Remington Steele (1982) s03e06 Episode Script

- Mr.
Steele.
- I'm sorry.
Uh, have we met? Amnesia.
The bloke can't remember a thing, not even his own name.
It's all right, Doctor.
I'm cured now.
I remember who I am.
- You do? - I'm Otto Preminger.
You could at least tell us who we're supposed to have killed! Ohh! If you would allow me to, uh, jog my memory.
Why, kill him, Willard.
Kill them all.
Hyah! Go on, there! Come on! Hello.
Oh.
That will be fine.
An unfortunate happening, Willard, but one we must rise above.
We can't allow one intruder to alter our plans now.
Oh.
Uh-oh.
- We'll have to replace Paddy.
- And we will.
This time with someone with a bit more discretion.
This was Mr.
Armdale's favorite.
How he loved his hunting.
Sneaking up on the little creatures and blowing their heads off.
Think of our intruder as a mallard whose time has come.
Mm, mm.
- Excuse me! - Yeah? I'm looking for, uh - Ah, yeah, I'm looking for Orson Welles! - Eh? Or was itJoseph Cotten? Ah! Yes, yes! Uh, Xanadu.
Yes, I'm looking for Xanadu.
! Doesn't feel like a hospital.
Doesn't even look like a hospital.
- It's an Irish hospital.
- Oh, I see.
- Laura Holt? - Yes.
I'm Dr.
Tulliver.
Thank you for making the trip.
Well, your cable sounded so urgent.
Yes.
When I sent that, he was unconscious.
Oh, he's awake now, but there are, uh, complications.
Would you step this way, please? I'm sorry, but bearing in mind his condition I think just one face is all he should be subjected to.
My cable must have seemed very melodramatic but you see, your name and address were about all that we found on him.
No wallet, no other identification of any kind.
Uh, Dr.
Tulliver, you still haven't told me what's wrong with him.
Well, see for yourself.
We have a visitor for you.
Mm.
Hmm? Oh, good morning.
Mr.
Steele.
I'm sorry.
Uh, have we met? This is Miss Laura Holt.
Oh.
Ah, Laura, of course! Yes! Dana Andrews, Gene Tierney, waspish little Clifton Webb.
It's all right, Doctor.
I'm cured now.
I remember who I am.
Oh, yes.
- You do? - Oh, definitely.
I'm Otto Preminger.
What is going on here? - Amnesia.
- Amnesia? That's what I said- amnesia.
The bloke can't remember a thing, not even his own name.
Poor boy.
I feel so badly for him.
It must be awful not knowing where you've been or what you've seen.
And a nice piece of luck for us, eh, ma'am? Memories are a lot like unwanted relations, Willard.
They have an irritating habit of turning up at the most inopportune times.
Don't you worry, ma'am.
He's still a dead duck.
- You do know this man? - Yes.
We've worked together for nearly three years.
I'm- I'm an associate of the Remington Steele Detective Agency.
- Ah, thank heavens.
- You remember that? No.
But a detective agency.
I mean, it sounds exciting, don't you think? I mean, glamorous? I might have been an accountant.
Hmm.
Remington Steele- Is that who he is? It's important that he knows his real name, then his memory may come flooding back.
Remington Steele is the name of the agency.
And as far as the public at large is concerned he does head the agency.
So he is Remington Steele? That's what we call him, yes.
- Well? - Hmm? Remington Steele.
No, no, no, no.
Somehow that doesn't fit.
No, I'm sure that's not my real name.
What about some background, some essential facts? Two weeks ago we completed the Parkinson case.
The dog in Malibu Beach, remember? And before that- I'm afraid you'll have to go further back than the recent past, Miss Holt.
His hometown, near relatives, that kind of thing.
Uh, well, uh- There are gaps.
Of course, and why not? I mean, after all, if I'm the head of this company and she's merely an employee I mean, one can't expect an employee to remember every little intimate detail about the boss, can you, hmm? Are you sure he lost his memory? Oh, excuse me.
You two carry on talking.
Something may come back.
Oh, ifhe can remember anything at all it may help.
Hmm.
Yes, well, uh, the detective agency.
- Yes, I- I know that's right.
- Why? Well, because- somewhere at the back of my mind there's a crime, a major crime that has to be stopped.
And danger.
- What- - But I think you did lie to me, didn't you? I don't have to recall who I am to know, uh what I am, hmm? How I feel.
What kind of woman I am attracted to.
You said we worked together for nearly, uh, what, three years? - Yes.
- Closely? Yes.
- Uh, how closely? - Very closely.
Hmm.
Yet there were gaps? Well, after all, Mr.
Steele, you are the employer.
I am merely an employee.
Looking at you now, I can't believe that for nearly three years, I haven't, uh- You know, we haven't- uh, you and I, you know kind of- Perhaps, if you would allow me to, uh, jog my memory.
- Yes.
- You remember? Yes, yes.
Mmm.
Yes, it's coming now, yes.
- Now you remember? - Mm.
How could I forget such a precious moment? Oh, yes, I remember it vividly.
I- I was lying on the floor.
You were nearby.
Yes, that's it.
You were nearby dead.
Shot.
Except it wasn't you.
It was- It was Orson Welles orJoseph Cotten.
And a crime that must be stopped.
Danger.
Deadly danger.
- I think I should get Mildred.
- Ha! Mildred? - The other woman in your life.
- The other woman? - And you don't mind? - We have an arrangement.
We share you.
Share me? If only I could remember what a good time I've been having.
My.
Oh, excuse me.
- Time for your medicine, sir.
- Oh? - You mean he's lost his marbles? - Not his marbles, just his memory.
Don't I, uh, remember you from somewhere? Oh, that you would, sir.
'Twas me brought you your medicine last night, sir.
I've seen movies like that.
A good clunk on the head usually brings it back.
Mildred, head clunking is not a medically recognized treatment.
This is a hos- Dirty fingernails.
That was it.
It's not much of a taste, sir.
Best to down it in one.
No! Were you trying to make a point, Miss Holt, or are you naturally clumsy? We've got to get you out of here.
Come on! - Where are you taking him? - I don't know.
Somewhere safe where we can talk things out.
This is the other woman, by the way, Mildred, our indispensable secretary.
- Oh, how do you do, Mildred? - How do you do? - Mildred! - But I tell you, it always works in the movies.
Ah, you like the movies, do you, Mildred? Yes, I have a feeling I do too, I think.
Ah, and- I'm sorry- And do you, Miss, uh- - Holt.
- Ah, Holt.
It's got a nice ring to it.
Holt.
Oh, it's the pits! It gets us off the street.
And there are plenty of people downstairs.
They wouldn't dare try anything here.
Do you know that we have to share a bathroom? Hmm? What kind of a hotel is it that only has one bathroom? I know.
I know.
The Irish.
Well, I'm gonna go clean up.
Thank you.
Who are they that don't dare try anything? That's what we're gonna try to find out.
Mr.
Steele, what were you doing here in Ireland? You don't know? All I know is I got to the office on Friday, and there was a note from you saying you were taking a long weekend and that you'd be back on Monday.
Hmm.
Hmm.
Well, obviously, I must have dashed off on some important case.
You don't work that way.
- Alone without me.
- Oh, come now.
Are you trying to tell me that I, the head of the agency, never pursue a case alone? You're hiding something.
Yes, come here.
All that gibberish about not knowing about my background, after all we mean to each other? Oh, Miss Holt.
Laura, please.
Don't hold out on me any longer.
You've got to tell me the truth.
Please.
Everything you know.
- Mr.
Steele.
- Hmm? You're not Mr.
Steele.
Oh.
- Eh? - You were invented.
Do you mean to tell me I'm just a- a figment of someone's imagination? - Not just someone's, mine.
- Oh.
I had to.
You see, no one would take a female private detective seriously.
So I made up this name, Remington Steele, and then- Yes, yes, yes, yes.
I understand all of that.
But if I'm not me, then who the devil am I? Well, you've always been very evasive and mysterious about your background.
Yes, but I must have given you a clue, I mean, some kind of hint to my identity.
Well, among other things, you prospected for gold in the Yucatán you boxed your way across South America - as, uh, the Kilkenny Kid.
- Oh.
You-You stole a famous painting called The Five Nudes of Cairo.
And when I met you, you carried five passports each with a name of a character Humphrey Bogart played in a movie.
Good Lord! What an extraordinary life for someone so young.
Huh.
While all the various bits and pieces are fascinating they fall short of telling us who you really are.
Yes.
Who I really am.
Yes.
Somehow that's mixed up in all of this.
If we could just find out what you've been doing since you got here, where you've been then we might be nearer to discovering what- Just a minute, just a minute.
I see a place.
- There's a man playing a piano.
A black man.
- Yes.
- Nearby, there's another man- a rugged, careworn face.
- Yes, yes.
A woman comes in.
She's blonde.
She's very beautiful.
- She has a- She has a sad face, a sad look in her eye.
- Keep going.
Then, the rugged man, he recognizes her.
He's startled to see her, and then he says- - Yes? - He says- "All the gin joints and all the bars in all the towns, and you had to walk into mine.
" And then the black man, he starts playing - That isn't it.
- Oh, I'm sure it is.
No, not the tune, the incident.
You don't have to be a movie buff to realize what you've just recounted is a scene from Casablanca.
Oh.
- It doesn't work! - What? - My hair dryer.
- Mildred, we are in an emergency situation here.
- You're telling me.
- Not your hair, Mr.
Steele's memory.
We've got to find a way to bring it back.
Oh, well, you know me.
I'm on the side of head clunkers.
No.
I would never do that.
Never.
Not unless all else fails and- - Don't move.
- Huh? A ticket stub.
The Bijou Cinema.
- Ha! At last! A clue.
- Oh.
Wh-What about me? Stick your head out the window.
The breeze will dry it.
A fleapit.
- A what pit? - A fleapit.
That's what we called them in my youth.
A crummy, little run-down cinema.
- Let's have a look.
- Oh, yes, let's go.
- A private detective? - Remington Steele.
I got it from the hospital.
The girl is some sort of assistant.
Oh, dear, this gets more complicated by the hour.
I wish my dear, departed husband were here to counsel me.
- If you want my advice- - Not in the least, Willard.
I know you are my faithful servant, but nonetheless a servant.
Now, let me see.
First, I think you'd better find out who hired Mr.
Steele - and how much he knows.
- And then? Why, kill him, Willard.
Kill them all.
Yes.
Yes, yes, yes.
This looks familiar.
Does that look like blood? You see? I didn't imagine it.
I was here.
- Do you know who he is? - What? Right now, I don't even know who I am.
If you'd be kind enough to turn around, ever so slowly.
- The Inspector was right.
- He said you'd come back to dispose of the body.
- Oh, well, surely, you don't think- - We're private investigators.
That's right! We're on your side.
- You see, there was this clue- a ticket stuck to my shoe.
- And Casablanca.
- Well, naturally, I thought- - Save it for the inspector.
Now, listen, you're making a big mistake.
When your inspector finds out who I am- Well, perhaps he'll be kind enough to tell me.
Who was that man back there? The dead man? You could at least tell us who we're supposed to have killed! Ohh! Uh, which, uh, station house are you taking us to? - O'Connell Street.
- Ahh.
O'Connell Street's in the heart of Dublin.
- They're not police.
- What? - Something wrong? - Ahh! Uh, the cuffs bit into my wrist.
- We're almost there.
- I'd venture to say we have a short time left, Laura.
- Could you open the gate now? - Of course I can't open the gate now.
Right.
Right.
Let's go.
Ouch! Laura, one of us has to lead.
Right.
Follow me.
Go! - I just thought of something.
- What? A quotation.
Something about the right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing.
- Ouch! This is worse than being married.
- Now, look- Ohh! Now you- Ooh! Don't you think we should call a truce? For both our sakes? Excuse me.
Hmm? Good.
Now- Agreed? Before my arm leaves its socket one more time.
- Agreed.
- Right.
Whoa! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.
Over here.
All right.
Okay, one, two, three! - Okay? - Yeah.
- All right.
- Hurry.
Okay.
All right.
Ow! Ohh! Oh, my.
Now, this sets some memories stirring.
Why, yes, some happy memories.
Shh, shh.
Ah! They must have headed back to the road.
Let's go.
Ooh.
Well, we'd better wait until dark.
Audrey Hepburn, Alan Arkin.
Warner Bros.
, 1967.
- Another clue? - I don't think so.
It just popped into my head.
Oh, come now.
It's not all bad news.
I mean, pretty soon you'll want to make yourself comfortable and then do your Madeleine Carroll routine.
Yes.
Yes.
I'm looking forward to that.
What Madeleine Carroll routine? The 39 Steps? The Hitchcock movie? Oh.
Even I remember that.
I mean, Robert Donat, Madeleine Carroll.
On the run, together, handcuffed.
Ooh! Yes, yes, yes.
Then she removes her stockings.
One by one, she undoes them from the thigh and ever so slowly rolls them down her glorious legs.
I'm wearing panty hose.
Well.
Hmm.
Hmm.
Oh, well, never mind.
Uh, I expect love will find a way, eh? Uh, speaking of love, uh, do you think this might be the appropriate time to renew our very, very close acquaintance? You and I, we have never- You mean to tell me that after all these years, the time we've been together you don't want me as much as I want you? Hmm? You're awfully silent.
It's a long, complicated story, Mr.
Steele.
Ah.
I do remember that I hate long, complicated stories.
When I hold you close, I hear music.
So do I.
- Where did you get this? - I- - I've never seen it before.
- I-I-I'm not sure.
"To S.
J.
from K.
L.
" Who's S.
J.
? I don't know.
- Someone who knows K.
L.
, I suppose, whoever that is.
Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.
- Why on earth did I say that? - Rhett Butler's last line to Scarlett O'Hara.
Oh, I do hope this has something to do with Gone With The Wind.
Now that's one movie I do know about.
I've seen it a dozen times.
Gone With The Wind? Tara? Citizen Kane? Oh, I think I'm losing my marbles.
I'm going out of my mind.
I know how you feel, believe me, but- Uhh! - Oh, you thought of something? - No.
Someone just kissed my leg.
Well.
He has taste.
I'll give him that.
Hmm.
Horses.
It has something to do with horses and- and- and- and a man- a man named Flanagan! - Yes.
And he lives in the village of, um- - Go on.
I'm trying, I'm trying, I'm trying! Um, the village of, uh, uh- K- Kerry.
Kerry.
Kerry.
That's it.
Kerry, Clare! That's why I came to Ireland to go to Kerry, Clare! Oh- Mm! So, sorry.
So, they lost them, eh? Well, there's no cops bangin'on the door, so what did Steele know? Oh, I wish Mr.
Armdale were here to guide me through these treacherous waters.
The horses not running well taxes eating up every little reserve we have.
And the servants haven't been paid for ever so long.
Is money all that's on your mind, Willard? I'm talking about saving Armdale Stables.
Well, tomorrow it'll be over and we'll all have enough green to live out our days in quiet splendor.
Just the same, have Clancy and Foster keep following Steele and the girl.
As Mr.
Armdale liked to say better safe than sorry.
Whoa.
Whoa.
Whoa.
Whoa.
- That's the house there.
- Thank you.
Thank you very much.
- Mind yourselves now.
- Yeah.
- Oh.
Okay.
Cheerio.
- Bye, sir.
Good-bye.
Go on.
Hyah! Anything familiar? Yes.
Yes, there was a dead man here.
Oh, no.
Not another corpse.
- Ah, Mr.
Steele, a pleasure to see you again.
- Is your name Flanagan? - That it is.
- And you know me? Sure, wasn't it just Saturday last that you stood in this selfsame room? Surely, you can't have forgotten the dancing, the singing, the jollity? - Uh, we were having a funeral, do you see? - So there was a dead man here? Aye.
Ferarty O'Flynn.
And a finer man now never bent his elbow to a glass of ale.
Oh, we gave him the very devil of a send-off, such a wake.
Do you know, I reckon it was the best party now that he ever attended.
- This O'Flynn, did I know him? - Huh? - This O'Flynn, did I know- - You see, Mr.
Steele is suffering from amnesia.
Oh, dear, that must be an unforgettable experience.
So, if you could just tell me what I was doing here.
Well, sure.
Wasn't it- Wasn't it about the watch? Uh, you mean, uh, this one? This watch? Aye, that's it.
That's what brought you here.
That and the letter that went with it.
- The letter? - Aye.
That would be in your wallet.
Uh, which reminds me, I have that right here.
You must have dropped it during the general fun.
The money must have dropped somewhere else.
That is, of course, if you can remember carrying any.
"Your father wanted you to have this.
" Signed, Patrick O'Rourke.
Aye.
That's what brought you to Kerry, Clare.
- Did he find him? - Well, now, before we go into that aren't you a mite uncomfortable in those handcuffs? Sure, I can have those off you in a twinkling.
Some of me friends are a bit wayward, you see.
Getting into scrapes with the law.
- They always come to Flanagan.
- I see.
Uh, tell me about O'Rourke.
- He moved on.
I told you that Saturday last.
- Moved on where? Dublin.
Bought himself an old cinema.
Want to turn it into a bettin' shop or a bingo parlor or somethin'.
- Me speciality.
- The Bijou Cinema? That's it.
Oh, you were there then, were you? - Yes.
- There you go.
I was.
I got there, and it was empty.
I heard a shot.
I went into a room, something hit me on the head, and then everything went blank.
Say, that's very good.
Now try this, the movie Citizen Kane? Uh, Orson Welles, Joseph Cotten.
RKO, uh, 1941.
An old man lies dying in a decaying mansion, gasping the word "Rosebud" which sends a reporter off on a determined mission to discover the meaning of- Never mind that.
What was the name of Kane's mansion? Uh- Uh, Xanadu.
Right.
Ah, kind of Flanagan to lend us this, eh? "To S.
J.
from K.
L.
" The inscription on the watch.
One of these must be your father.
Ah, perhaps.
Perhaps.
Perhaps? You can't have forgotten your father.
Well, I don't think so.
Might be the amnesia, of course.
But, uh, I have a, uh- I have a, uh- - Feeling.
- Ah, that's right, That's right.
That's right.
I have a feeling that I never, uh, knew who my real father was actually.
In fact, I don't think I even saw my birth certificate.
Good heavens! That would explain the sudden dash to Ireland.
- A man without a father is a- - Careful, Miss Holt, careful.
I was going to say is a sad and lonely man.
Abandoned and best of all, vulnerable.
Best of all? It was here, and it was Xanadu.
I'm sure of it.
A horse with a star-shaped blaze.
Why vulnerable best of all? Oh, I don't know.
I mean, it makes you more human simpatico, easier to understand.
I mean, now that I know that your father- Walks with a loping crouch, wears a painted mustache, smokes a cigar, cracks wise.
- Your father is Groucho Marx? - The Marx Brothers, Laura, of course! The stills outside the cinema pointed the way all the time only I didn't connect them till now.
A Day At The Races.
Come on, come on.
Ticktack man.
They're, uh, signaling the odds to the other bookies.
They raise or lower the price accordingly.
Haven't they ever heard of the telephone? - Scratched? - Yeah.
Means he's been pulled out of the race.
- He isn't running.
- It might mean more than that.
Uh-huh.
Come on.
Oh, Mr.
Carter, how terrible.
How utterly terrible.
- What are you talking about, Mrs.
Armdale? - Xanadu.
Oh, nothing serious.
My trainer tells me he has a touch of colic.
That's all.
And with a horse as valuable as Xanadu, well, we don't take any chances.
Oh, you're so staunch, so brave.
If anything like that were to happen to me, I hope I'd be half the man you were.
I don't seem to be following you this morning, Mrs.
Armdale.
Oh, I know what you're going through, absolutely know what you're going through.
A man called.
Sinister.
Rough.
And the things he threatened against Xanadu- I never heard such words ever since Mr.
Armdale passed away.
Why would he call you? Oh.
No doubt they know the position Mr.
Armdale held in racing community.
What do they want? What do they want? Eight million.
Otherwise, you'll never see Xanadu alive again.
The Armdale Racing Association.
T- A-R-A.
Tara.
- Ah, good day to you, sir.
May I park your car there? - Oh, yes.
Thank you.
Oh, and get yourself a drink, huh? - Oh, pleasure, sir.
Pleasure.
- Come on, me darlin'.
Have a lovely day now.
Have a lovely day.
Yes.
- This is stealing.
- Yes, well, I said I was gonna park his car and I assure you that's what I'm gonna do later.
In you go.
Anyway, I made myself a quid.
Oh.
Lovely body.
Xanadu.
Tara.
The threads are coming together.
This never happens in Los Angeles.
Go through them! Go! I didn't think he'd bite, just like that.
Oh, he places great value on that horse, Willard.
Yes, but eight million.
And to raise it so soon.
Xanadu's owned by a consortium- more than a dozen involved.
In fact, any one of them could raise half a million at very short notice.
I counted on them for that.
And he didn't suspect you were involved? Why should they suspect me, Clancy? I'm just a doddering old woman.
To the Armdale Racing Association and its late, great founder.
- Good luck.
- Good luck, ma'am.
Ah, civilization.
Someone there may have seen the horse trailer.
Oh, look at this.
Easy, boy.
Easy.
That's it.
Oh.
Well, well, well, well.
"In Xanadu, did Kubla Khan, a stately pleasure-dome decree.
" Hmm? It's he all ri- Mr.
Steele, come here.
Stay.
Leave this to me.
- Am I a karate expert? - I've never seen you use it.
Oh.
Uh, well, then, it's the good old blunt instrument routine then, isn't it? There will be others.
We have to get him away.
Well, we can't put him in the Rolls.
He'll play havoc with the upholstery.
Ah, yes, it's a lovely day! Yes.
! Yeah! Yeah! Come on, there! Come on now! Hyah! Come on now! Come on! Stop it, you fool! That's eight million on the hoof! This one can run.
I wish I had a quid or two riding on him.
- You'd lose! - Eh? They're gaining on us! Get in the back and throw the oil drums into their path.
- Right! - Come on, boy! Come on! Come on! Oil drums? There aren't any oil drums! There were in From Russia With Love.
Come on, boy! Come on! Whoa, boy! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Come on, now.
Come on.
Shoo! Go! Shoo! Miss Holt it all comes back to me now.
So, Mildred was right after all.
A good clunk on the head.
- It's a terrible disappointment.
- What is? To remember that, uh, you and I are still just, uh good friends.
If my husband were alive, he'd give you a good thrashing! Mr.
Steele? I found Patrick O'Rourke for you.
Your father's old friend.
Well, that must be the house over there.
It sounds like they're having a party.
Perhaps they know you're coming.
The return of the prodigal.
- Come on.
- No.
This is your moment.
Well.
- Patrick O'Rourke? - Ah, dear old Paddy.
He'll be sorely missed.
Were you a friend of the family? I wish I knew.
- Well? - Mm-mmm.
Dead end.
I'm sorry.
Mm-hmm.
Home, Miss Holt? - Home, Mr.
Steele.
- Indeed.