Magnum, P.I. (1980) s03e23 Episode Script

Do you enjoy ransacking the church? I don't call searching for IRA weapons ransacking.
What's wrong? You look like you've seen a wraith.
You just kind of look like someone I know.
May the saints preserve him.
He's my half-brother.
What are you up to, Father? You stole the ashes of the Crozier of St Patrick from me poor church and I want 'em back.
To think I hold the very crown Henry Vlll placed on Anne Boleyn's head.
And while she still had it, I hope.
I'm not an investigator who takes pictures through keyholes.
I told your manager when he hired me.
I don't even peek through them.
Get closer.
Hey, man, this is a helicopter.
It makes noise.
Your wife is having an affair.
Isn't this exciting? Just like an Agatha Christie novel.
The Crozier of St Patrick is typical of the small Catholic churches found throughout Northern Ireland.
That particular edifice was founded by a young Irish monk in the mid 1500s.
The priest supposedly collected the ashes of St Patrick's Crozier, or shepherd's crook, when it was burned in Dublin.
There's no supposing about it.
This particular incident occurred when a few overzealous Anglo-lrish exceeded the intent of Henry Vlll's edict to unify and anglicize the Irish Church.
What the lass is trying to say is that like most Englishmen fat Henry thought he was above God.
Not God, the Pope.
You wouldn't be Anglican now, would you? In any case, I won't argue the point in front of these good tourists, who I'm sure are dying to drop an American dollar or two in the poor box for the privilege of glimpsing the ashes of the Crozier of St Patrick.
All fees for the sights we visit are included in the tour.
Aye, she's Anglican.
This is just one of four churches claiming to have the ashes of St Patrick's Crozier.
It was a big staff.
Had to be to get rid of all those snakes.
You'll find this part of the British Isles full of legends and tales, most of which, I'm afraid, are pure blarney.
I'll wager she doesn't believe in leprechauns either.
That's bloody disgusting, Paddy.
Not if you're poor, it's not.
Why don't you have a new one? No thanks, Brigadier.
- You're smoking butt ends? - Dropped by a Yank.
Not a Brit.
Did you enjoy ransacking me church? I don't call searching for IRA weapons ransacking, Father.
And did you find any? Not this time.
But when I do, neither the cloth nor the collar will protect you.
Being a priest hasn't protected an Irishman since fat Henry.
Yes, that's as maybe.
Good day to you, Father McGuinness.
Brigadier.
Aah.
Father McGuinness! What are you up to? I was just taking a drop of medicine for me cold.
I'm not talking about your bloody Irish whiskey.
I'm talking about the ashes of St Patrick's Crozier.
They're gone.
I don't know what you're trying to pull.
If this is some sort of Irish trick to get more money from us, it won't work.
As far as I'm concerned, this abrogates our contract with your church.
The tourist business isn't exactly booming in Northern Ireland, you know.
Even though Hawaii is visited by four million tourists a year, the islanders have a way of making each one feel as if he or she is the first to discover their island paradise.
That's what they call the aloha spirit.
Tri Island Airways flight 10 now arriving at gate 17.
Tri Island Airways flight 10 now arriving at gate 17.
First thing a good private investigator learns when tailing a suspect is to blend with the crowd, especially if that suspect is a suspicious woman.
It isn't as easy as it looks.
One has to be constantly on guard for the unexpected.
Second thing a good private investigator learns is to act perfectly natural if spotted.
I had to give Legs - that's what I code-named my client's wife - the impression that I just happened to be heading for the same bar she was.
This works on everyone, except paranoids like Legs.
Which means, to walk into that bar, I had to get very creative.
Aloha.
May I join you? Well, that depends, now.
Are you buying? Bartender, another drink for my friend here and I'll have a Virgin Mary.
Well, now, are you a religious man? Not exactly.
Oh, Virgin Mary! That's a drink without liquor in it.
Blasphemy.
Can't afford the filthy habit.
Not on a priest's pittance.
Oh! I'm sorry, Father.
It's so dark in here that I didn't notice.
My name's Magnum.
Thomas Magnum.
Father Paddy McGuinness, County Armagh.
- Ireland? - Northern Ireland.
- Did I say that right? - You said it just fine.
Bingo.
It's him.
It's the same Suntan that she met in the movies.
Oh, no.
- That's sad.
Your wife, is it? - Oh, I'm not married.
You're not living in sin, are you? I don't believe in it, Father.
Why are you hiding behind me and spying on that lass? Normally I couldn't say but you being a priest and all, I guess it's OK.
I'm a private investigator and her husband hired me to follow her.
A big, strapping lad like you spending your time spying on unfaithful wives? - That's not all I do.
- It is a sad thing.
Father, you don't understand.
Probably the only good to come of it is this glass of Irish whiskey you so generously purchased for me.
Bartender.
On the other hand I suppose a man is entitled to earn a living as best he can and committing adultery is breaking the eighth commandment.
Eighth commandment? I thought that was "Thou shalt not steal".
Is it, now? I always get those two confused.
What if they're getting on a plane? Well, she didn't have any luggage.
He did, so I figure he just flew in.
What's wrong? You look like you've seen a wraith.
Oh, uh it's nothing.
You just kind of look like someone I know.
May the saints preserve him.
- Here they come.
Sure you don't mind? - It'll add a little excitement to me dull life.
I want a good one for your Aunt Katie.
She's always complaining there'll be nothing for me tombstone.
Inter-island Airways Flight 844 is now arriving at Gate 18.
Terrific, Uncle Paddy.
Come on.
We got to hurry or you'll miss your plane.
Nothing for your tombstone? I couldn't think of anything else to say.
Although this chart only goes back to William and Mary, we can trace our roots to Henry Vlll.
My Great Aunt Matilda, who was lady-in-waiting to Queen Victoria claimed we went back to Richard I, or Richard the Lionheart as you lads probably know him.
Unfortunately, she never actually authenticated the line with papers.
I suppose if one goes back far enough, anyone can lay claim to some peerage.
Higgins! Well, almost anyone.
You are not gonna believe this.
I met this priest in a bar while I was tailing Legs.
- I already find it preposterous.
- Guess what? - I'd really rather not.
- What is that? I should think it's rather obvious.
Are you tracing the lads' pedigree? It's the genealogical history of the Higgins family.
- Oh, No offence, lads.
- Magnum, what do you want? - Like I said - You were tailing someone called Legs and you met this priest.
Not just a priest, Higgins, an Irish priest.
And guess what? I said I'd really rather not.
He looked like you.
How delightful.
An Irish priest is in the islands who Iooks like me.
Ha! I knew it would get to you.
How many people in the worid look like you? - Of course he wasn't exactly like you.
- He wasn't? He had curly hair and a beard.
Higgins! Don't take it so hard.
I mean, we all have people who look like us.
I've heard that in the worid there's an exact double for each of us.
What is this priest's name? Father Paddy Paddy McGuinness.
That's it! How did you know? He's my half-brother.
Higgins, if Father Paddy is your half-brother, why isn't his name on here? Because he's illegitimate.
- You mean like your brother Elmo? - No, not like Elmo.
I mean, yes, like Elmo but the circumstances were different, I assure you.
As I recall, it was during Worid War I.
Your father was pulled from the trenches desperately ill with influenza.
He was taken to a field hospital where Elmo's mother, a Red Cross nurse from Texas Magnum, some things are better left unsaid.
Of course.
It was just after the Great War.
Father, a major in the Prince of Wales' Own Light Horse, was dispatched to Ireland to quell the rebellion.
Not the kind of officer to keep to table and hearth, even in a bitter Irish winter, Father was leading a patrol delivering milk to an orphanage.
He was ambushed by the IRA.
Desperately wounded, he managed to hold the rebels off until his men could safely escape, then he crawled into a bog and hid in a snowbank.
Early the next morning, a young widow woman, foraging for fuel, found him and took him to her cottage.
Those were hard times in Ireland and peat was scarce, especially to a woman with no husband.
Father was near frozen to death.
So she did the only thing she could to get him warm.
Of course.
Being delirious, naturally Father had no idea what she was doing.
He told my mother the only thing that kept him going through that terrible ordeal was the thought of her.
- Of your mother? - Yes! After he'd thawed out sufficiently, he found his way back to his regiment and nine months later Father Paddy was born! Well, he wasn't Father Paddy then.
No, of course not, Higgins.
Look.
I don't want to cast aspersions on your father but considering how Elmo and Father Paddy were, uh, sired, I mean, did it ever occur to you that your father may be No.
I didn't think so.
- What's he doing here? - He didn't say, Higgins.
I assumed he was on vacation.
I dropped him off at the Low Surf hotel.
- How fitting.
- Come on.
Everyone can't afford a beach front on Waikiki.
- Of course, now he'll be staying here.
- Here? Here? Magnum, have you gone mad? The opening of the Queen Mother's wing of the Hawaiian British Museum is this week.
As president of the Anglo Society, I'm in charge of the festivities.
There will be a formal ball, famous personages will be staying on the estate.
I'm even making a phone call to the Queen Mother to thank her for her contributions.
And you expect me to play host to a slovenly, alcoholic, illegitimate Irish priest? - Higgins, you're a bigot.
- Of course I am.
Isn't everybody? - He's your brother.
- My illegitimate half-brother.
You can call him anything you want, Higgins.
He is still your father's son.
I left Higgins to wrestle with his conscience and wrestled with a problem of my own - how to tell my client that his wife was probably having an affair.
So, Clarence, I think that maybe your wife is having Is not being quite as faithful as you'd like her to be.
Of course I could be wrong.
I don't really have any proof yet.
I mean, like photos.
Well, I got photos but nothing of the two of them, you know, uh Look, I'm not the kind of investigator who takes pictures through keyholes.
I told your manager that when he hired me.
I don't even peek through them.
So I can't really know for sure whether Legs your wife is really having an affair.
Why don't I just mail you the rest of my report? On second thought, maybe I ought to read it to you right now.
"Last night she left your apartment at seven and went to the movies.
" I'll bet you she told you she went to the movies, am I right? Well, that's what she did.
She even got one of those jumbo popcorns.
You know, the big barrels with all the creamy butter on top of it.
That's what she did.
Then she got two soft drinks.
Maybe she was thirsty.
Hey, popcorn'll do that to you.
Especially if you use too much salt and she salted the hell out of it.
You really ought to talk to her about that.
It's not healthy.
Oh.
Yeah, OK.
Yeah.
Clarence, I don't think I can remember all those details without my notes.
But I'll try.
Here we go.
See, I followed her into the theater and she sat down next to this guy.
But she didn't act like she knew him.
See, Clarence, I've got this theory.
You go to bed early.
You wake up early and I understand that fighters in training practice celibacy.
Well, maybe Clarence, just maybe, your wife is releasing some pent-up libido by going to a film.
Like Leather Lovers.
Clarence, where is your manager? I'm not the guy for this.
Do you know my time is costing you 300 which I'm holding to a minimum.
All I've spent so far is a little gas money, a movie ticket, some film and a couple of Irish whiskeys for a priest.
No, wait.
I can explain that.
Um This priest, he helped me get a picture of your wife and the guy, so that they wouldn't get suspicious.
- Name? - Father Paddy.
Oh, the guy.
You want the name of the guy.
I don't know.
Find out.
Clarence, I don't even know if this guy is I'll get right on it.
Room's 100 a week, 20 a day, That's cash in advance and no swimsuits or bare feet allowed in the lobby.
My good man, I wouldn't be caught dead in one of your rooms.
No suicides either.
I'm looking for Father Patrick McGuinness.
Try the beach bar.
Beach bar? On the roof.
It don't work.
Why would anyone call this the beach bar? Faith and begorrah.
Johnny.
It is you, me brother.
Half-brother.
It's been 15 years.
- 17, to be precise.
- Let me look at you.
You're fat as a fiddle.
That's fit as a fiddle.
Barkeep, give me brother whatever he wants.
Glencadam on the rocks.
That's Scotch.
You do have Scotch, don't you? Yeah, sure we do.
Uh Bonnie Hawaii, made right here in the islands, 3.
50 a bottle.
Pour him a spot of mine.
They didn't have any Irish, so I went out and bought me some.
How did you know I was here? A rather bizarre coincidence.
You met one of the guests at Robin Masters' estate, Thomas Magnum.
- The lad at the airport.
- Yes.
Well, he said he dropped you off here.
Patrick, what are you doing in Hawaii? Hotel policy, I've got to put 'em in all the drinks.
To Father.
To Father.
Now, what are you doing here? Well, Johnny, it's a long tale and I don't want to bore you.
You always did have a tendency to run on a bit.
Me, run on? You could put a leprechaun to sleep on St Patrick's Day.
Leprechauns and St Patrick's Day, what sort of a metaphor is that? An Irish one.
That's always been your problem, Patrick.
You can't shake those Gaelic roots.
To the Queen.
What's so humorous? Toasting the Queen with good Irish whiskey.
I had hoped the years might have changed you.
I came here intending to remove you from these squalid surroundings to offer you the hospitality of Mr.
Masters' estate.
I should have known better.
That you should have, Brit.
I really must be going.
With the new wing of the museum opening on Sunday and my old brigadier arriving tomorrow, I have a million things to do.
Perhaps in another 17 years, Patrick.
Goodbye.
May the saints preserve me, what am I doing? Here my own flesh and blood seeks me out with nothing but brotherly love in his heart to offer me the hospitality of his home and hearth and I treat him like a Dublin dustman.
I would not blame you if you withdrew your gracious offer and never spoke to me again, brother darling.
Well, I I'll pack me things and be with you in three shakes of a leprechaun's leg.
He's only my half-brother.
What are they doing? That's pretty obvious, isn't it? Standing on their heads? Don't knock it until you've tried it.
Come on, get closer.
Hey, man, this is a helicopter, it makes noise.
They are so preoccupied, they'll never hear us.
Uh-huh.
Come on.
Closer.
Closer.
This is great.
To think that some countries still hunt them.
Yeah.
I told you they'd hear us.
What do you think they were doing? I don't know.
Some kind of a mating dance? Where's Legs' boat? Don't worry.
They're probably still in their cabin, doing their mating dance.
What did you expect? The husband hired you because he was suspicious.
That doesn't mean he's right.
I was hoping he was wrong.
You know, that Suntan would maybe turn out to be her long-lost baby brother.
Baby brother? Man, you are really reaching.
- He's a mean one, huh? - Who? - Legs' husband.
- I wouldn't say he's mean exactly.
I can't blame you.
It's usually the bearer of bad tidings that gets buried.
- They came up for air.
- The whales? No, Legs and Suntan.
- That's great.
- What? - They're fighting.
- What's so great about that? Don't you see? It hasn't worked out.
She thought she could have an affair with Suntan but now she realizes she's still in love with Clarence.
- Clarence? - Yeah, her husband.
She realized a few stolen moments of passion aren't worth a lifetime of regret.
She was probably faithful to Clarence all along.
- Do you really believe that? - That's what I'll tell Clarence.
He is a mean one, huh? - It's magnificent.
- I'm relieved it's finally in your hands.
I must confess I felt a bit uncomfortable, carting it about like a delivery boy.
To think I hold the very crown Henry Vlll placed on Anne Boleyn's head.
And while she still had it, I hope.
What? Oh, yes.
Quite good.
I'm a descendant of Henry's, you know.
- Really? - Yes.
My father's great grandfather's aunt was the Duchess of Clyde whose uncle on her mother's side was Earl of Westchester, second cousin to Lord Throckmorton, the nephew of Edward VI, who was the only issue of Henry Vlll's third marriage to Jane Seymour.
Oh, yes.
Yes.
I see.
Oh, thank you.
The Society will be forever indebted to the Queen Mother for loaning the tiara to us to open the wing of the museum and to you, Brigadier, for so very kindly delivering it to us.
Nonsense, Sergeant Major, I was coming out to the islands on holiday anyway.
To the Queen Mother.
To the Queen Mother.
How did you get Irish in your Scotch decanter? Patrick, why the bloody hell did you Is something wrong, brother darling? Did you put Irish whiskey in my crystal Scotch decanter? Aye.
I did not see any for Irish and I thought Scotch would be closer than gin.
You thought Scotch Did it cause a problem? My old brigadier arrived and we toasted the Queen Mother - with your bloody Irish whiskey! - Think nothing of it.
With all you've done for me, sharing me whiskey with you is the least I can do.
Now, if you'll excuse me, brother darling, I've me evening vespers to complete.
Forgive me.
Sometimes I just cannot help myself.
That's Clarence? Boy, no wonder you're terrified.
I'm not terrified.
You should be.
Hi, Clarence.
Is your manager here? Guess not.
I just stopped by to give you the good news.
- Does it talk? - In one syllable sentences.
- Clarence, this is T.
C.
- You ain't got to introduce me.
- He's my partner - Partner? And we decided that we can just about assure you that your wife isn't doing anything you wouldn't want her to do.
- What is with this "we" stuff? - You get 50º% of the net.
For what, 50º% of the bruises? Clarence, look, maybe I'd better talk to your manager.
After all, he's the one who hired me.
Us.
- I think you'd better tell Clarence.
- Of course.
Well, T.
C.
And I were following your wife in a boat.
She was in a boat and we were in a helicopter.
Well Hey, we saw some whales.
Two of 'em.
They had their heads in the water and they were flapping their tails I don't think he wants to hear about whales.
- Will you let me tell this? - Name.
What did he say? - He wants Suntan's name.
- Well, give it to him! I can't give it to him, I don't know it.
And you don't have to know it either because your wife is not having an affair with Suntan.
As a matter of fact, she hates the guy.
Yeah, that's right.
In fact, when they came out of the cabin she was just Thomas.
See, Clarence, I got this theory.
I think Suntan is a reporter for one of those trashy scandal sheets and he's trying to create a story That's it! That's enough! I've had it! You may be able to kill us but I'm not gonna let you intimidate me any longer.
I apologize for that but I have an image to uphold.
Mr.
Magnum, T.
C.
, Angie - or Legs, as you have so aptly nicknamed her - is not only promiscuous, she's the one who wants the divorce.
She's maintaining this facade of faithfulness until I win the championship, then she's gonna file for a divorce and if you don't procure proof of Angie's infidelities, then I'll have to give her half of my share in the purse.
That could be a couple of million dollars, so please, gentlemen, ferret out Suntan's real name and find me some acceptable evidence.
I can't imagine what's delaying my half-brother.
I'm in such a flutter, Jonathan.
Think of it, the opening of the Queen Mother's wing at the museum and meeting your own flesh and blood, all in the same week.
It's almost more than one can bear.
Yes, quite.
You said your brother was part Irish.
What part of Ireland does he come from? Northern, Brigadier Ffolkes.
Northern.
- Father McGuinness? - You two know each other? Aye, brother darling, the Brigadier and I are old acquaintances.
Isn't this a wonderful coincidence? The Lord works in mysterious ways, lass.
Not this mysterious, I fancy.
What are you up to, Father? It's quite simple, Brigadier.
You stole the ashes of the Crozier of St Patrick from me poor church and I want 'em back.
Patrick, apologize to the Brigadier at once.
No, that's not necessary, Sergeant Major, because I haven't the faintest idea what the good Father's talking about.
Well, you'd better, Brigadier, or you'll never see the tiara fat Henry crowned his tart with again.
After leaving Clarence, it took T.
C.
And me an hour to realize we were walking around with our mouths still hanging open.
So we drove to the club where Rick closed them with a couple of steaks and a bottle of Bordeaux on the house.
Of course, there was a price to pay.
Rick was still laughing when we left.
You used me, your own half-brother! - I'm sorry about that, brother darling.
- Stop calling me that.
I suppose I shouldn't blame you for being upset.
Upset! Upset! Jonathan, your blood pressure.
Of course you wouldn't have been involved if I hadn't met that big strapping friend of yours at the airport.
Magnum.
Why didn't you report this theft to the police in Armagh? - How do you know I didn't? - Because I'd have been informed.
To tell you the truth, Brigadier, the Bishop told me to but I got to thinking, going to the police would be like the mouse going to the cat to tell him the dog stole the cheese.
So you decided to steal the tiara instead? Tit for tat.
And we're to believe that this is all a coincidence? That the ashes of the Crozier disappeared, or were stolen from your church just a few days before I was to escort the tiara to Hawaii.
The creator moves in mysterious ways.
- So does the IRA, Father.
- And what do you mean by that? It's obvious that the IRA has orchestrated this whole incident to besmirch the reputation of the British soldier in Northern Ireland.
You don't need the IRA to do that.
Do you really expect anybody to believe that we would steal a church relic? Who, pray tell, burned the Crozier of St Patrick in the first place? That was 500 years ago.
When are you bloody Irish going to forget? When Cromwell gets out of hell! I'm beginning to see why Northern Ireland's in such a mess.
Magnum, this is all your fault.
Good, then you won't mind if I butt in.
- Good evening, everybody.
- You've no idea what's involved here.
Well, I think I may have heard enough to give me a clue.
Father Paddy thinks that the British here have stolen a relic from his church and the British think that Father Paddy is part of an IRA plot to discredit them.
Is that close enough? Well, I figure you're both wrong.
Thank you, Agatha.
I have known the Brigadier here for several years.
Not well but well enough to know that he would shoot you in the line of duty but he wouldn't steal your shoes.
Rather crudely put, but thank you.
And although I don't know Father Paddy any better, I do know his brother.
Half-brother.
Half-brother.
Thank you.
I assume the same blood runs in their veins, therefore they share the same traits.
Higgins would rather be drawn and quartered than tell a lie.
- Besides, despite Father Paddy's vices - Vices? he is a man of the cloth and I don't think they take to lying too easily.
So what's your point, Magnum? My point is that if you two could bury your chauvinistic hatchets for a minute, the two of you together might be able to figure out who else could have benefited by stealing the relic.
Good night and thanks for the cigar.
Isn't this exciting? Just like an Agatha Christie novel.
Now, all we have to do is to figure out who did it.
We'll be leaving here at seven o'clock sharp for a delightful breakfast at the Hog & Hound followed by a tour of the countryside where you'll see the ruins of the abbey of Loughgall, the old wall at Concannon and I'm afraid we'll have to cross the Crozier of St Patrick's off our itinerary as the ashes are no longer there.
The church was a little out of our way but I selected a lovely little church here in Armagh.
So have a lovely evening and do be on time in the morning.
May we have a word with you, Miss? Yes, there's plenty of room on the tour bus.
- A full day's tour is five pounds - We're not interested in the tour, Miss.
We'd like to discuss the ashes of St Patrick's Crozier.
Confronted by the constabulary, the tour guide broke down and led them to where she'd hidden the relic.
Hearing of its safe return, Father Paddy gave the tiara to Higgins and, in a conciliatory gesture, insisted on flying home with the Brigadier.
All I could think was God help the passengers.
And what about the plantation of Ireland? Father McGuinness, do you realize when that happened? Aye, with the coming of the crossbow in 1169.
How can you hold us responsible for something that happened 800 years ago? That's the trouble with you Brits, you have too short a memory.
Sergeant Major, I shall see you on my next visit, I hope.
So do I, sir.
I always seem to end up in your debt.
Better than the other way around.
Goodbye, sir.
Don't you go taking too many of those divorce cases.
It'll sour you on marrying.
I'll try and remember that, Father.
Yes, it is.
- If you're ever in Northern Ireland - I'll call first.
It's been grand seeing you.
You too brother.
God bless you, brother darling.
You know, we ought to have a family reunion, get all of Dad's kids together.
You, me, Elmo, Soo-Ling.
Soo-Ling? I don't suppose you'd have the decency to drop it.
That's what I thought.
In 1928, my father was military attaché to the embassy in Peking.
He was asked to escort a contingent of Episcopal nuns to Hentiy, where they were to establish a mission.
Along the way, they were ambushed by Mongolian bandits led by a beautiful, raven-haired woman.
She had never seen an Englishman before and found my father fascinating, so fascinating that she was willing to let the nuns go on in exchange for certain favors, so to speak.
She took my father to a cliff overlooking the sea and What is she doing to him now? Snap off a couple.
How do we prove Clarence's wife is unfaithful with us taking pictures of her fighting? I don't know.
Just snap a couple.
I don't know how Thomas does this.
Can you imagine spending all your time doing this? - Maybe it gets interesting.
- When? What are they doing now? What they've been doing for the last 30 minutes - arguing.
Some pair of lovebirds.
I had a relationship like that once, fought all the time.
Man, it was terrible until we made up.
Yeah, well, these two ain't never gonna make up.
They'd better or else Clarence won't stand a chance in divorce court.
This is boring.
Maybe something interesting'll happen.
- Like what? - I don't know.
Whenever Thomas has a case, you can never tell what'll happen.