Quincy M.E. (1976–1983): Season 1, Episode 2 - Who's Who in Neverland - full transcript

(Sam) Our victim is
a female Caucasian,

35 to 40 years old.

Preliminary impressions.

Lividity, I'd guess it
between 8 and 10 hours.

We don't know how she
died, but we're gonna find out.

If he resists, you book him.

Quincy, it's wound
up, you're licked.

Now will you... Come
on, take it like a man.

I never read word one.

You're so cute, how
come I don't believe you?

Doctor, I believe we're
confronting a double homicide.



Then the police would
know, wouldn't they?

Not until you tell 'em.

They tell me.

Not if you knew
what you were doing!

(Arthur on phone) How's my girl?

(Margo) Do you have to ask?

What's wrong?

What's wrong is I'm scared.

Lord knows I need the money,

but this so-called fictional
account of my life...

Arthur, I feel as
though half of Malibu

is rummaging through
my garbage cans for clues.

[chuckling] They probably
are, and lovin' every minute of it.

Just burn your notes
and keep 'em guessin'.



Look, you've written two dynamite
chapters. and that outline...

You know that character
you call Loretta?

You've painted her better

than she's ever
looked in real life.

You've got Hollywood
and New York by the ears.

I don't care about Hollywood and
New York, or anyone in the business.

It's that episode
in Mexico in 1967.

Those are the
people to worry about.

I advanced you a
small fortune, Margo.

I won't have you hedging
on what you know.

That's not the way
we agreed to work.

And you agreed not to leak word

to the columns. Not
so soon, anyway.

Have you seen today's Times?

You're going to be
a very rich woman.

The question is, is it worth it?

Yes. Use your head, Margo.

Once you're in print, who's
gonna touch you? They can't.

It would be an open
admission of guilt.

But we aren't in
print yet, are we?

And you've gone ahead and opened
me up to the whole bloody world!

I'm gonna get out
of here for a while.

(Margo) Try to crash
out the rest of the book.

I'm checking into the
Sunset Motel in Santa Monica.

I'll be registered under
the name of Barbara Miller.

Okay.

(Arthur) If tight security
makes you feel any better,

But remember where I
told you the money waits,

It's scandal, sweetheart.

Muck for buck.

[clicks]

[ambulance siren wailing]

[police radio chattering]

[car doors shutting]

[camera clicking]

(Sam) Keep them coming,
Eddie. All four angles.

(Eddie) Okay, Sam.

Shoot the bathroom, the closet,

regardless of how it looks.

It's SOP.

Right.

Our victim is a
female Caucasian,

35 to 40 years old.

Now you say that she checked in

yesterday afternoon around 3:00

by the name of
Barbara or Beverly Miller.

Right.

Otherwise, there was no address,

no auto registration,

no luggage, no purse,
no I.D.? Come on.

Look, she had all
that. I don't know.

(clerk) That registration card
must have been misplaced.

I've been looking
a" over for it.

Look, honey,

go into the office and
take another look again.

Look, pal, why don't
you give us a break?

She was turnin'
tricks in here, so what?

No one cares, huh.
At least we're trying

to get an ID. On a prostitute.

She didn't look like one to me.

What's in there

are three brief items
of garish clothing,

a hairbrush and
lipstick. Now, come on!

Look, she came in.
She was dressed up

and she had luggage.

(clerk) Lots of luggage.

(Monahan) Yeah, And
she was a real lady.

[engine starting]

Victim's right
hand is also empty,

extended toward a vodka bottle.

Well?

Done.

What do you mean, done?

Half done. We're not clear
until the bodies are in the grave.

What're you talkin' about?

Yes, but this was a rough one.

That old man in New
York drank like a fish.

Margo, on the other hand,
was in very good shape.

Hey, wait a minute.
You said this was a lock.

Undetectable. Those
were your exact words.

This is murder
we're talkin' about.

It isn't a game of backgammon
down in Puerto Vallarta.

There aren't three
men in the world

who could pick up
on what put Margo

out of her miserable senses.

And believe me,

none of them were at that motel.

You heard the verdict?

For all practical
purposes, cirrhosis.

Poor Margo simply
drank herself to death.

Hey, you relax,
you take it easy.

We still have a little
work ahead of us.

Yeah. Hmm.

(Quincy) Whose
blood alcohol is that?

(Sam) The Miller woman.

You investigated it yourself.

Becoming a real virtuoso.

Everything matching up?

No problem.

She was drinking.

Not the Pacific
Ocean, but a trace.

Mmm-hmm. Do we go in?

I don't know. We're
backed up to Philadelphia

and the weekend hasn't
even started. Where is she?

Outside.

Oh, the whites of the
eyes are jaundiced.

Some epidural hemorrhaging.

Sure looks like
terminal liver disorder.

Maybe, uh, serum
hepatitis or cirrhosis.

You see any needle marks?

Not a one.

You know, I read the scene as
fatal acute ethanol intoxication

or liver failure
brought on by same.

What's your batting
average these days?

Perfect.

Ah so? Humble, too, huh?

Pretty woman. Shame, isn't it?

Well, a $100 prostitute
is still a prostitute.

Sam, old age is making you mean.

What's gonna happen
when you hit 28?

I'm shooting for debonair,

[chuckling] just like
my honorable mentor.

You haven't a chance.

How did you make her
out to be a prostitute?

No baggage, clothes, or
anything else at the motel room.

Take a smear and the
phosphatase anyway,

will you?

If you say so.

I say so.

Do we go in?

Well, unless somebody
pops up with a family doctor,

who's got a choice?

What's the matter? A shooting.

What next?

I figure they've had enough time

to check her over by now.

You're a prime candidate
for a heart attack.

Well, maybe it's
the company I keep.

I don't know how I
survived five years

on the outpost of democracy
with a paranoid like you.

Listen, that's
a little different.

Until we dispose of that
body and the one in New York.

Look, I can't stand
waitin' around anymore.

I'm goin' down to
the funeral parlor.

No, you're not going anywhere.

What's that supposed to mean?

It means I'll take care
of the funeral home.

And you think I can't?

You've got anxiety
written all over you.

We can't afford any mistakes.

What're you talkin' about?

Haven't I always handled
my end? Come on.

Kendal, you will agree,

this situation is a little
different from the old days.

If that funeral director
doesn't buy our story,

if we don't get the body
cremated, it's all over.

Just lay some cash
on him, he'll buy it.

See what I mean, anxiety?

We can't offer any more
cash than what's expected

under a perfectly
normal situation.

Calm, sincerity.

Our funeral director
wants to believe

he's doing the right thing.

Margo was, uh, shall we
say, a family embarrassment.

We have been informed
through her friend,

of whom we do not approve,

that she has unceremoniously
been hauled away by the city,

as they would some stray cat

at the side of the road

and now lies in the city morgue,

unknown, uncared for.

How do you like it so far?

I see. And you represent
Barbara Miller's family?

Yes, the firm's had
a retainer relationship

with Bud Miller for years.

The Millers and my
family are quite close

socially as well.

My very deepest condolences.

I'm sure you well
understand the pain

that family's experienced.

Tragic.

I assume the Millers will want

a completely
private disposition.

You put it exactly
the way I meant to.

It's not all that
uncommon, Mr. Fredricks,

whatever small
consolation that is.

Still, you made this far
easier than I anticipated.

Uh, as I understand it,

you handle arrangements
directly with the, uh, morgue?

Oh, Coroner's Office,
yes. It's all very routine.

There is a mental health problem

with Emily, Mrs. Miller.

The faster we can
conclude the tragedy...

Say no more.

(Astin) Dr. Quincy?

When I buzz an extension,
I expect an answer.

When I leave a message,
I expect a response.

Does that sound unreasonable?

Not at all, sir.

But if you say
it's unreasonable,

I'll back you 100%.

Quincy, I'm not
through with you.

Sam, check these lung
sections for crystals, will you?

Two weeks ago we
reached an agreement,

do you recall?

Oh, not that again.

How'd you get me to
sell my soul, anyway?

You were on duty.

Dodgers-Braves
twilight double-header.

You said you had
to see it or die?

I agreed to have
it taken care of.

Did I say that?

Mmm-hmm.

Your exact words.

Now, Quincy, it would
behoove our department

if the two of us would
sit down together

and evaluate exactly

what you're going to
say at the symposium.

Where am I supposed
to give these lectures?

Palm Springs, Las Vegas? Where?

Buffalo.

Buffalo?

New York.

Now, here are my thoughts.

"Police-Coroner aspects

"as they facilitate
the investigation

of the pathology of homicide."

Catchy title, sir.

Catchy or uncatchy,
the Mayor's office

attaches a great deal
of importance to this.

If it's so important, why
are you giving it to me?

Why don't you give it to somebody
who has poise, who is glib.

I'm very busy. Will you
take a look at this place?

Well, I knew it. I
knew that you would try

to weasel out of this
at the last minute.

Believe me, I'm only thinking
what's best for all of us.

Doctor, you made a deal with me.

And by all that's holy, you
are going through with it.

Now, your plane leaves tomorrow.

Now, till then, you get
busy structuring lectures.

I have some ideas of my own

that I would like to
kick around, you know.

In the meantime, who
supervises this stampede?

I do.

You do?

Dr. Quincy, do you
think that I became

the Chief Administrative
Assistant to the Coroner

by taking a Civil Service exam?

I, too, am a doctor, Doctor.

Oh, try not to
alarm the patients.

[seagulls cawing]

You parked it
right in front again,

and in broad daylight.

Come on, Quincy,

people around the
Marina are beginnin' to ask:

"Why is the Coroner's car

parked in front of
Danny's restaurant?"

These bar napkins are expensive.

Here's a pad. Give
him a pad next time.

By the way, what are
you doing here so early?

[woman laughing] Things
dead down at the shop?

[chuckling] Aren't you
ashamed of yourself?

Well, it seemed to me that...

What's the matter?

That tan.

So what about it?

Reminds me of somebody.

Yeah?

With us or departed?

Hmm.

It's not make-up, is it?

Is there something
I can do for you?

It's perfect, just perfect.

Well, would you like
to put that in writing?

For my husband?

I'll be delighted.

Oh, listen, I'm
interested in your suntan.

You do have it all
over, haven't you?

Oh, I'm... Relax, I'm a doctor.

Freelance, no doubt.

To get a tan like that,
what do you have to do?

Join a private club
or something like that?

Listen, mister.

Oh, excuse me. Doctor.

I have a private
yard, a private patio,

and a very large husband.

And beautiful fingernails.

Danny, could we have some
rescue over here, please?

[sighs] Sure, Lorraine,
Harriet, Dr. Quincy.

How do you do?

You really are a doctor?

Lorraine, don't press it.

Well, is he or isn't he?

Is.

Didn't you see his car parked
right in front of the place?

May I, please?

It's incredible. They
are a work of art.

Where do you get these done?

Beverly Hills, where else?

Thank you.

You've really helped me a lot.

Thank you for letting
me look at your nails.

Those drinks are on me.

Weird.

[chuckles]

I never met a nail
man before. Hmm.

Oh, he may well be
an excellent pathologist,

but when it comes to
administrative decision-making,

good grief.

Sam, I-I-I-let's just
get a little outward flow.

Hankin, that's a natural.

So is Gatz. So is Miller.

Quincy wants to post
mortem the Miller woman.

Well, Sam, she's an
alcoholic prostitute.

That's an obviously
natural death.

I am a Deputy Coroner
trying to organize a stampede.

[drawer clattering]

Jones, we better, uh, post.

Quincy seemed stronger
about posting the Miller woman

than Mr. Jones.

Sam.

Just trying to be helpful.

What did they say?
What did they say?

Our sources were accurate.

We've got the right boy.

He asked all the
wrong questions.

You mean he didn't
smell anything?

Derrick, you're
losing faith in me.

You should have
done it yourself.

I just can't believe it's
come to this, that's all.

Hey, she brought
this on herself.

There's nothing immoral
about self-defense.

You beginning to
doubt it was worth it?

I didn't say that.

Yet. When are they
gonna release the body?

It's on the way.

Hmm.

What do you mean, she's gone?

She can't be gone.
I put her on hold.

I told Astin, Quincy,
but he initialed her out.

Bergman and Thompson.

Moved her out of
here like gangbusters.

Then she isn't a Jane Doe.
Someone contacted a mortuary.

Obviously.

Then who is she?

Where did she live?
What did she do?

Prostitution.

I wouldn't bet on it.

Oh? Even Monahan thinks so.

[scoffs] Another
oracle heard from.

Hello, honey, Quincy.

Listen, plug me in to Borgman
and Thompson, will you?

Yeah, I'm holding.

Oh, relax. Will you
relax, we'll get her back.

[typewriter clacking]

Hello, this is Dr. Quincy,

City Medical Examiner.

Mr. Thompson,
your people picked up

a Beverly or Barbara
Miller earlier today from us?

And, uh, we find in
checking our records

that we're coming up short
on both I.D. information

and a statement from
her private physician.

I presume you have both?

Yes, of course.
Everything was handled

by the attorney
representing the Miller family,

a Harold Fredricks of
Fredricks & Hackbart.

Good. Who's the physician?

Uh, Neal Hammerman, M.D.

Her GYN, I think he said.

He said? Uh, look
at the death certificate

and tell me exactly what he is.

Well, I could call him

and have him call
you, if you'd like.

Tell me what's
written on her sheet.

Uh, Dr. Hammerman is
dropping it off on his way home.

He-he's very
rushed surgery-wise,

so we pushed
ahead, telephonically.

You took his word
over the telephone?

Listen, Thompson, I want that
woman brought back here now.

Do you understand me?

Why not? You did what?

No, no, Mr. Thompson.

I don't think I have
any need for her ashes.

Thank you. All right, Sam,

Gather up whatever you've
got on that Miller woman

and start pushing.

Uh, that blood alcohol I took

still has got to be quantitated.

Well, you took a smear and
the phosphatase, didn't you?

Where's Adam? I want
you to update Adam.

I want him to take a look at
that smear and phosphatase.

In the meantime, I want you to
try to round up a Harold Fredricks

from Fredricks & Hackbart

and Dr. Neal Hammerman, okay?

I'm going to see Astin.

[knocking on door]

Yes?

Astin.

You initialed the
Miller woman a natural

without going in. Why?

You're supposed to be
writing a speech, Doctor.

I want you to hear this.

At 10:30, she was a Jane Doe.

At 1:00, she was at Bergman
and Thompson's, in ashes.

What's your point?

I put a hold on Mrs.
Miller for a reason.

Well, I initialed her
out for a reason.

Why? My desk was messy?

You didn't like the
way she looked?

You did bother to
look at her, didn't you?

Dr. Quincy, all of us at
certain frustrated moments

tend to redirect our wrath

toward whomever or
whatever is available.

But I'd watch it.

Sure, boss. Did you
check her suntan?

Her suntan? Yes.

Uh-oh. What has that
got to do with forensics?

Her tan was perfect.

There wasn't a halter
or a bikini mark on her.

So she sunbathed in the nude.

That has nothing
to do with our job.

Our job is to
intercept everything

the body is trying to tell us.

And her body screamed money!

Oh, in what language?

Nude sunbathing is
illegal around here.

She would need her
own place, private.

The nails she was
wearing cost a fortune.

They'd have to
be constantly done.

Expensive ladies of the evening

have overhead, too.

Plus the fact that she
was in awfully good shape

for that stage of alcoholism.

Now, if I were you, I would
fine-comb that motel room.

Oh, really? Do I
take that as an order?

[knocking on door]

What did you find out?

The lawyer and the
doctor are phonies.

They snowed Bergman
and Thompson.

On top of that,

the smear and
phosphatase are negative,

and so is the blood alcohol.

That means she wasn't drinking.

And if she was a
prostitute, which I doubt,

it was a long time
between customers.

All right, all right,
let's just calm down.

Just calm down. Good grief.

We may have goofed it a
smidgeon on the front end.

But there's still very
little evidence for us

to start running around
screaming conspiracy.

I don't believe it.

A phony lawyer, a phony doctor.

Copping the body for
immediate cremation.

What else do we need?

Dr. Quincy, it's
not your problem.

I will handle it from here.

Now, you busy
yourself with your pencil

and your paper and
packing your little bag

for Buffalo, New York.

Quincy, just where do
you think you're going?

To get you off the hook.

Your initials are on
the release, remember?

[door shutting]

[sighs]

It's a little premature
to be getting hysterical.

What we've got at most is a
misappropriation of a body.

You know, that... that...
that's not even a felony.

It's a disposition of a body.

We've seen this happen
time and time again.

Where're you going?

Uh, back to the lab.

Oh.

Sam.

I'd keep away from
Quincy on this one.

He'd have us believe
that this was, uh,

some sort of

[chuckling] a
worldwide conspiracy.

[sighs]

[people chattering]

Sorry to have kept you waiting.

Oh, that's all right.

Listen, I noticed every
place does it differently.

Over on Sunset
Boulevard they use hot oil.

YOU use a cream massage.

The Juliet Technique
they use across the street.

Oh, you're quite an aficionado.

Either that or
you're very into feet.

Oh, I'm into feet,
hair, eyebrows.

I like the whole package.
Are you the manager?

Yeah.

I'm Dr. Quincy,
Coroner's Office.

Oh, well.

Um, nice, but we haven't
lost a patient all day.

No, no, no, nothing like that.

A woman was found earlier today,

and we had difficulty
identifying her.

Now, one of the few
leads we have is that

she had beautifully
manicured nails.

Now, as a hunch, I
figured with nails like that,

she must've frequented a salon.

Hey, if you want me to go
to the morgue to look at...

No, no, no, no, no, no.

I have a photograph.
I'd like you to look at it.

If you recognize her,
tell me who she is.

Pretty bad?

No, not bad at all. No.

What did she die of?

That I can't disclose
until we're through testing.

Maybe I'd better
describe her to you...

No. No. It's okay.

Are you sure?

Yes.

Okay. It's not bad.

[machines whirring]

Oh, my God.

Margo Bentley.

Are you all right?

[gasping]

Breathe deeply. Come
on, take deep breaths.

Get a glass of water,
will you, please?

Come on. Come on, breathe.

[exhales]

Margo Bentley?

The girl who runs with the
jetsetters and movie stars?

Where's the water?
Come on, please.

Here, drink this first.

(Quincy) What's the
difference how I found out, Sam.

It's a positive on
Margo Bentley.

Old Malibu Road.
That's in the Colony.

(Sam) Margo Bentley, huh?

I think I heard about
her some place.

Oh, you heard about
her in the newspapers.

She's been writing
a book about her life

with the celebrities.
All that cockamamie.

Are you gonna go to the cops?

No. No cops, Sam. Not
until we get a handle on this.

Between you and me,
Astin blew this thing,

but, well, goin' to the
cops is going over his head.

We gotta bail him out.

Now you help me cover,

and I'll make you
queen of Tokyo Gardens.

All right, what do
you want me to do?

Well, have Adam
prepare a blood smear

and a blood agar slant culture.

Then I want you to get
back to that motel again,

and cover it this time
like a vacuum cleaner.

Okay. I'll get out
there as soon as

I get something on my stomach.

No, no, Sam. Do it first.
I'll pick up hamburgers

and meet you at the beach house.

All right.

(Quincy) Boy, you did a beautiful
job refinishing this binnacle.

You are the best, Gus.

You want a hernia?
I got one extra.

That boat's really
built, huh, Gus?

You of all people talking.

You ought to know
about the lower abdomen

and stress.

Lift with the legs, man.

I'll tilt it, you grab
the other edge. Okay?

Go ahead.

That's it, lift it up.

Put it on the edge of the wagon.

Then jump inside, will you?

I ain't goin' in there.

I can't hold it
forever, come on.

Then you go in there.

All right, we'll switch
sides. Put it down.

Oh, boy!

Okay. Okay.

Tilt it over to you.
Okay. You got it?

Inside, now.

Inside.

Okay.

You got somethin' to cover it?

The kids will rip it off of you.

I'm loaded with covers.

I had to ask.

Yes, sir, can I help you?

Yeah, let me have two
Cheeseburgers Deluxe,

two orders of French
fries, two vanilla shakes,

and two large
coleslaws, will you?

You've got some
kind of appetite.

Doubles down the
line? Are you sure?

Hey, I can't eat all that,
half of it is for my friend.

(Quincy) And hurry
it up, will you, kid?

My friend is awful hungry.

Yes, sir.

Fujiyama, what are
your people doin' here?

Doin' here? Looking
around, that's all.

Why?

Seemed like the thing to do.

Look, there's a Police
Department seal on that front door.

The manager of this
motel called my office

and was wonderin'
what you're doin' here.

I'm wondering the same thing.

SOP, Monahan.

Standard Operating Procedure.

Did you get a cause
of death on the prossy?

Yeah. Natural.

Then why this?

Why not?

We're full of cutes today,
aren't we, Sammy, huh?

All right. Where is he?

Where is who?

He who put you
up to this. Quincy.

Oh, Quincy had
nothing to do with it.

As a matter of
fact, he's off-duty

writing his speech.

Sam.

[people chattering]

(woman) Don't worry about that.

[coughing]

Excuse me.

Are you telling me the truth?

Really. I wouldn't...

You should stay away from him.

Right.

Kevin?

Can you keep a secret?

Sure.

I suppose I shouldn't say this,

but Margo's confided in me

about certain people
she's including in her book

you know, being
neighbors and friends.

Uh, let's go for
a walk, all right?

If she prints one word

of that little
happening in Antibes,

I'll slap a lawsuit
on her so fast

she won't know what hit her.

Oh, come on, calm down.

You know Margo
would never do that.

As a matter of fact,
she's got a special chapter

on young leading men like you.

You know, mostly you
and Dean and Larry.

A whole chapter?

Hmm. She's calling it
"The Three Little Pigs."

My dear Claire,

that little joke was
young when you were.

[laughing]

(Claire) Looking for termites?

Oh, This is Margo
Bentley's place, isn't it?

Who wants to know?

Coroner's Office.

No, wait a minute. Not Margo.

I'm afraid so. I'm a
medical examiner.

I was hoping to find out
more about Margo Bentley.

Oh?

I... I was with her yesterday.

(Claire) Wait till
they hear this.

What's your name?

I'm Claire Gardner.

Claire, we're in a kind
of touchy situation.

We're trying to buy little time

before the newspapers explode it

and complicate our job.

Can I count on you to
keep quiet about this?

What happened to her?

Well, we're not sure yet.

Did she have any
family that you know of?

No one. Not anyone.

Will you help me?

What happened to her?

First, will you cooperate?

(Claire) Sure, Margo drank,
but mostly to loosen up.

She had money problems.

You know, aggravation with taxes

and that sort of thing.

The only reason she was
doing the book was for money.

Everyone in Malibu
was on her back,

either to be written
out or written in.

Wait a minute. You're telling
me that she did have enemies.

People with
scandals behind them.

Hey, you're making it sound like

you think somebody killed her.

Look, we don't
know how she died,

but we're gonna find out.

Do you have a key?

I know where she keeps it.

Hey, look, the door's open.

Hold it right there!

(Monahan) I'm a police officer.

Among other things.

Quincy!

(Quincy) He's exactly
what he says he is,

so why don't you put that
away before someone gets hurt.

Oh. Um...

I-I'm sorry.

I thought I was
bagging a cat burglar.

You have a license
to carry that gun?

Yes.

Do you have a
warrant for this search?

Touché, Monahan.

I'll get to you.

How did you know
where to find me?

I'm takin' Sam's place.

Here's his lunch.

And you?

I'm Lynn Dressler,
Frank Swayne Realty.

We manage this property.

I was just checking up
to see if our cleaning...

(Lynn) Why are the police here?

To see him.

Yeah, we're neighbors.
Claire Gardner, I'm Quincy.

This is It. Monahan,
our local lovable sheriff.

You know, I don't
understand this.

When I was here yesterday,

this was full of Margo's things.

Her... her books
and her typewriter

were right over there.

Who's Margo?

(Quincy) She lives here.

When was the last
time you spoke to her?

Noonish.

I thought that she was
absolutely delighted

with this place.

She give you any
reason for moving?

Mmm-hmm. Privacy.

I guess writers need that.

Oh. I've got to run.

I'm showing a house in
exactly two minutes ago.

I guess I can trust the
police to lock up tight.

Um, nice meeting you all.

Oh, and again, I'm
sorry about the gun.

A woman on her
own. I guess you know,

the, uhh, the people crawling
the streets these days.

Takes a lot of courage
just to read the newspapers.

Isn't that the truth.

If I were a smart lieutenant,

I'd go out there

and try to catch
her license plate.

Quincy, regardless of
what's happenin' in your life,

(Monahan) I expect you
outside in five minutes

to explain why a
police seal was broken

on a quarantined motel room,

Ma'am.

All packed and
gone in a few hours

and nobody notices.

That isn't kosher.

Have you had lunch?

[phone ringing]

[phone ringing]

[phone ringing]

(Fredricks) Derrick? Yes.

Where have you been?

Oh, I got caught up
in the traffic, I'm sorry.

We have problems, Yeah?

When I double-checked
the mortuary,

I found out a medical
examiner, Quincy, phoned.

He was, uh, he was very upset.

The same fellow just
showed at Margo's place.

Well, how in the world did
he put that together so fast?

By being very, very good.

You know somethin',

this is gettin'
messier and messier.

Yeah.

Who else is gonna be gettin' on

on this bandwagon now?

Oh, I think he's on his
own. The cop showed up.

He apparently doesn't
get along too well with him.

Yeah.

That doesn't mean
they won't start listening

if he keeps diggin'.

How much has he got?

Nothing so far. Except
an ID. on Margo.

Then we're still to
leave for New York?

I don't think we
have any other choice

if we expect to clean
up the loose ends.

It's too late to quit now,

even if we have to come back

and clean up this,
uh, medical guy.

You know what I mean?

Well, let's hope he gives up.

For his sake.

Yeah.

All right. I'll
talk to you later.

Bye-bye.

Look, the Jane Doe
in the motel room,

is she or isn't she
a natural death?

Ask Astin, it's his case.

I'm asking you
pursuant to my discovery

of Sam Fujiyama on
quarantined premises.

What did Sam say?

A lot of bull.

Now, Quincy, he's scared
about something. What?

Okay, Monahan,

The Jane Doe in the
motel room? Yeah.

She's Margo Bentley.

The lady in the newspapers.

Oh, marron. No!
Not another circus!

Come on, now, Quincy.

What are you trying to stir up?

The death was a
natural. I read your report.

Oh, no, no, you
read Astin's report.

The seat of my
pants says homicide.

They released and cremated her

before I had a chance
to find out who she was.

Look, I don't care what
the seat of your pant says.

That's it. The
case isn't a case.

Now I can go back to my office

and work on the other
29 gunshot murders

spread across my desk.

Come on, will you, Monahan, a
body is stolen for immediate cremation.

A classy Malibu lady
was found in a motel,

made out to look
like a chippy. Why?

Why? Who knows why?

Wait a minute,
I'll tell you why.

Margo Bentley ran around
with that movie crowd.

They're a kinky bunch of people.

And kinks do kinky things.

Like commit homicide?

No, like crawling
off by themselves

and drinking
themselves to death.

Her friends probably
whisked her away

to save her from
public humiliation.

Who knows?

Quincy, I'm up to my
armpits in homicides.

And they're for real.

Okay.

Listen, I guess if I
were in your shoes,

I'd take the same position.

It's about time.

Then you're droppin' this one?

Well, Monahan,

if you were in my
shoes, would you?

(Quincy) Anything?

(Dworkin) Yeah, but I don't
know what I'm looking at.

I've never set eyes on
anything like it in my entire life.

I'm not interested in
your autobiography.

Let me see.

What's up?

The Bentley woman's blood smear.

I can't make it out.

Flip it up on the screen.

[switch clicking]

(Quincy) You recognize it?

No. What is it?

Looks like a color
plate in a textbook.

You know Marv
Babitch over at UCLA?

The hematologist? Sure.

I want you to
round him up for me

and have him bring his slides.

You know what time it is?

He's probably in bed.

So it'll make it easier for
you to find him, won't it?

Get on your horse.

Flip it on the screen
again, will you?

[knocking on door]

Taking anything for it?

Lest I remind you,
Doctor, that I am a doctor.

Now just get on with it.

I know Jane Doe
was Margo Bentley.

I had to hear that
tidbit from It. Monahan.

Better for me than from his wife

who's very heavy
into newspapers.

Quincy, don't toy with
me, please. Please.

[knocking on door]

Come in.

Babitch is on his way.

Okay. You got
that thing with you?

Yeah.

My boys glommed it from a tuck

in the curtains at the motel.

(Astin) What is it?

(Sam) It's a bug.

My electrical genius tells me
it's called a Phillips Minnow.

It will pick up a whisper at
five yards and transmit 70.

Listen, genius, that could
have been in the room

for weeks or months.

Hey, don't... don't
private detectives

use those things for, uh...

Doctor, no schlock private
eye uses a Phillips Minnow.

These gadgets are brand-new
technology and they cost big money.

Big money, big people.

Dr. Quincy, do I have to,
uh, caution you repeatedly?

You know what you have?
A lot of thin, circumstantial

and eclectic gatherings.

Astin, please.

A beach house swept clean
of her possessions overnight.

A family that claimed the body

when Margo
Bentley had no family.

There were phony lawyers,
there were phony doctors,

now this.

Doctor.

Let's redirect
ourselves to the basics.

There is no body.

Thanks to you.

And without a body,

this office has no
justifiable involvement.

Now, should these circumstances

that you find so provocative,
interest It. Monahan,

then, I would be
perfectly willing.

Oh, good grief.

[phone ringing]

Hello?

(Claire) Dr. Quincy? Yeah.

Claire Gardener.

Um, could I meet you some place?

Oh, I'm sorry, I'm
waiting for somebody.

It is important?

Hold on, will you? Sam.

Listen, I'm gonna go home.

When Babitch get here,
have him work on the slide

and see if he can figure out
what it is. Then have him call me.

Right.

You know how to
get to the Marina?

(Claire) Hey, this is some
kind of place you live.

What was it?

(Quincy) A boat. What
do you mean "was"?

She's gonna take me
around the world someday.

Come on in.

You want a drink?

Do I dare?

I recommend a Mai Tai
followed by a Loose Tongue.

Sounds fabulous.
When do we begin?

Right now.

Uh-oh.

I know I promised you a Mai Tai.

I'm afraid you're gonna
have to settle for Scotch.

You know, this is a very,
very seaworthy ship here.

A few minor repairs,

and I'm gonna go to Hawaii

and the Fiji Islands and Tahiti.

I'm gonna take six
months off and I'm...

You okay?

I know you cared a
great deal about Margo.

She didn't have
anyone. Not anyone.

Are you talking about
Margo or yourself?

What a joke we must've been.

A couple of aging beach bunnies.

Why are you putting
yourself down?

You're one of the prettiest,
nicest girls I ever met.

What do you know about me?

What did you know about Margo?

I know she liked herself

'cause she took
good care of herself.

She wanted to live and it
was taken away from her.

Nobody has the right to do that.

[phone ringing]

Excuse me.

Yeah.

I'm, uh...

No. No. I can't
come down right now.

Because I...

It is?

All right. I'll be right there.

I'm sorry. But evidently
it's so scary, I got to go.

It's all right. I understand.

It's the first time
anybody has jumped ship

to get away from
me. Are you kidding?

I'm flattered that you're here,

and if it wasn't
really important...

No, no, no. You don't have
to explain, I understand.

I... I... I know
you're in a hurry.

So, here it is.

After I left you,
I was thinking.

You know, before Margo moved in,

before she had her
phone connected,

she would come over to
my house and use mine

and pay me whatever she owed me.

Most of the calls
were nothin' calls,

but some of them,
the ones to New York,

were real monsters,

like... like $50, $70, $80.

Do you have the New York number?

Thought you might ask.

Do you have any
idea who it belongs to?

No, not a clue.

Did I do good?

Do good?

You did fabulous.

Hey.

Drop around sometime, okay?

I'm... I'm sorry.

I can be back in nothing flat.

(Babitch) That's about the
closest we get in my repertoire.

How close are we?

About like my sex
life and Joe Namath's.

You call that close?

It's a spirochete.

Could be any one of a couple
dozen aerobic leptospira.

Leptospira?

That's connected
to Weil's disease?

Rats used to get that,
transmit it to sewer workers.

It's in that genus, all right.

But if Weil's were that
busy or that hungry,

we'd be walking an empty planet.

(Babitch) No, what we're
looking at is some kind of hybrid.

Come on, Marv, say
it out loud, will you?

Well, the woman.
Uh, liver failure, huh?

(Quincy) We think so.

Hungry little buggers.

Who can I show it
to who would know?

Oh, if it's okay with
you, I'd like to run with it.

I can shotgun cultures to
the Public Health Service,

CSCD in Washington.

Sure, go ahead.

Come on. Level with me.

Are we talking epidemic?

I wouldn't panic, yet.

But a couple of cc's of this...

Quince, it's 9:00 in New York.

Remember, you
wanted to make that call.

Excuse me, Marv.

[phone ringing]

Arthur Ellis Agency.
Good morning.

Uh, can you hold on a sec
while I turn on the coffee?

Hello?

Did you get the
coffee turned on?

Yes, sorry you had to hold.

That's all right.
This is Dr. Quincy.

I'm calling on behalf
of Margo Bentley.

Yes, Doctor. How can I help you?

Oh, wait a minute. Doggone it.

Listen, she gave me
a dozen messages

and a dozen phone numbers

and believe it or not,

I can't even read
my own writing.

You're a doctor, all right.

Listen, do me a favor, will you?

Tell me exactly what
the Arthur Ellis Agency is,

then maybe I can decipher
what I've got written here.

We're a literary agency.

Mr. Ellis was representing
Miss Bentley, before, uh...

Was representing?

Mr. Ellis died.

When?

Two days ago.

Oh, my very deepest condolences.

Thank you.

I guess they were very close.

She was writing her first book,

so, naturally Mr. Ellis
was very supportive.

What happened?

He died suddenly.

Cirrhosis.

Do you happen to
know if he had a history

of liver disorder?

No. Not that I know of.

One more thing.

What's going to be the
manner of disposition?

Excuse me?

Mr. Ellis' remains.

Oh. uh, cremation.
He wanted it that way.

Cremation.

[guns firing]

So I believe there's
reasonable cause

to investigate.

Quincy, have you noticed
what's occurring here?

That disturbance
in the atmosphere.

That happens to be sniper shots.

And that to me is a
much more pressing

and reasonable
cause to investigate.

Lucket, get some gas up there.

Didn't you hear what I said?

We got a body now.
A guy named Ellis.

He was her literary agent.

Now, get your
autopsy report in order,

and I'll proceed from there.

I haven't done an autopsy.

I won't be able to do
one by 5:00 tomorrow.

The body's gonna be in ashes.

So, go do it.

[police radio chattering]

(officer on radio) We will be
using gas unless you surrender.

Monahan, I don't
have jurisdiction.

I don't have cooperation.

The only way I
can touch the body

is if you call the cops in
Stonyshore, Long Island,

and tell 'em to
delay the funeral.

I want you to put on
the brakes long enough

to have somebody jump in
and take hepatic sections.

All right, Quincy, I suppose
you want me to drop everything

and get on it right away?

That would be a big help.

All right, Quincy. Let
me confer with the sniper.

If he says it's
okay to knock off

for an hour or two to
go downtown and do...

All you have to do is
use the phone in your car.

[guns continue firing]

Lucket! Lucket!

Get this civilian out of here.

If he resists, you book him and
lose his sheet, you understand?

Monahan.

Get out of here!

[bomb exploding]

[birds chirping]

(Waterman) You've
got it right, Doctor.

I'm the Coroner for
Stonyshore County.

Oh, good.

We've got a troublesome
case on our hands, Doctor.

We have reason to believe

it may be linked to the
death of Arthur Ellis.

Now, as I understand it,
Mr. Ellis died at his home,

which puts him in your
jurisdiction, fortunately.

Yes, he died in
my parish, all right.

Oh, I warned Arthur.

What he was doing was
plainly courting death.

You warned him? You knew?

Of course, I knew.

I treated the man. Three
packs of cigarettes a day,

drinking martinis by the brace.

It didn't take 2 Jonas Salk
to tell where he was headed.

Well, you did autopsy him?

I autopsied him.
Well, I wandered in,

took one look at the
condition of his liver.

Never seen anything like it.

Inflamed, eh? I assume
you took a section?

What for? I could tell
what killed the man.

That's just it. You can't.

Now you hold on, Doctor.

I've been looking
at cirrhotic livers

for over 35 years
of medical practice.

Doctor...

I could tell a cirrhosis
in a dark room.

Doctor, listen, no
disrespect meant.

But you're not a
trained pathologist,

and I'm talking about an
obscure hepatic bacillus.

Now, its symptoms
may be cirrhotic,

but it's a bacteria

and it is a deadly bacteria,

and we haven't
been able to identify it.

Look, that's why I would
appreciate it if you would delay

Arthur Ellis'
cremation and funeral

until I can get a
pathologist out there

to do a post on him.

Will you do that for me, please?

An outside pathologist? Who?

Somebody from New York City?

Oh, anyone close who
knows his field, you know.

I see. Some 29-year-old
morgue attendant

who's going to show
a simple country doctor

which muscle pumps blood.

A lousy liver section.
It's our only chance!

Doctor, I believe we're
confronting a double homicide.

Then the police would
know, wouldn't they?

Not until you tell 'em.

Haven't you got that backwards?

You tell your police,
they tell our police,

and then they tell me.

Not if you knew
what you were doing!

Oh, Doctor, I didn't mean
to yell, I'm sorry, okay?

Look, how about
a delay of funeral

and an autopsy just out
of professional courtesy?

[electric shaver buzzing]

Well, well, well, well,

I'd say you had a busy
night and morning, Doctor.

No, you have already managed
to malign a County Coroner?

Our police homicide liaison?

And me?

I maligned you?

Stretch your memory, Doctor.

It's because of your
revolving door bookwork

that we lost that woman.

Well, it's because of
your obstinate meddling

in police department work

that we have alienated
the County Coroner

of Stonyshore, Long Island!

Oh, heavens! Say it isn't so.

We've alienated
Dr. Jonathan Waterman,

the Werner von Braun of
Stonyshore, Long Island?

Quick, Sam, grab
the thumbscrews.

I think I've singed the
furs of another quack.

Meaning?

Meaning all you have to do is

pick up that telephone
and say "possible homicide."

Why don't you call one of
your association buddies,

one of your lodge or
convention buddies.

You've schmoozed it up with
every county medical examiner

all over the country.

Do me a favor. Call
the guy in New York.

You know what his name is.

Tishman.

Tishman, yeah, that's
right. Why don't you call him?

And tell him what?

Though we have no body,
we'd like to play detective?

How many times do I
say it? We have a body!

No. No. No.

No. No. No.

It isn't our body. It's
Stonyshore's body.

Yeah.

And Stonyshore's County Coroner,

who also happens to have
been Mr. Ellis' private physician,

sees no reasonable
reason to oblige you.

Quincy, it's wound
up, you're licked.

Now will you just... Come
on, take it like a man.

You hear that, Sam?
A double homicide

and he's talking sportsmanship.

Philosophically speaking,
this whole situation stinks.

Speaking of speaking,

Doctor, you know you are
due in Buffalo tomorrow.

I have your
tickets in my office.

I will not accept anything

but your assurance that
you'll be on the plane.

Okay, okay, you win, Astin.

That's odd. Because I
expected a last-ditch paroxysm

of kicking, screaming...

Sportsmanship, remember?

Win or lose, I always play fair.

You are gonna
be on the airplane?

Of course.

Your word of honor that
you will be on the airplane?

My word of honor.

All of it?

My word of honor I will
be on the airplane, sir.

Come on, Sam, help
me pack, will you?

I don't know how to pack.

Who's talking about clothes?

I want the largest
microscope I can find

and a complete section kit.

These are great for anxiety.
I'd say from these alone

that you have one
crackerjack internist.

Uh, would you like some coffee?

No, thanks. I had
a lot on the plane.

Well, that does
make one sort of think.

I mean, if Mr. Ellis had
been taking these pills

to relax instead of
all that drinking...

Oh, that reminds me.

You said something on the phone

about Mr. Ellis
leaving instructions

as to his disposition.

His cremation.
How was that done?

Well, he left a
letter in his desk.

Wow.

Now, you have to admire

that kind of
forethought in a person

who wasn't even
expecting to die.

I bet he was an organized man.

Uh, well, I don't want
to speak ”I of the dead,

but he was messy.

No kiddin'.

Mmm-hmm. I mean, it
came as a real surprise to me,

especially since
it was typewritten.

Why would that surprise you?

Well, Mr. Ellis
almost never typed,

and when he did, it
was a... It was a mess.

And this was a
real neat letter, huh?

Immaculate.

It'd take days to get
an analysis out of that.

I beg your pardon?

Oh, I was thinking of
the widow, Mrs. Ellis.

I was wondering whether
to call her up there.

What with the grief, the
people, the receiving at home.

Sometimes they need things from
downtown and they forget them.

Doctor, I must say,

you're uncommonly
nice for a doctor.

Thank you.

I think I better take
the call in private.

(Mrs. Ellis) Those
flowers are just divine.

Just follow me and I'll
show you where they go.

What's this?

No, not that, that's
too much. Too much.

[phone ringing] Oh,
what about over here?

By the drapes.

Be careful you don't spill any
water on the carpet. All right?

Lovely. Just lovely.

[clearing throat]

Beatrice, where are
you, for heaven's sakes?

Mrs. Ellis,

this is Dr. Quincy,
Coroner's Office.

I'd like to offer
my condolences.

Well, thank you very much.

Everyone has been most kind

and generous
throughout our ordeal.

Well, Mrs. Ellis,
there were some tests

taken on your late husband,

and we're having difficulty

understanding some
things we're finding.

From a public health standpoint,

we feel it's necessary
to delay the funeral

until, well, tomorrow
when we'll know more, see?

Delay the funeral?

[whispering] Are
you out of your mind?

People, people who
matter are driving in

from every corner of New England

to pay their final respects
to a publishing giant.

Uh, Mrs. Ellis, I'm keeping
this as unofficial as possible,

you understand that?

Listen, Arthur's cremation
is an integral part

of the service and
it's going ahead.

Mrs. Ellis, I don't want to use

[phone clicking] the
muscle of my office, but...

Mrs. Ellis? Mrs. Ellis?

Mrs. Ellis?

(woman) Eve, why is there
a light on, on Mr. Ellis' line?

The doctor's using it.
That's all right, isn't it?

Well, well, well, well.

For a real estate person,
you cover a big territory.

Oh, what's your name
this time? Deetweiller?

Detweiller,

Dr. Quincy.

Well, I see your connection
with Margo Bentley

was her book.

You went out to
the beach that day

to see if she left anything
for you to scrounge up.

And you are a medical examiner?

It's pretty hard to overlook
a Coroner's station wagon

parked on Old Malibu Road.

She's dead, isn't she?

Yes.

Both she and Arthur Ellis
died of the same thing,

induced liver arrest.

That's double murder
and conspiracy.

Why?

Well, obviously
there's something

so damaging in that book

people are willing
to kill to conceal it.

And I want to see it.

There is no manuscript!

Margo wrote two
very rough chapters

and an outline, but
the copies are all gone.

I don't believe you.

I think you know what's
in both those chapters.

I don't know what your angle is,

but think about this.

If they were willing to kill
Arthur Ellis and Margo Bentley,

what makes you think
they won't kill you?

Because I don't know anything.

I never read word one.

She was Arthur's special client,

and I always
respected his interests.

Now, go back to
Los Angeles, Quincy.

You're not wanted here.

Why not? What's
in stake for you?

Nothing.

You're so cute. How
come I don't believe you?

Let me tell you something.

If you're both ends
against the middle,

if you're lying to me

and you're telling somebody you
have something you don't have,

I promise you,

you're going to end up like
Arthur Ellis or Margo Bentley.

Now, please.

Mr. Castle's here to see you.

Oh.

Mr. Castle.

Miss Detweiller.

Are we, uh, ready for lunch?

Yes.

As I was saying, it's, uh...

It's all round
the bend, isn't it?

Arthur Ellis is dead.

You have no idea
of the whereabouts

of Margo Bentley.

And there's

no trace of the manuscript.

I can't explain where the
New York file copy went.

I just haven't found it, yet.

That hardly means
that it's gone.

Ms. Detweiller, as
Arthur's London publisher,

we have already
invested too much

not to still be awfully
keen on this project.

Our readership simply dotes
on any exposé of Hollywood

or the international sets.

Assuming you don't
find the manuscript,

I'm listening.

Am I wrong in assuming
you alone, then,

know the contents
of the manuscript?

Arthur and I were, uh,

extremely close.

Miss Detweiller,

we are prepared to
pay a lot to anyone

who could do what
would amount to a,

call it a re-creation.

Are you interested?

There is some
interest on my part, yes.

(Kendal) Yes?

I just had lunch with her.

She said she read
the manuscript.

A“ of it?

Enough to feel
very sure of herself.

All right, then, she's
gotta go. At least, uh,

at least she's
the last of it, huh.

Maybe, maybe not.

That medical examiner
from Los Angeles, Quincy,

is here.

He was leaving her
office when I came in,

All right, then we've
got to fix 'em both.

Yeah.

I'll need your help.

Just leave the car here.

[door closing]

You.

Me?

What in blue blazes do
you think you're doing?

How did you get in here?

Well, the important
thing is that I am in here.

Isn't that the important thing?

Dr. Quincy,

City of Los Angeles
Coroner's Office,

on special assignment

with the Senate Investigating
Committee on Mortuary Practices.

The what?

You heard me.

Oh, I know the tricks
you mortuary people play.

You got a cremation,
you try to cut corners,

you try to save money
on the material and labor.

What's the difference,

it's all gonna go up in
smoke, is that right, sir?

We Felsenfields

have been servicing this
community for 111 years.

Never once...

All right, all right,
who put you up to this?

That cut-rate disposal service,

Sleepy Hollow?

(Quincy) Oh. The
community has seen need

to patronize a competitor.

What do they know
that I don't know, sir?

This is outrageous. What
do you want from me?

I want the same thing

the United States Senate wants.

A chance to check your work.

To see that the bereaved
aren't being shot through.

Do you, uh, do you
have to do this now?

We either do it now or
wait for the resurrection

or do you have
something to hide?

All right. All right, Doctor.

If you want to play rough.

I presume you have
the proper facilities here?

The best.

My equipment's in the car.

Right.

[Mrs. Ellis sighing]

Mrs. Ellis, my
deepest sympathies.

Oh, thank you, you're so kind.

What do you think you're doing?

Red roses and rust
Chrysanthemums?

Are you color blind?

[Mrs. Ellis sighs]

♪ J'[organ playing]

And those carnations...
Ah, good Lord.

This is a funeral,
not a fruit salad.

And Arthur should...

Where's the coffin?

Arthur! Stop that.
What are you doing?

Uh, it's beyond our
control, Mrs. Ellis.

Federal intervention.

This is Arthur's funeral.

Arthur is part of the service.

May I speak with her?
Would you take it down?

Mrs. Ellis, please calm
down, 20 minutes is all it'll take.

The tests I spoke to
you about on the phone?

You? Yes.

Oh. Oh!

Oh, what... what... what kind of
a twisted human being are you?

What kind of a...
a deranged mind

does this to a perfectly
coordinated affair?

Your husband had
insurance, right?

Two little words:
double indemnity.

Let’s look on the bright
side of this, Mrs. Ellis.

There's a good chance
your husband was murdered.

(Mr. Felsenfield) Doctor, aren't
you carrying this to extremes?

The vital organs tell
it all, Mr. Felsenfield.

They tell it all.

This is it.

Bingo.

That's it.

Operator, give me Los
Angeles, California, collect.

Yeah. This is a
medical emergency.

Excuse me.

Hey, I certainly hope

that Arthur can join
us sometime today.

No cause for alarm, darling.

(Sam) Hello, Sam?

Quincy, we've been calling
you all over the East Coast.

Wait a minute, I'll get
Babitch on the phone.

Quince?

Yeah, Marv?

We've got it ID'd.
Leptospyrosis,

developed by the
military for germ warfare.

Marv, that's impossible.

That stuff was outlawed,
it was destroyed.

Unless somebody
boosted a sample.

Let me tell you about
this bacillus, Quince.

A dozen years ago, at a
government testing station in Utah,

some of this stuff
got loose in the wind.

It killed cattle, sheep,

the mere suggestion
of it kills on contact.

Tell him the symptoms. Oh, yeah.

Liver inflammation,
dysfunction, and arrest.

Of course.

You get a liver arrest,
you assume it's alcohol.

Listen, I just did a
section on Arthur Ellis.

What we had to incubate
from Margo's blood

was visible here
at first glance.

That ties it. Where's Astin?

He's on the phone
with the cops, Quince.

He's got the Army,

the Public Health
Service, inside of his office

looks like a marching band.

What's our next move?

I don't know. There's
an old lady here

who's being very
foolish with her life.

Felsenfield, what's
going on here? Shh.

Your next move is to get
those section slides down

to the New York
City Coroner, but fast.

I'll call on ahead and
have everything set up.

(Waterman) Who's that? Quincy.

What's the name again? Quincy.

Quincy? He's Quincy?

Uh, Sam, I'll talk to you
later, okay? Bye-bye.

Mr. Felsenfisenfield.

Felsenfield. Field. Feld.

Field. That is a
homicide out there.

Now, you make
sure that Arthur Ellis

is not removed, you understand?

How do you do, Dr. Waterman.

And, listen,

uh, about my equipment,
I'll send a messenger for it.

Homicide?

What's homicide got to do

with the Senate
Investigating Committee?

He told you he's a
Senate investigator?

Yes.

He's a Senate investigator
like I'm the President.

Let's get out of here.

(Mrs. Ellis) Hey, Doctor?

Uh, is it or isn't it?

Is it what?

[inaudible]

It is. Let's go.

(Quincy) Come on.

Wait a minute.

I'm telling you about
a double murder:

Margo Bentley and Arthur Ellis.

Cause of death, a bacillus.

Developed by the military
for bacteriological warfare

and thought to be extinct.

Military?

That's right, one
measly grain of the stuff

on your powder puff is
gonna make you number three.

Now let's get out of here.

I'm glad I was able
to convince you

of the danger of the
situation. Mr. Castle.

Miss Detweiller. I
was just going in to pay

my final respects to Mr. Ellis.

This is, uh, Mr. Castle,
Arthur's London publisher.

This is Dr. Quincy.

Doctor.

He's a medical examiner
from Los Angeles.

I think we'd better listen
to what he has to say.

Certainly. What is it, Doctor?

Well, I think you
both may be victims

of a conspiracy to kill everyone

connected with the book
that Margo was writing.

Well, you can't be serious.

I'm deadly serious, Mr. Castle.

Murder?

Dr. Quincy thinks that they used

some sort of germ
warfare substance.

You know, I can't believe that.

Margo described them as
perfectly charming gentlemen.

Described who?

The two military men.

You know, I-I'm really scared.

It isn't making me
feel too secure, either.

They're setting up
the equipment for these

in the New York
City Coroner's Office.

Why don't we go down there

and put ourselves
into police custody.

But the funeral?

Oh, there's no time, sir.

Well, can you drop me
at the Stonyshore Airport?

Airport?

Well, I was late.

I had to charter a
plane from the city.

Sure, come on. Let’s go. Quick.

(Fredricks) I
appreciate the lift.

(Lynn) Well, we're
all in this together.

Miss Detweiller, the two
military men you mentioned,

uh, what did Margo
say about them?

She called them
her "fair-haired pair."

Military intelligence officers.

They were living
like kings in Mexico.

And Margo was
the queen of the ball.

She knew a couple
of the syndicate boys.

She put them
together, and after that

they had it made.

The military boys traveled
in the top secret world

so that nobody could
question anything that they did.

While the border people were
out busting penny-ante pushers,

they sashayed across

carrying pounds of
cocaine, heroin, name it.

And you thought you were
making a deal to do what?

Rewrite the book from
what Margo started?

Yes.

Stealing germ warfare cultures.

They must be lunatics.

Maybe, but I can't stop thinking

of all those books
we could have sold.

We would have made millions.

Well, easily.

I must say I'm more
preoccupied with not dying

from that
hideous-sounding bacillus.

There's no way I
should have known

it was bacillus, is there?

No, not unless you
were the one who used it.

Where's your partner?

Waiting for us at the airport.

You killed Margo, and,
uh, and Mr. Ellis, didn't you?

A matter of survival,
Miss Detweiller.

We never expected
Margo to become so greedy

as to risk exposing
herself as well as us.

The airport road is
just ahead, Doctor.

That's it over there.

What are you going to do?

When we're flying over
the water, Miss Detweiller,

we'll think of something.

Pull up.

Everybody out.

Go this way, please.

Okay, Fredricks, it's all over.

You're finished.

You seem to forget,
Doctor, I've the gun.

Lot of good that's gonna
do you, or your partner.

That's a police copter.

What are you talking about?

Do you think I'd get
in a car with a killer

and let you drive
Lynn and me out here,

so you and your
friend can deep six us?

Quincy, you didn't know
who I was at the time.

Oh, I didn't, huh?

I didn't? Tell him, Lynn.

Go ahead, tell him.

Go on, tell him.

Uh, um...

Do you think I should?

Sure, tell him what you told me

about the two military guys.

How easy it was to check
who was down in Mexico

with Margo at the time.

Just wanted to make
sure it was you and him.

That copter's been following us

since the mortuary.

Nice try, Quincy.

Get in the plane. Come on, move.

[plane engine running]

(officer 1M) Okay, we have
them east on the runway.

Let's move in.

[police siren wailing]

[tires screeching]

Everybody out of the
plane with their hands up.

There's Quincy.

Hey, you guys really
were following me.

Oh, Felsenfield,
am I glad to see you.

That's the imposter.

(Quincy) What imposter?

I really am a medical examiner
for the city of Los Angeles.

Sure, sure, and a special
Senate investigator.

He's a grave robber.

He's the killer.
He and the pilot.

Well, uh, there he goes again.

We've never seen them, either.

They brought us under gunpoint.

It's true.

All right, you're
all under arrest.

No, I can't be under arrest,

I gotta give a
lecture in Buffalo.

Buffalo? Not today, you're not.

No Buffalo? No lecture? Promise?