Scarecrow and Mrs. King (1983–1987): Season 3, Episode 9 - J. Edgar's Ghost - full transcript

After several old files are revealed in the newspapers Lee searches for the culprit and the old files of J. Edger Hoover.

Sleeping, cupcake?




Nicky, are you feeling
sick to your stomach at all?

I don't think there might have been
something wrong with that champagne.

I'm sorry, cupcake.

Uh... Maybe you caught a bug.

- Are you leaving?
- Got a ton of meetings tomorrow.

But I'll tell you one thing.

Just as soon as
my ship comes in...

we're going to be
together forever, cupcake.

- I hate it when you leave.
- Well...

I'll meet you tomorrow at
the usual place. Kelsey's?

Good. You get some sleep.


Well, good morning. Aww.

- Sweetheart, I love you.
- Good morning.

Well, what are you reading?

Oh. Uh-huh. Uh-uh.

No, no, no.

Grandma, I was just looking for
something for my social studies report.

Why don't you
try the sport page?

Hurry with breakfast. You'll be
late for school. What's this trash?

- Huh.
- Good morning, fellas.

- Good morning.
- Thank you, sweetheart.

What you got this
morning, mother?

I don't believe it.

Look. "Midshipmen drop skivvies.
Nudes sail up the Potomac"?

- What is that doing in a newspaper?
- Trying to sell papers.

Listen to this. "Did the
United States Navy...

squash an FBI probe into
Midshipmen misbehavior...

at Annapolis during the 1960s?

Recently discovered FBI reports
suggest midshipmen and their dates...

sailed nude up the Potomac
during the 1966 incident...

that was apparently hushed up.

Today, some of the same
unnamed cadets are commanding...

- this nation's nuclear fleet."
- Mother.

- Picture, page six.
- Come on. That's probably not even true.

You can't tell from that, that
could be anybody, anywhere.

The only thing
you can tell is...

Well, it must be very cold.

These leaks have progressed
from the nuisance stage...

to a priority one
status. I know.

Don't count on
any long weekends.

In case you need it, I've cross-indexed
the past five days' clippings...

by title, author,
newspaper, okay?

There's a bibliography, vertical
file and a distribution analysis.

So anything you might need
is probably right in here, okay?

- Okay.
- Okay.

- I think I've got it.
- You'll do very well.

All right, settle, people.

The new chief of our Q-Bureau has
special assignments for everybody.

Ahem. Thank you, Billy. Um...

We all know where most
security leaks come from.

Typical one would be a
politician with an ax to grind.

But in the last week, there have
been some leaks that aren't so typical.

Senator Connors.

You know, from what I've
heard that is very typical.

Yeah. And this is the latest
one from this morning's paper.

Well, well, well, anchors away.

Get serious, Francine.

Leaks about missiles
make people edgy.

Leaks about their sex
lives makes them crazy.

That's right. In
the wrong hands...

this kind of dirt can
cause political disaster.

The whole town
is buzzing as it is.

- Amanda?
- Yeah.

All I can tell you is that there
is a strange pattern here...

because these leaks
are 10 to 20 years old.

Now, Francine, you
head out to Annapolis...

see if anyone remembers
these naked sailors of ours.

- Okay.
- You all know Agnes Snow, our Librarian.

If you should find a lead, she can
help you trace it in the old files...

ours, CIA, FBI, so on.

I ordered photo
surveillance for backup...

and progress summaries to
me every other day. All right?

People don't leak things that
aren't current. So let's find out why.

- That was very good.
- Thank you.

Billy, I called in an
old favor at the paper.

The editor described
a source for me...

and I think I get a
quick look at him earlier.

- Could be...
- Who?

It's just a hunch. I'll let you know
if I get anything stronger, okay?

Amanda and I are gonna
troll his old hunting grounds.

- The gin mills on M Street.
- The gin mills?

- Yeah. I'll explain it to you later.
- I hope so.

That's a true leader. He always
saves the tough jobs for himself.

Give it the once-over,
then move on.

We don't have enough time for
you spending it all on barstools.

- Yes.
- That's why I'm taking Amanda.

You better get hazardous
duty pay, Amanda...

because M street is kind of a
combination of tag-team wrestling...

- and full contact karate.
- Do you know that first-hand?

Just kidding, Francine. Sorry,
I never should open my mouth.

- I know you'll get me back.
- You're right.

I really am sorry.

- Oh.
- I couldn't help it.

The unnamed midshipmen
in this Ledger article...

I was one.

Nine months after that night...

I was the father of a
baby girl out of wedlock.

Her name is Mary Austin.

She's never heard about
me. She has a normal life...

a man she thinks is her father.

- Does your wife know?
- Sure, Evelyn knows all about it.

I've done everything I can
to take care of my child...

my responsibility,
short of telling her.

But if this ever
gets back to Mary...

Why screw up her life?

What about these
other midshipmen?

One of them commands
a nuclear aircraft carrier...

and another's in
naval intelligence.

Where do you think an old
story like this came from?

The FBI report on the case
was dropped, destroyed.

The Navy intervened to have
the records expunged in 1966.

They hang on to stuff
they aren't supposed to...

But they don't leak it!
I'd say it was private...

a fluke, but the other stories
I've seen, all this old dirt.

I was hoping you'd know.

Listen, have you ever heard any rumors
about J. Edgar Hoover's private files...

all the dirty underwear
that the old man collected?

Sure, but weren't they
buried or something?

Or something.

See, nobody knows
if they even exist.

After he died, they turned this
whole town over looking for those files.

It was like King Solomon's
mines. No luck at all.

God, those files.

They could have everything
about Mary in them.

- You think they've turned up?
- I think we'd better find out.

Naked boat trips is one thing.

But if somebody's got
their hands on those files...

they can squeeze America's
secrets like toothpaste from a tube.

I'm not interested in dating
any more married men.

I know, I don't blame you.

- Well, hi.
- Hi, how are you?

- Hello.
- Nice to see you again.

You're really having a
great time, aren't you?

That's why they call it
happy hour, Amanda.

- Yeah.
- Come on, get in the mood.

I'm trying. But my
feet are killing me.

We've been standing up
for two hours, you know.

You know this smile
that I got on my face?

I don't even know what
it looks like anymore.

I'm afraid it might be scary.
You know what I'm saying?

All right. We'll check a couple of
more bars and we'll call it a day.


But you can't expect
to get a real bite...

- trolling for the first time.
- Right.

Look, I know the manager of this
place. I'm gonna go check in with him.

- So you start without me.
- Doing what?

- Going with the flow.
- It was nice to talk to you.

- Yeah.
- Uh-huh. Ha.

Oh, you leaving? Oh,
thank you very much.

It'd be nice to sit down
for a minute, let me tell you.


Oh, great.

- Hi.
- Hello.

Craig Laughton.
Everybody calls me Craiger.

- Really?
- Yeah. I saw you come in.

- We've met somewhere.
- No, I really don't think so.

No, no, no. I remember it was
Senator Bacon's cocktail party.

No, I don't know Senator Bacon.

At the reception for Joan
Sutherland at the Kennedy?

Oh, I wish but, no.

Uh... Oh, I got it. The champagne
brunch after the BMW rally.

It wasn't me.

Maybe we... Maybe it
was in our distant past.

- I went to law school at...
- Georgetown.

- Lucky guess.
- Yeah.

You'll have to excuse
me for just a minute.

Because I really gotta
find the ladies' room.

Have you met Craiger?

Maybe it was in the cafeteria
at the Department of...

Hi, you look familiar to me too.

Oh. Ah... Oh.

- What's wrong?
- Nothing. Nothing. Really nothing.

Amanda, you've got to relax.

I know, you know, it's just, I
feel like a piece of bait on a hook.

- That's what you are.
- I know, but it's just...

It's a funny feeling.
It's not something...

Oh, look at that.

- Look, there's Agnes.
- Shh.

That's Nick Cross. The guy
my editor friend told me about.

- You're kidding.
- Just stay right here.


Who took these pictures?

One of our photo
surveillance teams.

Well, well, well, the
elusive Mr. Cross.

The master of disguise. What
are we doing about finding him?

We have 24-hour
surveillance on M street.

Metro police has been alerted,
ditto the FBI and the NSA.

Funny, this doesn't look like the kind
of man Agnes Snow would go out with.

I told you about the
lonely hearts patrol?

- Yeah.
- Agnes Snow is a research librarian...

who works with
classified documents.

It's not a coincidence.
Pay her a visit, Scarecrow.

And take a sweep with you.

Knowing Cross, he's
probably bugged her place.

If you don't mind my saying...

Agnes jumps if you
slam a door too hard.

This'll scare her to
death. Maybe I should go.

- I was just going to say the same thing.
- Now wait a second, Billy.

I conducted a few
interviews myself.

- Okay. Okay. Both of you go.
- Yes, sir.

Well, that will be
all right with you.

Agnes, I know
this is very difficult.

No, it's not, really.

Because the man you're describing
couldn't possibly be my Nicky.

- Could you get me the cinnamon?
- Yeah, where is it?

- It's in that cabinet that over there.
- Sure.

In between celery
seed and coriander.

Ah. Alphabetical.
Should have known.

- What is that?
- Shh, shh.

Amanda, that's not exactly the
regulation way of disposing of those...

Yeah, but it'll work.

- What is that?
- It's a bug.

A bug, in my purse?

That's ridiculous.

- Who'd want to hear what I have to say?
- It's not a microphone.

It some sort of a homing device.

Cross used it to track
you wherever you went.

I'm gonna have to take
her in for questioning.

- Lee, Give her a chance.
- Amanda, time is important here.

We've just broken her heart.

All she can think about now is
how terribly she's been betrayed.

She's probably part of
a major security breach.

Now, we do not have
time to be patient.

We're talking about love.
When you're talking about love...

you have to be patient.

All right.

We... We met about
six months ago. I...

stopped off at
Kelsey's after work.

You know, just
to be with people.

Well, everybody does
that sometimes, don't they?

Sure, Agnes,
everybody gets lonely.

He told me he loved me.

He didn't love me. It didn't
have anything to do with me.

It was just my job.


Oh, Amanda, I never knew.

I never abused my clearance.

But I should have suspected.

The other night
I was sick and...

I thought he might have
looked at my homework.

- And now it's too late.
- No, it's not.

It's not too late, Agnes.
You can talk to Lee...

and you can talk to Mr. Melrose.

And we'll see what
kind of trouble we're in.

I know it's not enough to make
up for what he's done to you, but...

Oh, Amanda, I
don't want revenge.

I just want Nicky.

You can load it over there.

I'll give you a hand.

All right, I'm moving
over to the east end now.

Sorry to keep you
waiting, I'm Cross.

- You've been watching me?
- Well, I had to check things out.

I'm a careful man. I know
what I want, when and where.

Today I want the missile launch
codes for that atomic sardine can...

Cool it, captain. The name Mary
Austin mean anything to you?

You know that story about you
boys dropping trou on the Potomac?

Well, I placed a few articles in the
press just to whet everyone's appetite.

I got a lot more ugly stuff.

I can get that story about
Mary Austin in the paper too.

But my next customer's gonna
be The Washington Post...

unless I get what I want.

- Where'd you get this information?
- I thought you'd guess by now.

J. Edgar Hoover,
may he rest in peace.

You found them? All his files?

The whole shooting match,
Ronson. The whole shooting match.

He may be dead, but
his dirty old files live on.

I can work this
gold mine for years.

Your missile codes
are just the first nugget.

Wait till I go to
work on congress.

- The White House...
- Shut up.

I'd rather take my chances
than listen to that kind of crud.

Just tell me what you want.

I'm about to change my
mind and break your neck.

Oh. Please, don't
make that mistake.

Please don't. Think of Mary.

Get the missile
codes, I'll be in touch.

With those codes, the
Russians can neutralize...

our entire sea-based
nuclear deterrent.

Who the hell do you think
you are to give them that?

I'm the worst nightmare
this country's ever seen.

I'm J. Edgar's ghost.

Try not to worry. You really don't
have anything to be embarrassed about.

Well, Cross has skipped
out of his apartment...

and his answering service
hasn't got a forwarding.

- Oh, boy. LEE: How
are we doing here?

Well, it appears that Agnes
here certainly gets around.

She works at nine different
federal records warehouses.

Thirty-five floors of paperwork.

That is about 250,000
different documents per floor.

It's a big haystack, Lee.

Agnes, how many are
we talking about here?

Well, we dated for six months.

I brought home 12
documents every day.

But I have no way of knowing which
ones of those Nicky might've seen.

Have you ever heard of J.
Edgar Hoover's secret files?

See, maybe you found some of
them hidden in some old reports...

that you weren't even aware of
buried in one of those warehouses.

I only look at the
table of contents.

If there's anything hidden
inside, I wouldn't know.

Yeah, but Cross does.

He waited till you were asleep and
then went through your homework.

- You only brought home samples, right?
- Yeah. Just one or two from each batch.

Just as a precaution to check
before we'd declassify and burn them.

Hmm. So he's hungry for the
rest. He knows what files he wants...

but he can't know which
warehouse they come from.

Oh, but I do. If
they're all coded.

Coded? Look, if you contacted
his answering service...

and when he called back, you
offered to turn him on to more files.

He takes the bait and we follow
him right to that warehouse.

- Think he'll take the bait?
- Well, he probably suspects...

that Agnes is working with us
but if I remember Nicky Cross...

he'd always stuck his
neck out for the big score.

They don't come any
bigger than the Hoover files.

I will. I just wished you'd
told me, Nicky, that's all.

I just didn't have time to
explain, cupcake. I love you.

- I love you too.
- I'll talk to you soon.


- I don't know.
- You convinced me.

He's gonna pick me up
outside in five minutes.

You've seen one of
these before, right?

A homing device. Now, you
just stick this in your purse.

It'll help us stay right on your tail.
- Yeah.

And don't be afraid.
Because you're his meal ticket.

- He won't do anything to hurt you, right?
- Right.

You're shooting straight
with me, aren't you, honey?

I should be asking
you that question, Nicky.

How come everything's so secret?

It's something important.

National security work. Guys
like Stetson are trying to stop me.

I've got to get the rest of this series of
Inter Agency Pension Review reports.

- They're declassified.
- Oh.

These have been declassified
for two years. Routine.

They're scheduled
for destruction.

I don't even know
why they were secret...

except maybe they
related indirectly to budget.

- Which way?
- 30th Street Depository.

- Why are we stopping here?
- Confuse anybody might be following us.

- Who would be following us?
- Lee Stetson, for one.

I've got to be careful. Come on,
lock the door, let's get out of here.

Come on, come on.

Get in the back and stay down.

I sure wish we could
get a little closer.

Amanda, the range on
that homer is two miles.

That sounds that you hear
means we're right on the beam.

Now, we're gonna lay
back a couple of blocks here.

Yeah, I'd just feel better
if we could see him.

Well, if we could see
him, he could see us.

- Okay?
- Right.

It's not as loud.

Will you relax?

We've got to give them
a little breathing room.

Isn't that his van?

Yeah, sure it's looks like it.
- Sure looks empty.

Sure looks locked up.

Damn it.

And it looks like your
homer just struck out.

The Inter-Agency Pension
Review. It's aisle seven, row J.

- There's a reason for everything I do.
- No, Nick. Please.

Don't worry. You won't be here
alone. This won't hurt you. Trust me.

Just remember that.

- What is that?
- Just a little smoke.

Of course, the fire
department won't know that.

WOMAN: Agency Web alert.

Three-alarm fire at Joint
Intelligence Records Depository 22.

- On 30th street.
- That's them. It's got to be.

- Okay, I'm moving in now.
- I want all the cars out of there.

I'll find Cross. You check the
security entrance and be careful.


Hey, I think there's
a couple inside.

This is a matter of national
security. Help me on with that thing.


Somebody help
me. I can't breathe.

Take it easy. You're
gonna be all right. Here.

Come on.



Lee! There he goes.

Come on.

He won't get far. I
know I hit his gas tank.

This will do just fine.

Hold on, we just passed him.

- You stay down.
- Right.

Agnes, where were the
reports, do you remember?

- Aisle seven, row J.
- Aisle seven, row J. Thanks.

- Smoke bombs.
- Yeah.

- Cross is pretty clever guy, huh?
- Cruel too.

It's unforgivable
what he did to Agnes.

He's done it to other women.
A dozen times. The same M.O.

I feel so terrible for her.

It's a clean sweep.

The Hoover files were hidden in
some Inter-Agency pension fund reports.

- They're all gone.
- How's Agnes?

- Excuse me.
- Yeah.

Look, there's a chance that Cross stashed
the files somewhere in the warehouse.

I already thought of that.

I've got agency janitors all
over, but it's gonna take days.

I'd like to know if there's
a needle in this haystack...

- before we start looking for it.
- Yeah.

We're gonna get you home, Agnes.

And you can get some rest
and you'll feel much better.

I'm not going to feel better until
Nicky Cross gets what he deserve.

- Hello, Mother. DOTTY: Hi,
sweetheart. Another late night?

Oh, well. Yeah, you
know the film business.

- Not really. Oh. Amanda?
- Oh, mm. What?

You smell like a
three-pack-a-day smoker.

Well, I've been in the
editing room all day.

You do things today
that you never used to do.

Sometimes I don't think
I know you anymore.

Come on, you know me
better than anybody in the world.

- What are you reading?
- Oh.

Another FBI report on
poor Senator Connors.

- Oh, in the hot tub?
- Yes.

I mean, you know, I was like
everybody else. I was intrigued.

For about 10 seconds. Then
I was ashamed of myself.

- Oh, why?
- Well, because, I mean, you know...

we're talking about real people,
with real families, with real careers.

- Right.
- Well, I just don't think...

they should print that kind
of garbage. Do you agree?

- Yes.
- All right, good. I'm glad you said that.

- I want you to sign this.
- What is this?

This is my letter to
the editor complaining.

I mean, somebody
has got to do something.

What do you mean? Don't
you have an inquiring mind?

Amanda, will you be serious?

Let me tell you
something, honey...

if you'd take some
time for a real cause...

you would feel
wonderful, trust me.

You're right, Mother.


- Hello.
- I've got some fascinating reading here.

Address, phone numbers.

Maybe I'll go see your
daughter at her boarding school.

Don't even think about
it. I've got what you want.

What took so long for you to
call? I've been waiting all day.

Relax. Relax. Just
getting my ducks in a row.

While I'm twisting
in the wind...

wondering whether I still have a
career and a family? Damn you!

Things will be just fine,
if you got what I want.

A phone booth at the corner
of 22nd and Chesapeake.

Forty-five minutes.

Bring the file. All of it.

Listen, I just got a call from
Ronson. Cross contacted him.

We're going to meet in 45 minutes
at the Chesapeake pipe factory.

All right, then I want a dozen men at
22nd and Chesapeake, 30 minutes.

And I want a sharpshooter.
The best you got.

You got it.

I was pulling around this
oversized garbage can...

when that maniac came barreling
down the middle of the alley.

I tell you, this guy was
driving like he owned the road.


The flipping road, as this
Neanderthal man so quaintly calls it.

Has the right-of-way. - Has two.

Two lanes. He
wanted both of them.

Or maybe he can't count.

- Can you read my lips? Read my lips.
- Go around.

Well, it's really sweet of you, Amanda,
but I'm just trying to rise above this.

- You know?
- Sure, I understand.

I thought maybe I drop by...

and be sure you weren't
lonesome or anything.

Well, I am.

I'm lonesome and I'm
angry and I feel ugly.

- Oh, Agnes, come on.
- But I'll be all right.

I just have to start...

and I know you can't do it
for me, but I appreciate it.

Okay. Call me if
I can do anything.

I will.

Okay. I'll let myself out
and you just take it easy.

Hello, you've
reached to 555-4401.

Please leave your message
after the beep. Thank you.

Agnes, it's Nick.

I can't apologize for what
happened but I can explain why.

It involves the security of the
country, Agnes, on the highest levels.

But it's almost over now.

And when it is, we won't
have to live like this anymore.

Uh... There's just one more
thing that needs to be done...

and you're the
only one I can trust.

She's gonna need
somebody to talk to.

Oh, Agnes, where are you going?

He's not here. It's too
open. Don't worry, he'll call.

I'm way over my head
here, Lee, I know that.

- But are you sure this is the way to go?
- We don't have any choice.

Ted, we've got a dozen guys
ready to roll at a second's notice.

Cross makes his move, we'll
be all over him. I promise you.

And this material's authentic?

He's gonna want to validate it
before he turns over those files.

If everything works out right, he
won't have anytime to validate anything.

That's him.


The Chesapeake Pipe
factory, two blocks north.

Someone will meet you
there, give them the package.

- What about the file?
- When I'm happy with your work.

The old pipe factory.
Right around the corner.

Francine. It's the old
Chesapeake Pipe factory.

- Get on it.
- Got it.

Come on, let's go.

Let's go.

Lee. Agnes is here. She's
headed north on Chesapeake.

What the hell's going on?
What's Agnes doing here?

What's Amanda doing here?
She's about a block behind her.

- She must have followed her.
- What?

All right, she's
here. I see her.

Agnes is at the fence.

I don't see Amanda.

Everyone in position.
Sharpshooters ready.

You're with Cross?

Give her the papers,
Ronson. Nice and easy.


Damn it, Cross, you're
not getting away with this.

Show your miserable face or you're
not getting one single page of this.

Cross is at the other
side of the fence.

Give the woman the papers
or I'm going to shoot her.

Anyone out there, I've
got the woman in my sights.

Anybody moves, she's dead meat.

Mr. Stetson.

If you're out there, could
you please help me?

I don't know what to do.

Cross, let the woman go.

You can have the papers.
We can do this nice and easy.

But let her go.

Give them to him, Ronson.
Shove them under the fence.


- Oh!
- Hold your fire, damn it.

You'll hit the woman.

Come on.

Get in. Get in!

Come on, drive! Get out of here!

- Move it!
- Oh!

You okay?

It just a nick. Go
get Cross. I'll be fine.

- Let's get out of here.
- No.

- Give me the package.
- No.

- Give me that damn package.
- No. You've used me enough.

Amanda, stay put.

All right, now it's
time to deal, Nicky.

What kind of deal
you got in mind?

The files. Hoover's files.

- Where are they?
- I threw them away.

You're not making it easier
for yourself, where are they?

Okay. All right.

I put them in a
dumpster for safekeeping.

I swear to God.

- How can I help you folks?
- We're looking for a dumpster.

Maybe I could scare one up.

This particular dumpster
was behind a hardware store...

- on 46th Avenue.
- Yeah.

We get all kinds, lady.

- Could you check it out?
- Check?

Yes, please. Think you
could just do that for us?

I come here at
the break at dawn.

I work hard all day long and they
want me to check on a dumpster.

Having any luck?

Yeah, here it is. We
picked it up at 4:26.

- Oh, great.
- What is it? Your wedding ring?

- Engagement.
- Oh, my, my, my.

That'd be number
three this week.

Well, could you tell us
where you dumped it?

Oh, no problem. Right there.

Yeah, but they're all empty.
Where are the contents?

It's there.


Yeah, come in.

- Ah. Captain Ronson. How's the arm?
- Fine.

Few more days and
I'll be out of this thing.


- Oh, I'm sorry. Excuse me.
- No, no, Amanda, come on in.

- Well, thank you. Hello, Captain.
- I just stopped by to say thank you.

For me, for my daughter.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye, Captain. Good luck.

How do you like that, huh?
That makes you feel good.

Oh, it does.

- What you got there?
- Oh, just a little something...

from the Francine Desmond file.

- Oh?
- Uh-huh.

- Let me see it.
- You can look, but don't touch.

- What...?
- Uh-uh-uh.


Amanda, look, that was a
Christmas party three years ago, silly.


You know, it's not
a very terrific thing...

to be showing people.

- They might misunderstand.
- Misunderstand this? I don't think so.

- What do you want for it?
- This? Oh, nothing.

This is free.

It's the negative
that's gonna cost you.

How much?

Oh, well...

We'll probably start with
dinner at Spencer's and then...

we'll take it from there.