Remington Steele (1982) s02e22 Episode Script

Grab her, Watson.
- After her, Watson.
The game's afoot! - Right.
- Who's threatening you? - Sherlock Holmes and Dr.
Watson.
- Do you have it? - Really think it's necessary? Best to be prepared in situations like these.
We're always one step behind! It's as though he knew what we were gonna do before we do it! - What do you want with Miss Sullivan? - Watson? Grab her, Watson.
- After her, Watson.
The game's afoot! - Right.
Hey! Hey, Officer.
! Officer.
! All right.
Let's go.
What took you so long? - Flowers for Miss Holt.
- No kidding.
- Where do you want us to put 'em? - Don't tempt me.
- Another load has just arrived.
- Really? - Where shall I put them? - We've been through that.
My office simply won't hold another bud.
Ahhh.
- What about Mr.
Steele's? - I don't think he's too fond of flowers these days.
Nonsense, Mildred.
Everyone loves flowers.
Follow me.
You can put them right in here.
- Put them on the desk.
- Here.
- Aren't they lovely? - Overwhelming.
How many tons does that make now, hmm? - I've lost count.
- Mm-hmm.
- Any signature this time? - The same as before: "Your secret admirer.
" Hmm.
If there's anything I can't stand, it's someone who doesn't reveal his true identity.
- What does it say? - I'm afraid I can't tell you.
It's far too intimate.
- Mr.
Steele! - Hmm.
This is close to pornography.
- The pervert! - One man's pornography is another man's poetry.
This is hardly Leaves of Grass.
If you'll excuse me, I think I'll read these in the privacy of my office.
You can't take this lying down, chief.
You gotta fight fire with fire.
- What do you want me to do, Mildred? Send her a redwood? Remington Steele Investigations.
Uh, I'll see if he's here.
A Rocky Sullivan for you.
Take a message.
At the moment, I'm not in the mood for someone named Rocky.
It's a her.
Oh.
Uh, Steele here.
You gotta get me out of this place.
What made you call Mr.
Steele? Are you kidding? His picture's in the paper more then Paul Newman's.
- Yoo-hoo! - Hello.
Nice to meet you.
This is terribly embarrassing.
I can't go anywhere without being recognized.
- To the matter at hand, Mr.
Steele.
- Yoo-hoo! You said on the telephone that you were in danger, Miss Sullivan.
- You better believe it.
- Who's threatening you? Sherlock Holmes and Dr.
Watson.
Yoo-hoo! I know how it sounds, but it's true! They busted into my apartment, and they chased me down Hollywood Boulevard in a big old car with the steering wheel on the wrong side.
Oh? Do you, uh- do you have any idea why, uh- Sherlock Holmes and Dr.
Watson would want to harm you? How should I know? I don't even go to their movies! - Yoo-hoo.
! - I think that's for you, Laura.
- And how are you today? - Yoo-hoo! Oh, uh-huh.
Do you want us to investigate, Miss Sullivan.
Is that it? Yeah, sure, but first get me out of here.
I got a gig at this club in Reseda.
It's the first job I've had in three months.
If I don't show up, they'll can me! Oh, well, we'll certainly look into the matter.
And report back as soon as we have something concrete.
Mm-hmm.
In the meantime, try and get some rest and stay off Hollywood Boulevard.
Yoo-hoo! Easy for you to say.
Tragic the toll modern civilization takes on one.
I mean, surrounded by a cruel, impersonal world of word processors automated tellers, cars that talk to you- It's a wonder we don't all go bonkers.
Obviously, in conjuring up Holmes and Watson that poor woman was merely trying to return to a- to a simpler time.
Would that be a Rolls-Royce, late '20s, early '30s vintage? - It certainly is old.
- And big.
And the steering wheel's on the wrong side.
Only for some, Laura.
Shall we? Holmes here.
It is precisely 10:27 a.
m.
She's led us a merry chase but we have tracked Miss Sullivan to the county hospital.
No doubt another ploy to escape us but I guarantee she'll be ours before the day is out.
Uh, excuse me.
Have you seen Sherlock Holmes and Dr.
Watson? Are you visiting or checking in? What he means is, did two men dressed like Sherlock Holmes and Dr.
Watson come through? Oh, well, why didn't you say so? - You've seen them? - No.
We'd like to speak to the chief of your psychiatric department.
- I'll bet you would.
- Dial.
- Do you have it? - Really think it's necessary? Best to be prepared in situations like these.
Mmm.
I hope they fit all right.
I had to grab the first thing off the rack.
Believe me, it's a hell of a lot more comfortable than that straitjacket.
Hey, how'd you guys manage to spring me anyway? We simply vouched for your veracity.
- Is that legal? - We told the doctors your story was true and pulled a string here, called in a favor there.
- But I thought you didn't believe me.
- We didn't.
- So what changed your mind? - That.
Don't gape.
It's bad form to let the hunter know he's become the hunted.
Where to, Miss Holt? How about a nice leisurely drive down a blind alley? But first I want to go get my hog.
- Sorry.
We have no facilities for pets.
- She means her motorcycle.
Oh.
Colorful language, American.
Okay, Fred.
Take it away.
You help Rocky reclaim her hog.
I'll double back, catch our company in a pincer.
Don't you just love it? The wind in your face, Yes, well, quite frankly, Miss Sullivan, I prefer my hogs in the form of bacon.
For God's sake, slow down, will ya? This isn't Death Race 2000.
Uh-huh.
Uh, now remember, that's the brake, and that's the clutch.
Let it out smooth and easy.
Yes.
Been beggin' me to teach her how to drive my hog.
Down the alley.
Down the alley.
All right, Sherlock, out you get.
Stay back.
I warn you.
- What do you want with Miss Sullivan? - Watson? - Blanks! - What the hell's going on here? - Blanks! - What the hell's going on here? It's a game.
- What do you mean, "game"? - We're on a magical mystery tour.
I'm Howard Epps.
I teach creative writing at UC Santa Barbara.
- That's my brother-in-law, George Hoffman.
- I'm in industrial dyes.
For $500, we got to impersonate our favorite fictional detective and pursue a case.
You mean, you pay someone for dressing up like that? Oh, we got a fun group on this trip.
There's Mr.
Moto, Miss Marple, Philip Marlowe.
Where does Miss Sullivan fit into all of this? We thought she was part of the game.
You see, we each have a suspect to locate.
Ours was a Miss Sullivan.
We were given a description and an address.
Yeah.
Had the devil's own finding her.
She's made more moves than Bekins.
Naturally when we saw you two storming down the alley we thought you were part of the game too.
After all, for $500, one does expect a little excitement.
This case you're working on- Oh, it's completely invented, but nonetheless wonderful.
It's filled with sex, blackmail, suicide.
All the things that make life worth living.
No, you see, in this one a respected banker has embezzled $750,000.
And two days before the bank examiners are due- he kills himself! Doesn't sound like much of a case to me.
Ah, but the money was never recovered.
You see, according to our scenario, he was being blackmailed because of an involvement with a third-rate actress.
- Watch it, Sherlock.
- Oh, Miss Sullivan you must remember that that was the profile of our fictional suspect.
And acted, we thought, by you.
Well, I am an actress, and I've got my Screen Extras card to prove it.
Yes, well, there seems to be a monumental mix-up here.
And we were so hoping that you'd lead us to Eddie Lucas.
Eddie Lucas? - Do you know him? - No! How could I? You heard Sherlock.
He's a made-up person.
Sorry about the rug.
These glasses do tend to get slippery.
Listen, I gotta get ready for my show.
I want to thank you all for your help.
You've really been bricks.
Just send me the bill.
I'm sure I can't pay for it but, what the hell, I'll give it my best shot.
Just what part does Eddie Lucas play in your scenario? Oh, he's the Moriarty of the piece, the brains behind the blackmail scheme.
Whoever finds him first wins the game.
And the trophy, Holmes.
Don't forget the trophy! - Well, we'd better phone in and admit our mistake.
- Oh, yeah.
Well, sorry to involve you in our little folly - Mr.
Steele, Miss Holt.
- No harm done.
- Who do you call? - The mystery hotline.
Each player has to report in whenever he locates a suspect, noting the precise time.
Do you mind if I had their number? - I'll leave it with your secretary.
- Okay.
Well, cheerio, chaps.
- Cheerio.
- Good-bye.
Nice to meet you.
Bye-bye, Sherlock.
- Dr.
Watson.
- Good-bye.
What do you think you're doing? Oh, just getting the first lead in our case.
What case? Didn't Miss Sullivan's reaction to a supposedly fictitious character strike you as odd? Miss Sullivan strikes me as rather odd.
Yes, well, I'm convinced there's something more here than a magical mystery tour.
Need I remind you that no one has hired us to investigate any of this? Well, aren't you at all intrigued by grown gentlemen playing at detective? Not in the least.
You forget I live with that every day.
Oh, well, then I suppose once Mildred traces that phone number I'll just have to go it alone.
Delighted you decided to join me, Miss Holt.
Of course.
Barry.
Hmm, Barry? Who's Barry? Attorney.
He just joined Feinstein & Feinstein on 10.
I've shared an occasional elevator with him.
Oh, you, uh-you think he might be your secret admirer? It's a distinct possibility.
- He's terribly persistent.
- Hmm.
Hmm.
Definitely a no-frills operation.
Huh.
Sparse.
This is Marlowe.
It's 1:35 in the afternoon.
It cost me a sawbuck, but this cabbie with a busted beak put me onto Vince Pappas.
Last he heard, Pappas was chauffeuring for a General Ingram somewhere in Santa Monica.
I'll check it out and get back to you.
- Then again, it might be Rick.
- Who's Rick? The neurologist on six.
- What have you been doing, canvassing the building? The Honorable Mr.
Moto at your service.
It is exactly 3:17 p.
m.
I am most pleased to report that I've located Bernard Geiger.
He runs a photography studio at 9625 Santa Monica Boulevard under the name Bernard Grayson.
I am on my inscrutable way there now.
Hmm.
If we hurry, we might be able to catch the Honorable Mr.
Moto.
Now, now, this has gone far enough.
Where's your sense of adventure, your taste for mystery, your desire to find the truth? - Back at the office.
- Don't worry.
I'm sure your secret admirer isn't going anywhere.
I just want to find him before he's too old to do anything but admire.
See anything you like? It's 25 bucks for a halfhour.
Equipment's $ 10 extra.
Anything that you and the voluptuous model work out in the privacy of your own air-conditioned cubicle is strictly between yourselves.
Like that equipment? Of course, I don't have to tell you about cameras, now do I? - I've had the most difficult time tracing you, Mr.
Geiger.
- The name's Grayson.
The lab that processed this photograph was gracious enough to supply me with your last known address.
This is quite a long way from the portrait studio you opened up two years ago no doubt with your share of the blackmail money.
I don't know what you're talkin' about! Perhaps this will refresh your memory.
- Hey, where did you get that? - That would be a meaningless revelation, Mr.
Geiger.
Now, all there is left for you to do is to tell me the whereabouts of Eddie Lucas.
Hey, get out of here! Who do you think you are, coming in here like th- Get out of here! Did you hear me? I said, get out of here! - Hey, not so rough, buddy! - Get out of here.
Eddie? Uh, Geiger.
Yeah, I know I'm not supposed to call, but- Listen! They know about the scam.
They even have a picture of Rocky and the mark.
I don't know.
Some little Oriental guy dressed like he's out of an old movie.
He wanted me to tell him where to find you.
Of course! What do you take me for? Listen, Eddie.
This town's gone sour.
I was thinking now is as good a time as any for me to try my luck somewheres else only, uh, I could use a little stake.
Well, I was thinking, uh, five grand or maybe 10 if you're feeling generous.
It ain't fair that you make out so well and I lose my shirt on that lousy portrait studio! How do you think you'd feel if people suddenly found out who you really are? No.
No, no, nothing like that.
No, no, they'd never find anything from me.
I was just wondering out loud.
MacArthur Park.
Alvarado entrance.
8:00.
- Mr.
Moto, I presume.
- Mm-hmm.
Well, let's wait and see what he's up to.
This is ridiculous! Let's go home.
Mmm.
Mr.
Moto is apparently in no hurry to move.
He's playing a game.
Then so are you.
Oh? Don't think I don't know why you're so anxious to pursue this nonexistent case.
You just want to keep me occupied so I won't discover who's sending me those beautiful flowers.
You sure you're not playing a game of your own, pitting your phantom lover against me? Are you suggesting that I'm trying to make you jealous? - Well, aren't you? - Absolutely not.
- Oh.
- Hmm.
Pity.
Because it's working.
I don't know if I can handle all this honesty in one sitting.
Laura, this, uh- this poet of the obscene might be a blessing in disguise.
He's made me understand how very much you mean to me.
Come here.
Would it be in bad taste to raise a toast to my secret admirer? Only if I'm not there to share it with you.
Uh.
Well, it's up to you.
What the hey.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Eddie.
Eddie? Dynamite! You make a hell of a corpse, Geiger.
He's dead.
For real! I don't think this comes with the tour.
- Hey, neat.
You guys come to hear me sing? - In a manner of speaking.
I'm not really a waitress.
I just do this for kicks.
I think it's time you told us the truth about Eddie Lucas.
You have a disturbing habit of doing that every time his name is mentioned.
Just naturally nervous.
What does the name Bernard Geiger do for your equilibrium? - Or Vince Pappas? - I told you.
I don't know any of those people.
I live a very sheltered life.
Now I gotta change for my number.
Shall we, um, sit down? - Ah, ah, Mr.
Steele, Miss Holt.
- Hello.
We received your message, and as you can see, we're all here.
Well, almost all.
Mr.
Moto seems to be a trifle tardy.
Now, may I present my colleagues? Miss Marple.
Actually, Ruth Gompertz from Modesto.
My husband allows me these little flights of fantasy.
- And Philip Marlowe.
- What do you say, pal? John Wiggins.
You know what I love about Marlowe? See, he don't take Shinola from nobody.
See, that's the trouble with selling insurance.
You can't tell people what you really think of'em.
I'm curious.
Doesn't your attire attract a lot of attention? Oh, that's the wonderful thing about Los Angeles.
Nobody looks twice.
Must be the movies.
They just assume we're filming something.
- Hi, gang.
Sorry I'm late.
- Remington Steele, Laura Holt, may I present- - Winston Sakata.
- My pleasure.
- Winston? - Well, my parents wanted to be as American as possible.
They couldn't do anything with the last name, but they hung Winston on me.
- Ah.
- Gang, gang you should've seen the show they put on for me tonight! It was awesome, truly awesome! First, I muscled Geiger in my most inscrutable way.
Well, he panics.
He calls up Eddie Lucas and sets up a meeting.
I follow him to MacArthur Park and- blam, blam! - Oh! - Geiger's bumped off, and Lucas speeds off in a car.
Well, naturally I hop into my trusty Packard and take off after him.
I, uh, lost him on the freeway interchange.
But I did manage to get the license number.
- Bravo, Moto.
- Good show! - Good show.
- Thank you.
- Winston, Mr.
Steele and I are private investigators.
- Real investigators.
You were at the park.
The man that you call Bernard Geiger was really shot.
- Oh, come on.
- He's dead, Winston.
- You were chasing a real murderer.
- My God! We'll need that license number to trace the killer.
Why, of course.
Um, it was six, nine- No, no, no.
Let me see, um- Nine, six- I think, nine- Relax, Winston.
It'll come to you.
Boy, all this reality is really rattling me.
But I wrote it down.
- Where is it? - Oh, back at the house.
I stopped to change shirts.
Yes, well, don't worry.
We'll go with you later and pick it up.
How did you all get hooked into this little game? Well, there was this ad in Mystery Buff magazine.
It sounded like a hoot.
We sent in our money, and a week later there came a packet in the mail with the scenario and the suspect we were to find.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, direct from six smash weeks at the West Covina Hilton, your singing songstress Miss Sandi Stevens.
! - Looks as if another player just joined the game.
- Excuse us.
- I'll kill you! - No! I hope we live to talk about this! Get him! Ha! Stop it! Stop it! Stand back! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, one and all.
A most heroic and timely intervention.
Who was that blighter, Steele? Miss Holt and I are about to find out so I suggest you go back to your table, or better yet, run along home.
You, of course, Winston, shall stay behind.
We professionals must work it out from here.
I trust you ladies are relatively free of any broken bones or internal bleeding.
- Was that Eddie Lucas who tried to grab you? - Uh-uh.
That was Vince.
- Vince Pappas? - My ex.
- You were married to that? - Scary, ain't it? - That's her! - Who? - The girl in the picture! - What picture? This picture.
- Where did you get this? - It was my clue to find Geiger.
Why, that lousy, conniving creep.
! - Who? - Eddie! Is this Eddie Lucas? Nah.
He's a guy who used to come in a club I used to work.
He called himself Arthur Brown.
He used to buy me drinks after the show.
Once in a while, I'd fix him breakfast at my place.
No, nothing like that.
He was kind of old.
I didn't want him to die on me or anything.
Eddie came to me one day and said Mr.
Brown was really Arthur Fowler who ran a bank in Redwood City.
Said he was a valuable source of capital.
Eddie liked to talk fancy like that.
He wanted me to get Arthur in the sack, you know, so he could take pictures.
Mm-hmm.
Apparently you obliged.
I told him no way! He was too nice a guy to do that to.
He was always a gentleman, never made a move on me.
I like that.
Then perhaps it was Eddie who doctored this photograph.
Well, it can be done, and Geiger was just the guy to do it.
What's the relationship between Vince Pappas and Eddie Lucas? He drove for him, ran errands and probably a lot worse.
Maybe you'd better stay at my place.
If Pappas found you once, he can do it again.
Okay.
But first I gotta get some clothes.
"Anything for a buck" Eddie! When you run with swine, you begin to resemble a pork chop.
Excellent work, Winston, in getting that license number.
- You really think so? - Oh, yeah.
Oh, yeah.
First rate.
First rate.
It'll certainly go a long way to catching our killer.
Maybe I ought to stop fooling around with this make-believe detective stuff and become a real- Oh! Oh, Mr.
Moto.
Shh! Shh! Quiet! - Where is she? Come on.
Get up.
- What is it? Come on.
Get up.
Come on.
- Where do I find Vince Pappas? - I don't know.
- You were married to him, for cryin' out loud! - That was years ago.
- Stop it! - Pappas is connected to Eddie Lucas.
I want Eddie Lucas.
You're the only link I have.
Let her go! - What happened? - A nice little man is talking about becoming a detective, a real detective only he never finishes the sentence because somebody pumps him with two bullets.
- Winston? - He died trying to write that license number in his blood.
Oh, God.
I swear, if I knew where Vince was, I'd tell you.
- What about Eddie Lucas? Huh? - I haven't seen him for two years.
Look.
Go home.
Get some sleep, if you can and we'll hit this thing full bore in the morning.
If you do fine Eddie, be careful.
He likes to hurt people just for the fun of it.
Jackpot! Arthur Fowler, president of Redwood City National Bank committed suicide just over two years ago.
Federal bank examiners found that $750,000 had been siphoned from various corporate accounts over a period of several months.
Now do you have a better opinion of computers, boss? Obviously somebody is using our mystery buffs to ferret out the people who blackmailed Fowler into embezzling the money.
- He have any family, Mildred? - A daughter, Agnes.
See if you can track her down.
You got it.
You push the right button and there is nothing these computers won't cough up.
Oh, we came as soon as we heard.
We assure you, all of you, that Mr.
Steele will do everything in his power to find the person responsible.
Go on, Howard.
Tell him.
Uh, we realized, unfortunately too late for Winston that we're in over our heads.
We've come to ask you not to pursue this any further.
We don't want any more blood on our collective conscience.
Then that's it? We all go back to our normal routines? Perhaps shed a tear whenever there's a Mr.
Moto movie on the late show? Somehow I think Winston deserves better than that, don't you? You were the one assigned to find Vince Pappas, weren't you? Yeah, and I almost had him too.
- Oh? - Yeah, you see he used to work as a chauffeur for some retired general in Santa Monica.
I went to see him, but the old guy died of pneumonia five months ago.
- End of trail? - No, no.
See, his wife let me thumb through his papers.
I came across this letter that the general had written for Pappas two years ago.
It seems that Pappas wanted to open up his own limousine service but on account of his police record, he was having trouble being bonded.
So the general whipped off one of those "He was as honest as the day is long" letters.
Do you remember the name of the limousine service? Uh- Yeah.
Dome.
Dome Limousine Service.
You're not bad, Marlowe.
Not bad at all.
Excuse me.
Mr.
Steele.
! You go up against Pappas with nothing more than your anger and I'll be making the same speech about you that you made about Winston Sakata.
Any suggestions, Miss Holt? Yes, I'd like to engage one of your limousines.
Oh, and I'd like to request a driver.
Vince Pappas.
When did he leave? Do you have an address? Well, maybe it was my husband who called.
Yes, yes, that's us.
My little sweetie must've beat me to it.
Oh, yes.
Thank you very much.
Someone else just requested Vince Pappas.
and don't worry about conserving energy.
Pappas.
Bullet hole in the base of the skull.
Damn it! The killer obviously sat directly behind him and calmly shot him in the back of the head.
It appears Lucas is eliminating everyone who could link him to the embezzlement.
We're always one step behind! It's as though he knew what we were gonna do before we do it! Astute observation, Mr.
Steele.
Maybe somebody saw who got out of the car.
Let's start checking the neighborhood.
I'll leave that in your capable hands.
Where are you going now? Prompted by yours truly Geiger has just arranged a meeting with Eddie Lucas.
MacArthur Park, Alvarado Street entrance.
Yes, Mildred.
- Where are you? - I may have found the elusive Mr.
Lucas.
I may have found something too.
- I'll let you know if it leads anywhere.
- Don't do anything rash.
Is that, uh, professional advice, Miss Holt? Along with a dash of personal concern, Mr.
Steele.
I assure you.
I'll be the soul of discretion.
Yeah, be a love and page him, will you? That's my girl.
Thank you.
What are we doing here, and why are you dressed like that? Everybody else in this bloody case has more than one identity.
I didn't want to feel left out.
We're here because his office said he was enjoying a round of golf.
- Who? - That's what you're going to tell me, I hope.
Edwin Lawton, telephone please.
Edwin Lawton, telephone please.
Oh, my God! - Eddie Lucas? - See you around.
- Stay, girl.
I want him to get a good look at you.
- Are you crazy? He just killed Vince, and I'm probably next.
He's not going to do anything here.
Don't be too sure.
Crowds never bothered Eddie.
Once he's seen you, go back to the loft, lock the door and swallow the key.
Eddie, old sport.
Hey, how's it going, mate? Don't tell me I know you.
Yeah, but I know you, and that's what counts.
Got an earful from my bird.
- Your bird? - Oh, yeah, she sings a sweet song about you- all about you and Geiger and Pappas putting the squeeze on that banker geezer- What was his name now? Fowler.
That's it, Arthur Fowler.
Who are you? Uh, Todd's the name.
Johnny Todd.
I don't know what you're talking about.
Edwin Lawton Investments has a real nice ring to it but I mean, Eddie Lucas, blackmailer, might strike a sour note with some of your rich friends here, eh? You might have a tough time selling that.
Stroll on, my son.
Stroll on.
Never done a stretch in time in nick, old love? Anyone who can run a check on your fingerprints and not come up with your real name- Ooh! Banks close at 3:00, so I'll see you at 4:00, okay? Rocky's apartment.
Come up with 50 big ones.
We'll have a pot of tea, maybe some nice fairy cakes.
All right, Eddie? What are you doing here? Same thing you are- waiting for our killer.
He'll come.
He'll come, and he'll bring the gun he used on the others.
- Then we'll have him.
- Don't ever do that to me again.
- What? - Take off like that.
If we're going to be partners, let's act like partners.
Why, Laura, that's a seminal admission on your part, conceding that we're equals.
I didn't say we're equals, just partners.
I see.
Some partners are more equal than others, are they? Oh! Oh, Miss Marple.
- You shouldn't be here.
- Miss Holt left a message that Eddie Lucas was going to be apprehended.
Come early for a good seat? We all have a certain stake in seeing him pay for his crimes.
And how do you want to see him pay? Like the others, with a bullet? Laura, that's a bit harsh, isn't it? Do you think it's harsh, Miss Marple? Or would you prefer that I call you Ruth? Ruth Gompertz from Modesto, wasn't it? - Oh! - Steady, Laura! Steady! Meet Agnes Fowler.
Arthur Fowler's daughter? Yours on the floor, Mr.
Steele.
Kick it over here, gently.
Is this our killer or merely another twist in an already dizzying case? Sometimes good old-fashioned detective work pays off, Mr.
Steele.
Ayoung woman was seen leaving Pappas's limousine.
That started me thinking, and I played the tapes of the mystery buffs calling in their progress.
I realized Miss Marple wasn't on any of them.
I began to wonder why and came to the conclusion it was because she was the one picking up the messages.
That's why the killer was waiting for Geiger in the park.
I mean, Winston was dutifully calling in the times and places of the meetings.
And Pappas- She was in the office when we learned he operated the Dome Limousine Service.
What did you do? Ask Mildred if you could use the phone in private then ask the limo service to deliver him? He didn't suspect a thing when a sweet young lady sat behind him.
But why Winston? I mean, why kill him? Well, Lord knows, I didn't want to.
But even though I destroyed that license number he'd written down I couldn't take the chance he'd eventually remember it.
No one was going to stop me in what had to be done.
Now all that's left is Eddie Lucas.
Then my father can rest in peace.
Your father was never sexually involved with Rocky Sullivan.
That picture was faked.
Oh, he told me that.
But in the end, it didn't matter.
My father was a very proud man, Miss Holt proud of his position in the community proud of all that he had accomplished.
The thought of being held up to that kind of public debasement was just too much for him.
- That could be Eddie Lucas.
- Answer it.
Okay.
Yeah.
Hello.
Johnny Todd.
I, uh, got the money but I'm a little tied up at my office.
Why don't you and Rocky swing by? You know where it is, don't you? Yeah.
Yeah, that I do.
- I'll see you when I see you.
- All right, mate.
Ta-da.
- The Big Sleep.
- What? The killer sets a trap for Bogart.
Whoever walks through the door first is shot, only Bogart knows it's a trap so he forces the killer out, and he's gunned down by his own men.
I'll wager that Mr.
Lucas is waiting outside that door right now.
- Call the police.
- No.
How long do you think we can sit here? It's almost over, Miss Holt.
- Where are you going? - There's been nothing much to my life since my father died.
You can have Lucas for murder.
No! - Cover me.
- What? - And do your level best not to hit me.
- Go.
She was a real dizzy dame, wasn't she? Cooking up that whole mystery tour just to avenge her father's death.
Quite ingenious though, using us to find the people she held responsible.
And now she'll rest beside her beloved father.
Hmm.
A sad end to an even sadder life, eh, gentlemen? Oh! Well, how do you like it, boys? Absolutely stunning! Evocative.
Highly evocative, Miss Sullivan.
Yeah, we've invited Rocky to perform at the next mystery buffs ball.
I'm going to give them a sample of my act, since they didn't get to see it the other night.
We're prepared to have our socks knocked off, Miss Sullivan.
Good day to you all.
Good day.
Ah, Miss Holt! Any progress on unmasking your secret admirer? I had Mildred and her trusty computer check out some of the better florists of the city.
Oh, yes.
Oh, yes.
And what did it come up with, eh? - A bill- - Oh? - for $3,000- - Oh.
charged to the agency and signed by you.
Oh, really, Laura.
I mean, why would I do that, hmm? So you could become jealous and fight for me.
So you could realize how much I mean to you.
What better way to have your cake and eat it too? Aren't you the least bit flattered that I care so much to create such an elaborate ruse? - Not three thousand dollars' worth.
- Okay.
Now- Oh.
These just came for you.
There's bushels more outside.
Really.
Hasn't your gambit gone far enough? Laura, I swear to you.
I didn't send these to you.