
what you really wanted

and that there really was
an attempt made on your life?

Well, that part
I don't understand.

Miss Street,
would you mind handing me

that duffel bag under the bed?

Oh.

Big Chance Mine's
no good of itself,

but last week,
while I was prowling

around the same property
to see how big a job of salting

Sandy had done, I found these.

Old Indian arrow.

And nearby, I found another.

Little further along, I stumbled
on the start of an old shaft

hidden by brush,
about the size of a coyote hole,

and in it, I found these.

It's gold all right.

And this old single-action Colt.

The owner's name
notched on the handle.

Boler.

Huh.

That name seems familiar.

It should.

Name of one of the most famous
lost mines in the country.

Old Boler made his strike
in '74.

Brought in some
of the richest gold ore

ever assayed hereabouts.

Told the folks there was

a million dollars more of it
back in the hills,

staged a celebration,
and then sneaked out of town

and was never seen again.

Sandy don't know it,

but right spang in the middle
of the property he was salting

is the million-dollar Boler mine

that nobody's ever
been able to find until now.

No other answer possible.

The old boy found something

while he was checking
on the mine Bowen sold us.

Something big.

Now he's trying to get it
for himself.

You sure it's Grant?

Well, it can't be Bowen.

He spent every cent
he got from us.

And the lawyer conferred
with Grant

just before he made his offer.

Isn't that so, Nell?

Yes, but...

but it isn't like Banning Grant
to do anything underhanded.

Now, don't forget, he feels we
took the company away from him.

Well, didn't you?

The point is, we can't force him
to tell us what he found.

MOFFGAT:
Oh, but we can.

He's still a minor stockholder.

So we can elect him a director.

And, by law, a director

must reveal anything he knows

that might affect
the corporate assets.

Uh, which means we'll have him
over a barrel.

Are we all in favor?

BOTH:
Aye.

Sommers.

You know I always vote
the way you say, Mr. Bradisson.

Aye.

Nell.

Oh, I suppose
I'll have to go along

if it'll help the company.

Carried unanimously,
Banning Grant is now a director.

Any other business?

What about
the quarterly dividend?

In view of our, uh,

heavy responsibilities
for our new properties,

well, any dividend's
out of the question.

Don't you realize

that practically every soul
in town owns stock?

And they count on the income
to try to make ends meet.

Then they'll just have
to uncount this time.

Meeting's adjourned.

Mood the townspeople are in,

thinking this is what
you might do,

they just may decide
to uncount you, Bradisson.

And I'll be right with them.

You know,
we should have voted her

off the board
to make way for Grant.

Yeah, we'll do that next time.

JIM:
Well, Mr. Mason.

Well, I, uh...
I'm afraid you're too late.

Too late?

There's no need to play it cozy
any longer, counselor.

We know Grant has found
something valuable

somewhere on Bowen's
ex-property.

And we've just arranged it
so he'll have to tell us where.

MASON:
How did you do that?

By voting him in
as a company director.

Don't your bylaws
require directors

to be stockholders, Mr. Moffgat?

Grant is a stockholder.

I'm afraid you're wrong
about that.

He's, uh,
sold his holdings to me,

which, of course, makes his, uh,
election to the board invalid.

However, if you're actually
in need of another director,

I'd be happy
to make myself available.

Miss Wyatt tells me
you're spending the night.

That's right.

Suggestion, then--
keep to the hotel.

Folks here are not too happy

about the Grant Company
not paying its dividend.

I have nothing to do with that.

I'm associated with Mr. Grant,
not the company.

Folks not too happy
with Mr. Grant, either.

Figure he let them down.

So be careful.

Perry, why wasn't
the dividend paid?

Well, according to Grant,
Bradisson and the others

have been bleeding the company
of its cash

through phony mining deals

with a broker
named Hayward Small,

a gentleman whom I suspect

is presently sitting
with Mrs. Bradisson.

Well, Grant made the mistake
of giving his late wife

a majority stock interest.

She made the mistake
of willing it

to her ne'er-do-well son
by a previous marriage.

Namely, one James Bradisson.

Well, why didn't Mr. Grant
contest the will?

Well, he didn't care
at the time.

He was comfortably well-off,

and the company
was in good shape.

It was only when he realized...

Only when he realized what?

That his Gold Gulch friends,

whom he'd talked and cajoled
into buying stock,

knowing it would take care
of them, were being bilked.

Then he began to worry.

And so his friends
are why he doesn't want

the Boler mine
to go to the company.

Yes. The ironic part is,
he can't tell them about it

for fear Bradisson
will find out.

There's still one thing
that isn't clear.

Why the attempt
on Mr. Grant's life?

I can think
of only one possibility.

What's that?

Someone else knows
where the Boler mine is

and wants to keep
the information to himself.

(buzzing)

Mr. Grant?

(buzzing continues)

(buzzing)

(gunfire)

Mr. Grant.

Perry!

It's Mr. Grant.

Thought for a minute there
I was a goner.

Are you positive, Mr. Grant,

you got no idea
who was doing the shooting?

Already told you I hadn't.

More to the point, have you?

All I know about him
is he owns a 30-30 rifle.

At least, according
to these expended shells

I found on the balcony
where he shot from.

Seem to recollect
you have a 30-30, Bowen.

Sure, but it's still in camp.

Say, you ain't
suspicioning me, are you?

I told you I was wheeling
into town

when the shots was fired.

Why, I'd have gone
after the varmint,

knowed what he was up to.

Miss Street?

Well, uh, I only caught

a glimpse of the man,
but I'm sure

he was taller than Mr. Bowen.

Al right.

Tall man with a 30-30 rifle.

Maybe I'll have something more
in the morning.

What are you going to do, Ban?

What do you mean,
what am I going to do?

If you was me,
instead of playing sitting duck,

I'd make myself scarce.

Well, how?

Well, I'd hole up with me.

My camp's where nobody
can get in two mile

without our knowing it.

And I'll let you have keeps
of the 30-30 if you want.

What do you think, Mason?

I think it's an excellent idea.

And it fits in
with something I have in mind.

Well, what's that?

Well, something which should

take the pressure off you--
permanently.

(ringing)

(sighs)

Hello.

Yeah, this is Paul Drake.

Person-to-person from who?

Oh. Hi, Perry.

What's cooking?

When did I shave last?

Yesterday morning, like always.

Don't tell me you're calling me
long-distance to find out...

How would I like to do what?

Find a gold mine?

Hey, open up in there.

Hey, uh, what's wrong next door?

Where's the assay agent?

There hasn't been one here
in 20 years.

20 years?

Well, how do you like that?

And me with the find
of the cen...

Well, where do I have to go?

Bakersfield.

Only, by the time you get there,
the office will be closed.

Uh, you're not a prospector,
are you?

(laughs)

No, just a weekend rock hound.

That's all.

Semiprecious stones,
stuff like that.

But I know gold when I see it.

Brother, do I know it.
Uh, where can I get a drink?

There's a saloon in the hotel.

On my way.

Oh, uh, could you keep
this stuff of mine

in that safe of yours
till tomorrow?

I'll, uh, have to ask
Mr. Bradisson.

Oh, well, uh, forget it.

I've been seeing
too many movies.

I'll probably need it
in the saloon anyway.

Thanks a lot.

Who was that, Sommers?

A rock hound-- and I think
he's found the lost Boler mine.

Whiskey, whole bottle of it,
best you got in the house.

You got cash for it, prospector?

Well, I got something
just as good. Here.

What would you say
that was worth?

What is it, Jason?

Gold nugget,
worth 40, 50 bucks, I'd say.

Well, then, start pouring--

for me and, uh,
the gentleman here.

All of them.

Yourself, too, if you like.

Now look what I've done.

"Boler"?

Where'd you get that?

That? Oh, uh...

I, uh, bought that
in a secondhand store.

Saw the name on it
and thought it'd bring me luck.

Sure looks as though it had.

Could be.

Come on, drink up.

-(piano playing lively jazz)
- (indistinct chatter)

Oh, uh... (laughs)

thanks for sending
the drinks over, Mr., uh...?

Uh, Sprague, ma'am,
Amos Sprague.

And... it was my pleasure.

Oh.

Well, won't you sit down,
Mr. Sprague?

(chuckles)
No, thank you, ma'am.

I'm... I'm keeping my feet.

Uh, sitting might...
relax me too much.

Biggest crowd
since Christmas holidays.

Be Christmas for a lot of people

if he lets slip
where his find is.

BOWEN:
Jason...

how about some service here?

Here, try some of this.

Don't mind if I do.

(quietly):
What are you doing here?

Well, stopped by to see
how you was making out.

- Where's Mr. Grant?
- Back in camp.

Don't worry, he's got the rifle.

This is sure
going to hit the spot!

Mr. Grant?

Mr. Grant?

GRANT: Thought I told you
not to come out here, Sommers.

Well, there's something
you ought to know, Mr. Grant.

Uh, there's a rock hound in town
that's found something big--

most likely
the lost Boler mine--

and he's staging a celebration.

(chuckles)

Well, that doesn't surprise you?

No, because I'm paying for it.

(piano playing,
indistinct chatter)

(laughter from other room)

- Perry, I'm worried.
- Why?

Well, I-I realize
Paul's pretending

to have also found
the Boler mine

is just to protect
Mr. Grant, but... (sighs)

what if that same man
should try to kill Paul?

He won't, Della.

- How do you know? -Well,
because of those bullet holes.

DRAKE:
Perry?

Uh, in here, Paul.

Well, I'm clearing out now,

but, uh, don't think
it hasn't been fun.

All right, be sure
no one follows you.

Wouldn't make much
difference if I was.

My camp's a good
three miles from Grant's.

Well, I'll be seeing you.

Be careful, Paul.

Always am.

(piano playing,
indistinct chatter)

OFFICER:
Hold it.

- You leaving town?
- That's right.

Maybe I ought to trail along,
make sure nobody tries

to lift the rest
of that gold you're carrying.

I'll manage, thanks.

Hey, everybody!

That Boler mine guy's
skipping out!

(tires squealing)

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

(gunshot)

(two gunshots)

(running footsteps)

(knocking)

Now that the coroner's jury
has been selected,

there's something
I'd like to say.

The county coroner,
and the sheriff, too,

are attending
a law enforcement meeting

in Salt Lake, so I've been
delegated to take charge here,

even if, though, I'm only a sort
of an honorary deputy coroner.

It's my understanding
that a... a hearing like this

is just to determine if
the deceased, James Bradisson,

met his death by accident or...
or by intent,

and if by intent,
to determine, if possible,

the person
or persons responsible.

To that end, with
the approval of Mr. Northridge,

the assistant district attorney,

and with Mr. Perry Mason,

counsel for Mr. Grant,

we're going to hear
a number of witnesses.

Pretending to have found
the lost Boler mine, Mr. Drake?

But... well, why
were you doing that?

Two attempts had been made
on Mr. Grant's life.

Someone who'd already
found the Boler mine knew

that, uh, Mr. Grant
had also found it

and, consequently,
wanted to eliminate him.

So it was decided
that I'd find it, too,

which would make it
pointless to kill Mr. Grant.

Now, tell me what happened when
you got back to camp that night.

I'd just climbed out of my Jeep
when three shots were fired.

I took cover,
and then I heard someone

running away
through the underbrush.

I went to my tent
and found Mr. Bradisson dead.

What time was this?

Exactly 11:34 by my wristwatch.

What did you do next?

Before I could do anything,

Deputy Connors drove up
and took over.

No, sir, the 30-30 rifle
lying by the body

wasn't the one
that fired the shots.

The barrel was cold.

But you did find the rifle
that had fired the shots?

Yes, in the brush,
about 50 feet from camp.

It was also a 30-30.

Sandy Bowen's rifle,

with his name
carved on the stock.

What else did you find
that night, Deputy?

Mr. Grant, about midway
between the two camps,

which were approximately
three miles apart.

What was Mr. Grant doing?

Running hard towards his camp,
so I took him into custody.

But you must answer, Mr. Bowen.

Did you or did you not
leave your rifle

with Grant
when you went into town?

I, uh... I disremember.

I might have,
and I might have not.

May I point out something
to the witness, Mr. Chute?

Mr. Bowen, your lack of memory
may well result

with your being charged with
the murder of James Bradisson.

Now, do you want that?

Well, no.

Me and Ban had our troubles,
but we're friends.

So I hate to say this.

I did leave the rifle.

Your memory seems
to have returned

most conveniently, Sandy.

Perhaps now you can remember
the previous night

when you fired three shots

from the same rifle
at Banning Grant

from across the street.

But I didn't!

I told you, I was just driving
into town when that happened.

And just approaching
the Big Chance Mine

when he had his fall there.

Did you engineer that, too,

with that, uh, crosscut saw?

That's your name carved
on the handle, isn't it?

Well, yes.

All right,
I did saw on the ladder.

But it wasn't to get Ban.

Who was it to get, then?

Too many fellas snooping around.

I just wanted
to discourage them,

keep them from finding out
I'd salted the mine

before I sold it
to the Grant Company.

Never occurred to me

a smart old coot there like Ban

wouldn't check a ladder
before he went down.

After I told Mr. Grant

about the man supposed
to have found the Boler mine,

uh, we talked for a few minutes,
and then I drove back to town.

Uh, what time was all this?

About... 10:30
when I left Mr. Grant,

and about 11:00
when I got back to town.

How was it, Mr. Sommers,
you were able to find Mr. Grant?

Go ahead.

Well, I'd been
helping Mr. Grant,

uh, try to get back his company,

giving him information on
the deals made by Mr. Bradisson.

So, before he left town
on the night

he was shot at,
he told me where he'd be

in case I wanted to reach him.

And why were you,
an employee of the company,

helping Mr. Grant?

On account of the townspeople,

Mr. Mason, good friends,
being victimized,

and Mr. Grant, their only hope.

Now, um, could it be that night

you thought of a quicker way
of helping your friends?

Uh, by killing Mr. Bradisson,
you mean? Oh, no.

You knew Mr. Grant had found
the lost Boler mine, didn't you?

- Yes. -And didn't he tell you
that night in camp

-what Mr. Drake was doing
and where he was camped? -Yes.

And didn't you then drive there

and, finding Bradisson
already there,

use that opportunity
to kill him?

But I drove straight home,
Mr. Mason,

straight back to town.

Can you prove that?

No, but I did.

I did.

Mr. Mason says
I don't have to testify,

but I want to tell my side.

First about the rifle.

Maybe Sandy left it,
but I didn't see it.

Second, the business
of being between the two camps.

After Sommers left,

I got to thinking maybe
I shouldn't have told him

what Drake was doing
or where he was camped.

Supposed to be a secret
between me and Sandy.

So I set out for the other camp

to wait for Drake
to come back from town

so I could tell him
what I'd done.

Just about there
when I heard shots.

Figured I was heading into
trouble, so I turned around.

CHUTE: And soon after that,
Deputy Connors found you?

Running, because I didn't know
who he was or what he was up to.

And that's it.

Not quite it, Mr. Grant.

Since the lost Boler mine

appears to be the important
element in all this,

I suggest you tell us where
and on whose property

the mine is located.

No, sir.

That mine's for the folks
here in town,

and nobody else is getting it.

Mr. Chute.

It's not my province to make him
talk if he doesn't want to.

Seems like it's
getting near lunchtime.

Suppose we break off till 2:00.

So, what, uh, becomes
of the mine, Mr. Grant,

if anything happens to you?

You tell Sandy a mosquito
will tell him where it is.

He'll know what that means.

A little mosquito.

MASON: If Grant hadn't used
the old asphalt road,

his footprints would prove
he never reached Drake's camp,

but unfortunately, he did.

As, apparently, did Bradisson

and anyone else
who drove or walked there,

since no tire tracks
or footprints have been found.

Mm-hmm.

Odd state of affair,

the law doing legwork
for you, Mr. Mason.

I'm afraid what I have to report
isn't going to help Mr. Grant.

All the ballistics tests
are back, and there's no doubt

that Bradisson was killed
with Sandy Bowen's rifle.

And the shells Deputy Connors
found across from the hotel,

from the same rifle?

No. They were fired
from Bradisson's rifle.

Which gives Grant
a real first-class motive:

Bradisson trying to kill him.

News I got's
not so good, either.

Sommers is out as a suspect.

How is that?

Well, in questioning him,
as you suggested,

I found that when he drove out

to see Mr. Grant, he picked up
his jalopy at the local garage,

where it had just
been greased and oiled.

Speedometer reads 94,368 now,

and according
to the garage records,

it read 94,337
when the servicing was done.

Now, that means
he only drove 31 miles--

enough to take him
to and from Bowen's camp,

but not enough for the detour
to the other camp.

He came straight back to town,
like he said.

Could he have done something
to the speedometer?

Well, it hasn't
been tampered with.

There's rust all over it
a quarter inch thick.

Good or bad news, Paul?

Well, two of your hunches
were right,

but whether that's good or bad
I wouldn't know.

Well, we'll see
when the inquest resumes.

Many thanks.

Bradisson first tries to make
Grant a company director,

and then shoots at him.

Doesn't make sense.

Could he have learned
the whereabouts

of the Boler mine in between?

It might help
answer that, Della,

if we could find
the mine ourselves.

Let's try.

We still have
an hour and a half left.

Perry, that mine's
been lost for 90 years.

How do you expect to find it
in an hour and a half?

With this, Paul.

Mr. Grant's little mosquito.

♪♪

Thank you.

(sighs) Perry,
this is the Big Chance Mine,

the one Sandy salted--
the Boler mine can't be here.

No, but this is where Mr. Grant
was going the day he fell,

the day Sandy rescued him.

All right, Paul.

Let's get going on that ladder.

It's dark.

What'd you expect, streetlights?

(click)

(electronic buzzing)

While I move this around,
keep your eyes open.

Al right.

(electronic buzzing continues)

There's fluorescence.

What is it?

What we're looking for, I think.

The arrow must point
to the starting point,

which would be
the mine shaft above us.

And pointing in a direction

about 15 degrees
east of due north,

if, uh, up means north,
as it should.

And the cross at the top?

El Dorado.

The lost Boler mine, Della.

Still on the right
bearing, Paul?

Yep.

Has it occurred to either of you

that the cross could be five
or 500 miles from here,

for all it told you
down in the mine?

It has to be on
the Big Chance property, Della.

Mr. Grant told us that.

He also told us...

There.

That could be the brush
hiding the coyote shaft,

as Mr. Grant described it.

BOWEN:
Hold it there!

Mr. Mason.

How'd you get here?

I can think
of a better question, Sandy.

How did you get here?

Sandy, I'd like
to show you three objects.

One is your crosscut saw,

one is your rifle,

and the third is
the old single-action Colt

Mr. Grant found
in the Boler shaft.

Now, do you see
anything similar about them?

I don't know
what you mean, Mr. Mason.

I mean the "B" in "Bowen"

on this,
the "B" in "Bowen" on this

and the "B" in "Boler” on this.

All quite obviously
carved by the same hand.

Your hand, Sandy.

Uh, yes, I carved them all.

So, then, this revolver
never did belong to Boler?

Nope.

And like the arrows
and the old buckskin poke,

was planted by you
on the Big Chance property.

Yep.

Why, you swindling old...

Hold on a minute, Ban.

Does this mean the Boler mine
hasn't been found?

That's right.

CHUTE: Why did you
pull a stunt like that, Sandy?

BOWEN:
Well, my old friend,

Ban Grant,
was always nosing around for...

for proof that I'd salted
the Big Chance property

before I sold it to Bradisson,

so I decided to salt it again,

figuring that if he thought
the Boler mine

also was on the property,
that any suit against me

would be called off.

Sure worked that way,
didn't it, Ban?

MASON: So, Grant certainly
didn't tell Bradisson

where Drake's camp was,
and neither did Sandy Bowen.

So that leaves you, Mr. Sommers.

Now, when did you
tell Bradisson?

When you got back to town?

Yes.

He had found out
about me helping Mr. Grant

and was waiting for me
with his rifle.

So it was either tell him
or get shot, Mr. Mason.

Did he say then
that he was going out there?

He just went away.

Jim didn't tell me. I...

I never even saw him that night.

But he told you about shooting
at Mr. Grant, didn't he?

Yes.

But he wasn't trying
to kill him.

He just wanted to frighten him

so he would come to terms
with us on his new find.

(sniffles)

If your husband told you
about that, Mrs. Bradisson,

he certainly would have told you
about Mr. Paul Drake.

But I didn't see Jim that night.

But I think you did.

When he told you
he was going out

to force Drake at gunpoint
to reveal

what he knew about
the Boler mine, you followed.

(crying):
But I didn't.

Hayward, tell him.

Tell him.

All we did was try
to follow Drake,

like everybody else in town.

And like everybody else,
we lost him.

Mr. Small...
the records of the Bank of Indio

show a safe-deposit vault shared
by you and James Bradisson,

and I'm quite sure,
when it's opened

by the inheritance
tax appraiser,

it will be found
that it contains some $200,000

obtained by bilking
the Grant Company

through fraudulent
mining operations.

Now, did you think
killing Bradisson,

perhaps with
the connivance of his wife,

would give you
sole possession of that money?

No, it wouldn't-- because
Moffgat's in on the deal, too,

and he'd never
let me get away with it.

I'm not about to testify here,

but in case you've an idea
that I killed Bradisson,

let me straighten you out
on something.

Bradisson never forced Sommers

to tell him
where Drake's camp was.

MASON:
How do you know that?

On two counts.

First, he didn't have to.

Bradisson found out
Sommers had been juggling

the company's books for years.

Little sums,

but enough
to send him to prison.

So he had him under his thumb.

And the other count?

I was the only one
who didn't take out after Drake.

As a result, I was in town
when Sommers came in.

Not at 11:00, as he said,

but at 12:15.

12:15, Mr. Sommers?

That means you
must have met Bradisson

long before
getting back to town.

Now, did he wait
down the road in his car

-while you talked to Mr. Grant?
- No.

And when you came and told him
where Drake was camped,

did he send you on home?

No.

But instead
of going back to town,

you followed him, didn't you?

SOMMERS:
No.

Three miles there
and three miles back,

why, I couldn't have
walked it in hours.

- You had your car?
- Yes,

but the speedometer-- 31 miles,

just enough to drive
to Mr. Grant's camp and back.

Now, you can't get around that.

Oh, but I can.

By remembering
the same thing you did.

That speedometers on some cars
of the vintage of yours

take off mileage in reverse.

Driving backwards, you mean?

No, no, I-l couldn't.

I couldn't have backed up
six miles in so short a time.

Not at night.

You could've driven six feet
or six miles, day or night,

simply by propping
up the rear wheels, Mr. Sommers,

and letting the engine turn them
and the speedometer backwards.

What?

You recognize this?

My car jack.

Yes.

♪♪

Well, I finally
figured out one thing.

What's that, Della?

How you knew Paul
was in no danger.

You mean the close grouping
of bullet holes

in Mr. Grant's window,
fired by an excellent marksman

who obviously wanted
to frighten but not to kill.

There's one thing
I can't understand, though.

Why Mr. Grant put his map--
if you can call it that--

to the Boler mine
in the Big Chance mine.

Well, right after
he made his discovery,

someone started to follow him.

It was Sandy, of course,
but Mr. Grant didn't know that,

so he ducked
into the Big Chance.

And rather than putting
the directions on paper,

which could have
been taken from him,

he put them on the mine shaft.

Mm-hmm, and was going back

to look at them
when he had his fall.

- Mm-hmm. -When I found out that
he'd bought a new mosquito

to replace the one
that was broken in the fall--

the one you, Della, heard the
night of the hotel shooting--

you began to suspect
what it was for.

MASON:
That's right.

One thing still puzzles me.

What was Sommers' real motive?

He claims it was
for the townspeople,

who now get their dividend,

but I think that Bradisson
threatening him with prison

had a good deal more
to do with it.

Well, guess that
kind of wraps it up.

Get in. At least I can take you
back as far as Gold Gulch.

As far as Gold Gulch?

Don't tell me
you're going to stay there.

Yeah, I might.

I'm kind of thinking of going
into the mining business.

This morning, Sandy Bowen showed
me a mine he had for sale.

Gold just lying around
all over the place.

(laughs)

♪♪

(theme music plays)