Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I'll send you a postcard, all right?
It's easier just to skip the whole rigmarole and go to jail.
-The client. -Drove her car off a cliff.
Augie, don't do that. Please, sit down.
I'd left Dennis Jones back in Indio, came to the big city as Dennis Spring.
Man catches 40 winks, next thing you know, he's in a different climate.
...hunting down wanted criminals. I just dropped by this morning...
I hope we don't go through that cactus field.
Hold on, David.
Okay, Miss Hayes.
And a client's about to walk through that door...
Well...
You don't think Mrs. Spring has the right to know?
If anybody would know, you would. You've elevated denial to an art form.
She wanted answers but couldn't live with them.
You're crazy.
Yeah. Okay, go away.
Pretty soon you'll have me out of your flaxen locks.
He took my Christina...
...I really should thank you for leading me to Dennis.
-But you can't prove anything. -Yeah?
Hey, wait a minute, stewardess. I mean, flight attendant...
It's not as if there isn't someone ready, willing and able to fill his shoes.
Hey, you need a lift?
Thanks again, Agnes.
It did?
They wouldn't reopen the case, some crap about double jeopardy.
It's okay.
But guys have to pretend like they're bulletproof...
Drove her car off a cliff, like Michael Spring's wife.
She died 10 years ago. Drove her car off a cliff.
Mr. Addison, here's your ticket.
Pretty soon there won't be hardly any oxygen at all.
-Man must be very elusive. -Yeah, he's hard to find too.
Guess I have some time.
So do you.
-What about him? -When we talked about him...
I'm not getting older, I'm getting better.