Remington Steele (1982) s01e20 Episode Script

Steele's Gold

Stop that Zorro! All I ask is the chance to stand before you, stripped bare.
- Doubloons, Mr.
Steele.
- Oh.
Gold doubloons.
Gold fever is a frightful disease, Laura.
It can turn an honest, decent man into a treacherous, devious animal.
You wanna leave me behind and keep all the gold for yourself! Did gold ever turn you into a treacherous, devious animal? [Laura] Try this for a deep, dark secret The great detective Remington Steele? He doesn't exist.
I invented him.
Follow I always loved excitement.
So I studied and apprenticed and put my name on an office.
But absolutely nobody knocked down my door.
A female private investigator seemed so feminine.
So I invented a superior.
A decidedly masculine superior.
Suddenly, there were cases around the block.
It was working like a charm.
Until the day he walked in with his blue eyes and mysterious past.
And before I knew it he assumed Remington Steele's identity.
Now I do the work, and he takes the bows.
It's a dangerous way to live but as long as people buy it I can get thejob done.
We never mix business with pleasure.
Well, almost never.
I don't even know his real name.
[Coughs] Oh, how I love a costume party, eh? The choice of one's costume is often determined by the true style of the inner man.
- Wouldn't you agree, Murphy? - I'm gonna get you for this.
Now, Murphy, if something is worth doing, it's worth doing right.
Psst.
Mmm? Excellent.
Come along, Laura.
Duty awaits.
[Laura] I'm not coming out like this.
Now, Laura, how do you propose to guard Miss Kilbride's collection of Old California artifacts hidden behind that wall? I told you not to put him in charge of getting the costumes, Laura.
It's all they had left in our size.
Besides, you look rather fetching in a cottontail.
Oh, no.
It's a theme party Old California.
Miss Kilbride merely said to come in costume.
We're supposed to mingle with the guests? Look inconspicuous? Well, let's try not to draw attention to ourselves, eh? - Mr.
Steele.
- Ah, Miss Kilbride.
How clever of you to know that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle the creator of Sherlock Holmes, once visited California.
- [Chuckling] - I don't quite understand uh, the rabbit and the clown however.
Uh, what most people don't know, Miss Kilbride is that Sir Francis Drake's childhood fantasy was to be a clown.
And, of course, Kit Carson often survived in the wilderness on nothing but rabbit.
Then, Mr.
Michaels is here as Sir Francis Drake's fantasy and Miss Holt as Kit Carson's lunch? [Clears Throat] Precisely.
- [Woman Screams] - [Men Grunting] Stop that Zorro! Eight ty Ioons.
Eighty loons? Eighty loons, indeed.
I'm most distressed, Miss Holt.
Most distressed.
Believe me, Miss Kilbride, we at the Remington Steele Agency are also distressed by what happened last night.
I don't blame you, mind.
It must have been very difficult trying to run in those bunny shoes.
Yes.
Well, won't you sit down? [Clears Throat] We've run an inventory on your collection and nothing seems to be missing.
- Except the journal.
- What journal? Oh, while you were so ably protecting my collection of California artifacts some scoundrel broke into my library and stole the journal of a prospector named Arnold Dobbs.
- Was it valuable? - Not at all.
Some geology students found it in the San Jacinto Mountains and sent it to me.
Just the scratchings of a nomad.
Or something to kill for.
- Mr.
Michaels and I will get right on it.
- And Mr.
Steele.
I gather he's quite the cat's pajamas at this sort of affair.
Ah, yes, of course.
That's our Mr.
Steele, the cat's pajamas.
Loons.
Eighty loons.
Code perhaps? Something like The 39 Steps? Then again, it could be 80 lunatics.
[Phone Ringing] Steele here.
If you want to know more about those 80 loons you'll meet me at the Macao Bar now.
The dead man's name was Dan Curtin a drifter, in and out of jail.
Nothing very interesting about him except his eyes.
- His eyes? - Yeah, one green, one brown.
Laura, this is it.
According to the license plate numbers on security's log sheet this car was at Miss Kilbride's party last night.
Ah, you got your eye on the LTD, huh? Well, if you picked that car out of this bunch I can see that I'm dealing with a couple of crafty gringos.
It's the peach of the crop.
My name's Felix.
- Murietta? - Junior.
- Murietta? - Junior.
Yes, this little chiquita, she's got everything power steering, power brakes, whitewalls.
- What else do you need to know about it? - What was she doing at Sylvia Kilbride's party last night? You the bunny rabbit? I thought I recognized you.
And you, you the jerk in the Sherlock Holmes outfit? No, I was the, uh Never mind.
Mr.
Murietta, you were an uninvited guest at a party where a man was murdered.
- I had nothing to do with that.
- Then you won't mind telling us why you were there.
I'm interested in Old California.
My family's been here a long time and I just wanted to look at the exhibit.
It'll be open to the public this weekend.
You couldn't wait? We Latinos are a, uh, hot-blooded, impulsive race.
That's not a very convincing answer.
- What costume were you wearing last night? - Why don't you get off my lot? Uh, unless of course, uh, you're really interested in the LTD.
I think you're a hustler.
A cheat! And besides, I think you talk funny.
- [Groaning] - Oh, sorry, old chap.
All that talk ruined my concentration.
Eighty loons? Men's room.
Of course.
Eighty loons? What you're looking for belongs to me.
- Oh, oh, you own the loons.
- Stay out of it or you and your bunny rabbit friend could get hurt.
You were at a party, perhaps dressed as Zorro? [Growls] - Mr.
Steele? - [Whimpers] [Irish Accent] Mr.
Steele? Emmett DeVore, sea captain, poet, barrister, retired.
It was me who called you.
I cleverly hid meself under a table until he left.
Lou Cody, he's a miserable lowlife bum who claims to own what's rightfully mine.
- The loons? - Not loons, Mr.
Steele.
- Doubloons, Mr.
Steele.
- Oh.
Gold doubloons.
Tut, tut, tut.
- Well, so far so good.
- What do you mean? At least the intrepid Mr.
Steele hasn't stuck his big nose into this case yet.
Miss Holt.
Mr.
Michaels.
Please come in.
Mr.
Steele is already here.
Ah, is it the bunny rabbit and the clown? [Laughs] Ah, Laura, Murphy, uh, ahem, may I present Captain Emmett DeVore.
Soldier, philanthropist, archaeologist, C.
P.
A.
, retired.
Do sit down.
Captain DeVore has shed some light on last night's tragedy.
Were you an invited guest, Captain DeVore? Uh, well, uh, not exactly.
Captain DeVore read in the papers that I have in my possession Arnold Dobbs's journal.
- So, he came to protect his interest.
- Interest in what? - Doubloons.
- Eighteenth-century Toledo mint to be exact.
That one coin is worth well over a thousand dollars.
I'm telling you Dobbs thought it would take at least four burros to bring the rest in.
Emmett staked Mr.
Dobbs to his last unfortunate expedition.
In exchange, he was given this document.
As you can see, Miss Holt, it guarantees me one half of the treasure of the San Jacintos.
[Kilbride] The treasure probably consists of doubloons robbed from a Spanish caravan by the Muriettas in 1787.
- The Muriettas? - [Emmett] A family ofbandidos.
They have terrorized this state for generations with their thievin' and murderin'.
I mean, heaven knows what they're up to now.
They own a used car lot in the Valley.
They've stooped that low, have they? Felix Murietta Jr.
Was at the party last night.
He was? No doubt he was after my gold.
Do you know what I'm thinkin'? It wouldn't surprise me if it was him who killed Dan Curtin.
Tell me what you know about Dan Curtin.
Dan Curtin.
Dan Curtin.
Well Well, he was a liar and a thief.
And I always had a great dislikin' for him.
Enough to kill him? Mr.
Michaels, if I was a murderer would I make a great detective like Remington Steele a partner in me claim? A-A partner in your claim? In exchange for his services.
Isn't that right? - Of course.
- Yes, of course.
Mr.
Steele, might I confer with you for a moment? Certainly.
Certainly.
If you will excuse us both? [Bell Ringing] Somebody's tripped the alarm for the collection.
Will somebody get this clown off of me? So, I overdid the research.
Do you have to dislocate my arm? Since when is breaking and entering necessary for research? I'm a freelance writer, working on the Zorro murder.
Sylvia Kilbride wouldn't talk to me on the phone.
Oh, hell.
I wanted a headline so badly.
I'm really ashamed of myself.
Not bad.
Schoolgirl guilt, stammering and "blushy.
" I'm telling the truth.
My name is Lois Grubaums, and my father taught me never to lie.
He was a minister.
Well then, maybe your father, the minister, will be glad to post bail for you.
All right, I admit it.
I'm not who I pretend to be.
[Steele Clears Throat] - God, you're good, Mr.
Steele.
- Hmm? You saw right through me, didn't you? [Chuckles] A man in my business quickly learns to spot a liar, hmm.
My real name is Kitty Dobbs.
Dobbs.
Arnold Dobbs was my father.
I was his illegitimate daughter.
His child from a month of passion with my mother in the goldfields of Alaska in 1953.
In the goldfields of Alaska in 1953.
He loved me.
He sent money when he could.
When he struck it rich, he promised to make me a queen.
But now I live in a one-bedroom in Canoga Park.
Oh, I appeal to you, Mr.
Steele.
The doubloons are rightfully mine.
Look into my eyes.
Among the Eskimos from the great north where I was spawned green is the color of honesty.
All I ask is the chance to stand before you stripped bare naked.
With the truth.
I'll certainly make that a top priority, Miss Dobbs.
So, how's her story? Spawn of the north.
I smell fish in the air.
I came up with another one of those uninvited license plates at Miss Kilbride's party.
Ever hear of Chance McCormick? - Another grizzled prospector? - Close, but no cigar.
McCormick's a professional gold hunter, but he uses Computers.
Whatever happened to the legends of strongmen working only with picks and shovels, eh? I mean, for me, McCormick's gold-hunting computers lack the the human obsession.
The obsession of men like your Captain DeVore? Laura, I've already told you my partnership with Emmett DeVore is merely a way for us to keep tabs on him.
My gold-hunting days are way in the past.
Your mysterious past includes prospecting? Oh, a hobby.
Nothing more.
[Computerized Voice] Names, please.
Computer-controlled door? [Clears Throat] Uh, Remington Steele.
Uh, Laura Holt.
[Computer] You do not have to shout.
I am not deaf.
Proceed.
All these machines, it's like a - Metropolis? - What? [Computer] Metropolis.
Directed by Fritz Lang.
UFA Studios.
Berlin.
1926.
The great mass of inferior humans become slave workers dominated by superior machines.
- Bet you can't name the actors.
- Alfred Abel.
Gustav Frohlich.
Rudolf Klein-Rogge.
Hmm.
Not bad for a computer.
[Steele] Uh, Mr.
McCormick? Um, Chance McCormick? - Let me try.
- Oh, go ahead.
Gold.
Joke? Inappropriate.
You're Steele.
This is Holt.
My Alpha 7500 told me you were on your way.
Alpha 7500? Sounds like a radioactive dog food.
The Alpha 7500 is just the best little data exchange system west of I.
B.
M.
He monitored your conversation coming here.
So, you think I killed Dan Curtin with my little Zorro sword, eh? - Foolish.
- You were at Miss Kilbride's party.
Did you know Dan Curtin? I know everyone who's anyone in the gold business.
Dan Curtin was a scavenger.
A dirty fingernailed gold digger.
An odd vilification, considering your own profession.
Profession is right, Mr.
Steele.
Follow me.
I've rented myself a piece of an Italian earth survey satellite.
It sends radio beams right through the ground right back to me.
Copper and tin, uranium, and the big "G"gold.
- Impressed? I'll say.
- An Italian satellite? Hey, you gotta start somewhere.
And the doubloons from the San Jacinto Mountains? - I'm working on them.
- Without much success apparently.
You know, it's ironic.
All this technology and you're in the same boat as everyone else.
You need the scratchings of an old prospector to find that gold.
Show Sherlock and the bunny rabbit out.
This interview is terminated.
[Sighs] Senor Murietta? Ah, buenos dias.
Uh, this is Remington Steele.
Sherlock Holmes.
That's right, yes.
Excuse me? Gremlins? Oh, I see.
No, I'm not actually calling about automobiles.
L Well, that does sound like quite a steal, but actually l No, racing stripes wouldn't make a difference.
Uh, Senor Murietta, I wish to inform you that, um we have recovered the missing journal, mm-hmm.
Let me see if I understand this.
He called all the suspects and told them we had the journal in the office safe? And he expects the innocent people to try and steal it, but not the guilty party.
Because he or she already has it.
I must admit it does make a peculiar kind of sense.
Don't you think he's becoming a little too involved in this case, Laura? Well, he does have previous experience with gold.
I thought as much.
Did you see the way his eyes lit up when DeVore started talking about the gold? Like a couple of doubloons.
How high do you think his trust quotient is on this case, Laura? About the same as it is on anything else.
Oh, that bad, huh? [Whispers] Someone's coming.
I can't believe this is actually working.
Oh.
[Laughs] You know, that's a fine lock you got there.
- Oh, yeah.
- Uh What I was doing, l-I, uh, I was checking to see if the journal was tucked away safe and sound from them thievin' hands.
- Oh.
- Well, I see it is.
And I'll be on me way.
Lou Cody was the only one who didn't try to break in.
- I can't believe it actually worked.
- Ergo Cody has the journal.
- He's gone for the gold.
- My machete will taste his blood.
The man's a devil, and someone should stop him.
Mm.
[Clears Throat] Miss Holt, um - I know what he's gonna ask.
- You do? Mm-hmm.
Now that we know it's Cody, what do we do with them? I was interested in Laura's thoughts on the subject.
Let 'em go.
There you go, Murphy.
We let 'em go.
I want you to give Miss Kilbride an update.
Tell her we've identified the man who has the journal.
And you take me to the place where you first bumped into Cody.
Perhaps Murphy and I should go.
It's hardly the ambience for a young Don't be ridiculous.
I'm a private investigator.
- It's my job to fit in everywhere.
- Mm, right.
- What a pesthole.
- Lookin' for me, honey? If you'd feel more comfortable, you can wait in the car.
Hey, this is Laura Holt, P.
I.
Let's sweat some info out of these turkeys and split.
Whatever you say, big fella.
We don't get too many lookers in here.
- Do you mind? - No.
- [Moaning] - [Grunting] - I'm looking for Lou Cody.
- Oh, he left a couple of hours ago.
- I'm looking for Lou Cody.
- Oh, he left a couple of hours ago.
- Did he say where he was going? - Yeah.
- Where was that? - How 'bout another smooch? How 'bout a shot of bourbon, eh? Well, if that's the best I can promote.
Uh, bartender, a shot of bourbon for Molly.
Thanks.
Lou Cody? Hmm? Now, was it, um - Ojai or Oxnard? - Well Bakersfield? Barstow? Burbank? Let me get this straight.
The object of this game is to get those balls into these pockets with this little ball? - Uh-huh.
- Okay.
[Grunts] Last call.
Oh, thanks for the drink.
Uh-huh.
I gotta go close up now.
Uh, Lou Cody.
He went to Howardville.
Howardville.
[Steele] Howardsville, eh? Seems deserted.
[Rattling] [Clears Throat] Blood.
Never a good sign.
- [Steele] It's Lou Cody.
- And Arnold Dobbs's journal.
A contact lens.
Tinted green.
Hmm? Yes.
Shouldn't be too difficult to determine which of our suspects fits that prescription once we return to civilization.
From the trail of blood, Lou Cody was shot in here.
And once the killer was gone, he obviously tried to make his way back to where he hid the journal.
Gold fever's a frightful disease, Laura.
It can turn an honest, decent man into a treacherous, devious animal bent on destroying anything that stands in his way.
Are you speaking from experience? Treasure of the Sierra Madre.
Uh, Humphrey Bogart, Walter Huston.
Warner Bros.
Um, 1948.
What are you doing? Just trying to make things cozy.
I, uh [Clears Throat] I thought we could have a relaxing evening, and then get some rest.
After all, we have to catch a killer in the morning.
Where's my sleeping bag? I, um, I thought theJeep was a trifle overcrowded so I only packed one sleeping bag.
You only brought one sleeping bag? Yes.
Then where are you going to sleep? Laura, the mountain air can freeze a man to death.
We must huddle together for warmth.
Use the heat of our bodies to ward off the bitter chill of the night air.
Well, in the interest of survival.
Yeah.
Cin-cin.
- Mmm.
- Mm-hmm.
- Okay.
- Okay.
- Oh.
- Yes.
Okay.
[Zipper Zips] [Laughs] Close quarters.
Yes, delightfully cramped.
Our bodies should have no trouble generating a veritable bonfire of live-giving heat.
There we go.
Okay.
Listen to this.
"I saw them again today.
"They are definitely after the gold "Red Neck and Two Eyes.
"I have never seen such as him "with one eye as green as the grass and the other as dark as his soul.
" Dan Curtin had one green eye and one brown eye.
- I wonder who Red Neck was.
- [Kisses] Don't know.
Skip to the part where Dobbs tells where he hid the gold.
Just how much of a hobby was this gold hunting of yours? You know how I am around shiny objects.
I can't resist them.
For instance, your shimmering eyes.
Did gold ever turn you into a treacherous, devious animal? Your glistening lips.
Bent on destroying anything that stood in - [Wind Whistling] - [Man Laughing Wildly] Who is that? It sounds like Captain Emmett DeVore.
I've heard laughter like that before in the jungles of the Yucatan.
It's the sound of a man made mad with the vision of - Gold? - [Man Laughing] Then again, he could just be remembering a good joke.
If he's the killer, then he has a gun.
And if he's not, why bother him? Hmm? We've gotta take turns sleeping.
Two people have died already for this journal.
Really? I didn't feel like in the mood for sleep anyway.
- Good.
Then you can take the first watch.
- Thank you.
[Groans] [Man Laughing] Well, Emmett it certainly sounds like you're having a better time than I am.
What's she doing here? I, uh, made a mistake.
I told her Lou Cody was up here with the journal.
- Swell.
- Oh.
What's she doing here? I have come to claim the gold on behalf of the California State Historical Society.
- Oh, swell.
- Do you have the journal, Mr.
Steele? Yes, yes, Miss Kilbride, I have it.
Have a look, Laura.
He's wearing glasses.
We may not have to wait till we get back to civilization to bag our killer.
You know, you drive like a typical gringo.
Hard to keep up with, but easy to follow.
I could see your dust for miles.
And where you going in this? A bar mitzvah? I warn you, Senor Murietta.
That gold belongs to the State of California.
My great-great- great-great-grandfather Pepe Murietta, stole that gold.
And what my ancestor steals is morally mine.
- Interesting logic.
- I come from a very proud family, Mr.
Steele.
We were once the finest bandidos north of Guadalajara.
Now we're reduced to hustling used LTDs.
But with that gold, my family could regain a piece of its noble past.
Who knows? We might even get into, uh, Datsuns and Toyotas.
- So is she.
- What? Wearing glasses.
You almost lost me at the fork but I just followed the smell of the mules.
[Sniffs] At least I thought it was the mules.
[Helicopter Approaching] They're all wearing glasses.
This isn't going to be the ophthalmological piece of cake we thought.
Competition.
I love it.
Being the first one to the gold wouldn't be half as much fun if I didn't know there was a string of losers trailing behind.
No one is going to find that gold without Arnold Dobbs's journal.
And I'm happy to say it safely resides in the hands of my representative Mr.
Remington Steele.
As long as you have that journal, Steele, you'll have a shadow.
- Make it two.
- Tres.
Mr.
Steele would rather die than give up the journal.
Mm-hmm.
Nicely put, Miss Kilbride.
Inaccurate, but nicely put.
You rotten lowlife scum! Don't you give me that! You want the gold as much as I do! I found that journal and what it brings is mine! I don't need no stinkin' partner! And you watch your back, lady, 'cause I'm gonna be breathing down it.
Miss Holt? - [Growls] - Extraordinary performance.
The slap was inspired.
The chair was magnificent.
Murphy, of course, well, he was a bit wooden but played well enough for the provinces.
I want them to think he's against us, so they'll confide in him - when we go after the gold.
- Aha.
- Now we're talking, eh? - Only to find the murderer.
Oh, yes, of course, of course.
The gold is secondary.
Tertiary.
A mere afterthought.
For goodness sake, get a handkerchief.
You're starting to drool.
Hmm? All right! Who sabotaged my chopper? His injector.
- [Clears Throat] - [Man Laughing] Captain DeVore, we're leaving now.
- [Braying] - [Engine Not Starting] Transportation problems, Mr.
Steele? Well, it just so happens I have some real cream puffs for sale here.
- How much.
- Five hundred.
- Seems a little steep.
- Well, in that case - there's the subcompact model.
- We'll take top of the line.
Well, I think I can piece enough together to get us going in a general direction.
As long as they tag along and Emmett isn't far behind we'll have all the suspects together.
Maybe we can find out who's missing that contact lens.
Yes, well, let's try to do this as expeditiously as possible.
Having a determined killer at our backs isn't the most comforting thought.
"Red Neck and Two Eyes are closing in for the kill.
I will head due north away from our camp so that Blackie can hide the gold.
" - Who's Blackie? - Apparently Dobbs had a friend with him on that final trek.
This Blackie is charged with secreting the gold in an old Indian burial ground.
The gold can wait.
Right now I need a little diversion that only the inimitable Remington Steele can provide.
- - Psst.
- Psst.
Miss Dobbs.
- What do you want? - You knew I'd come.
- I did? Oh, ever since that first day in my office I've been tormented with visions of us together.
Come.
The moment I looked into your Eskimo green eyes Your Eskimo brown eyes, l Your one green eye, your one brown eye.
That green contact lens was yours.
You dropped it in the saloon.
That's an unusual genetic trait you have.
The journal speaks of someone with one green eye and one brown eye.
All right.
I'm not Arnold Dobbs's daughter.
I'm Dan Curtin's daughter, and I want revenge on the person who killed my father.
- Lou Cody perhaps, huh? - No! All I found in that saloon was a pool of blood.
Help, thief! Watch the food! [Donkey Brays] Epic battle, Mr.
Steele.
Yes, it was rather John Wayne-ish, wasn't it? Congratulations, Duke.
You just managed to destroy the entire camp chase away the pack animals and lose all the supplies.
Oh, well then, it appears I've done all I can for this evening.
I think I'll turn in, eh? [Steele Groaning] Wonder what set Felix off like that.
I was merely reading aloud from Mr.
Dobbs's journal.
He was reminiscing in the most torrid terms about his Mexican lady friend.
Called her his little sierra tesora.
When Senor Murietta heard that he went quite bananas.
I'm afraid we'll see more of that as we get closer to the gold.
Ouch.
Where's the journal now? Last place anyone would suspect on Miss Kilbride's gentle person.
And I'll blast the first bugger who tries to get his thieving hands on it.
- Her too? - Hmm.
Eventually the fever infects everyone.
- Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Really.
- Come here.
- Don't spit on it, please.
- I won't.
They're gone.
They're all gone.
Sylvia too.
And Murphy.
[Man Coughing] Help.
Help.
[Coughing Continues] Perhaps Murphy should brush up on his Stanislavsky.
Apparently they didn't buy his performance as the gold-crazed traitor.
[Groans] Water! Water! We all need water, Murphy.
Come on.
Everybody except him.
Look at him.
All he wants is the gold! - The pressure's too much for you, Murphy.
- Too much for me! Don't make me laugh.
You wanna leave me behind and keep all the gold for yourself, don't you? Laura, I think now would be an appropriate time to seek some shelter.
Canadian Air Force exercises.
You watch.
Hut, hut, hut! Sugar Ray Leonard, huh? A right.
! A left.
! And a right, a left.
! A right.
! [Groaning] Champagne? Champagne.
[Groans] I know what you're thinking.
- Uh-huh.
Where are they? - Oh, I'm not in league with them, sir.
No, I simply went ahead, all by myself, to scout the lay of the land.
To be your pathfinder, so to speak.
Your Hawkeye.
He's a liar.
I found this on his mule.
[Kilbride] I don't understand.
When Captain DeVore came to me in the night and asked me for thejournal he assured me that Mr.
Steele simply wanted us to be a step ahead of the others.
And it wasn't stealing, no, no, not when the gold so clearly belongs to Emmett DeVore.
Oh, sure, and now I suppose you're gonna say you haven't even found it.
Hey, steady on, old chum.
Why don't you just take a snooze in the shade? Why? So you can all go on ahead and find the gold without me? I know you wanna bury me out here like a dog.
Murphy, please rest! You're not yourself.
No, not "Go get the autopsy reports" Murphy anymore, huh? You think I don't see through your little scheme? I'm wise to you guys.
I'm gonna find the gold! - We better follow him.
- Oh, Murphy.
Oh, my God.
Dobbs's gold.
- [Clanging] - It's mine! It's all mine! Where's the rest of it? There's gotta be more.
This can't be all there is.
It's a trick.
It's a dirty rotten filthy trick! - Murphy, get a grip on yourself.
- That hurt.
"The last will and testament.
" The beneficiary is Arnold Dobbs? He left his worldly possessions to himself? This isn't Dobbs's will.
"I Emmett DeVore, being of sound mind" If that's Emmett DeVore, then who's - Arnold! - So, you're Arnold Dobbs, eh? - [Kitty] He's Arnold Dobbs? - He can't be Arnold Dobbs.
- Arnold Dobbs is dead.
- [No Accent] You're good, Mr.
Steele.
Really good.
I'll give you that.
I see you've lost your brogue, Mr.
Dobbs.
Emmett DeVore was a son of the sod.
I, on the other hand, was born in Hackensack.
- Care to explain? - We were out here forever.
Days were passing, provisions were scarce.
The sun was driving us mad.
And then we hit upon a plan.
Blackie, the real Emmett DeVore decided to stow the doubloons in an old Indian burial ground while I rode hell-bent for leather in a great cloud of dust leading Dan Curtin and Lou Cody on a wild-goose chase.
Then Lou Cody was the second man after you.
Red Neck we used to call him.
He always wore a red bandana around his neck.
That man was relentless.
And when you escaped these mountains, you kept the name Emmett DeVore, right? It was sure a hell of a lot safer than being Arnold Dobbs.
I mean, they'd never stop looking for him.
That's what Dan Curtin was trying to tell us right before he died? Not "80 loons," "A.
D.
Doubloons.
" A.
D.
For Arnold Dobbs.
And so you killed my father rather than have him expose your true identity.
No, child.
He only said A.
D because it was such a shock to still see me alive and kicking.
- Murderer! - No! No! You don't - No, no, no, no! - You don't understand.
You don't understand.
No.
Don't kill him until we find out where the gold is.
If you're Arnold Dobbs, then you wrote the journal? - Yeah.
- Why does it say "sierra tesora'"? Well, that was a nickname for a friend of mine that I knew a long, long time ago.
It means "mountain treasure.
" My mother's gringo lover used to call her that.
- Where were you in '52? - Sonoma.
IAy, caramba.
! I was born in Sonoma in 1952.
Son? - Son! - i: Papi.
! Some kids have all the luck.
Who are all these people? Well, you see, Miss Kilbride Kitty Curtin assumed the name of Dobbs in order to seek revenge on her father, um, Dan Curtin's killer while, um, Arnold Dobbs took the name ofhis partner, Emmett DeVore in order to avoid being killed by Dan Curtin and Lou Cody.
Thank heavens you're who you say you are, Mr.
Steele.
[Snickers, Clears Throat] Well, ordinarily the sight of a long-lost son rushing to his father's bosom might reduce me to strong emotion; however, it doesn't, uh bring us any closer to finding our killer.
- Not to mention the gold.
- Let me see that bandana.
- Not to mention the gold.
- Let me see that bandana.
That's Lou Cody's bandana.
Where did you get this? Uh, McCormick's helicopter.
I wrapped the injector in it.
Of course.
The killer obviously took it from Lou Cody's body probably to wipe his hands after he searched him for the journal.
So, you killed Lou Cody.
- And my father.
- Why? Why else? For the gold.
I'm going broke with those farkuckt computers.
You know how much those Italians charge for their lousy satellite? I haven't had a strike in six years.
I wasn't about to let this one get away.
Whoever you had to kill for it, eh? I'm taking the mules and the water and thejournal and that satchel.
Now! It'll be a long time before anyone finds you up here.
By then you'll just be a bunch of bleached bones.
- Murphy, he's got the gold.
- Gold! You murderer! Epic battle, Miss Holt.
- Look, enough of this stupid detective business.
- Hey, hey, hey! - Where's the gold? - Okay, okay.
It's all right, Son.
Now if my calculations are right that Indian burial ground is right over that rise.
They built a shopping center over my gold? [Hysterical Laughing] [Laughter Continues] [Mews]