Diagnosis Murder (1993–2001): Season 2, Episode 2 - A Very Fatal Funeral - full transcript

Are you hungry? Yeah.

How long were we in there?

Oh, about six
hours, I think. Really?

I didn't see a clock.

I won't stand for it anymore.

I have eyes.

I have ears. This
situation is a disgrace

and if you think
I'll be party to it,

you do not know Norman Briggs!

I quit!

Norman, you all right?



How much did you hear?

You have eyes. You
have ears. You quit.

We're going to miss
you around here, Norman.

Who gets your parking space?

I was talking about my position

on the board of the
Malone Foundation.

Oh, you mean that charity
group with the free clinics?

I'm resigning this afternoon.

But, Norman, you love that work.

Well, two months ago,

I arranged a special
discount on medical supplies

for some of the
foundation's clinics.

It wasn't easy, but I managed

to cut the distributor's
price by ten percent.



Yesterday, I found out

that Elton Malone
himself cancelled the deal.

Why would he do that?

Because he rules the board

like it was his own
private kingdom.

Budgeting and
procurement is a disaster.

Clinics run out of
supplies and equipment,

programs go unfunded,
and nobody seems to care.

Well, I care.

It's really weird seeing
Norman get so worked up

about some free clinic thing.

I thought he only cared
about counting pencils.

There's more to Norman

than you imagine, Jack.

Got an update on the assignment
roster from Briggs' office.

Delores, we just got out
of six hours of surgery.

Please tell me it's good news.

Okay. It's good news.

Good. Good.

Because of last
month's budget cuts,

you're both working
Saturday shifts.

What?

12:00 to 12:00.

I won't stand for it
anymore. I have eyes.

I have ears. The
situation is a disgrace.

And if you think
I'll be a party to it,

you don't know Elton Malone.

I'll bet you thought

you could pull the wool over
my eyes forever, didn't you?

Well, you couldn't.
I may be old,

but I'm not blind. What wool?

Elton, what are
you talking about?

I'm talking about embezzlement,

Mr. Slater.

Embezzlement?

Well, surely, an
investment broker

like yourself can
understand the concept

of embezzlement, Mr. Damon?

You mean stealing?

I mean the systematic theft

of foundation funds by one
of the people in this room.

You're not serious.

There's $300,000 missing

from our purchase
and supply accounts.

Now, as the wife
of a congressman

accustomed to
accepting bribes...

Oh, I mean, PAC contributions...

You may not call
$300,000 serious,

Mrs. Shaw, but I do.

How do you know
one of us took it?

I could say the same way I
know you run a brewery, Slater.

By smell.

The fact is, only we five
members of the board

have access to the
account in question.

This is outrageous!

I'm leaving.

Sit down, Mrs. Shaw.

Unless you want
your husband's name

tied to the scandal.

Not going too fast for
you, am I, Jennifer?

Oh, uh... no, sir.
I've got every word.

Well, be sure to get
this. This morning,

I found proof of
the thief's identity.

To avoid scandal,
I'll give the thief

until the end of
business today to return

the missing money.

Otherwise, I turn
everything over

to the district attorney.

And that is my final word.

Mr. Malone!

Oh, my God! He wasn't kidding!

About what?

Those being his final words.

He's dead.

Why did they have
to use that picture?

Even my mother says it
makes me look like a criminal.

You have to admit your
eyes do look a little shifty.

I had a headache.

I always squint when
I have a headache.

Well, Norman, you may have
a bigger headache coming.

It says here that bank
auditors have confirmed

that $300,000 is missing

from the foundation's
main account.

By the way, Norman,
is that a new suit?

You said that

Malone had some kind of
evidence in an envelope?

The police say there
was nothing inside

but a blank sheet
of paper, Mark.

So, Malone was bluffing.

You know, Malone
was probably hoping

that the threat itself

would make the
embezzler reveal himself.

The head of the hospital
called me at home last night.

He wants a full report
concerning my activities

with the Malone Foundation.

Very Kafkaesque.

Very!

Oh, Norman, he can't think

you had anything to do with
taking the foundation's money.

My life couldn't
possibly get any worse.

We got the
toxicology report back.

Elden Malone was murdered.

What?

You were saying, Norman?

Oh, God.

Somebody put fast-acting poison

on the gummed
flap of the envelope.

So, when he licked
it, he must have just...

He poisoned himself.

It's a homicide
investigation now.

Every member of that
board is a murder suspect.

Everyone?

Officially,

even you, Norman.

Come on, there's
a bright side here.

And what, may I ask,
is that, Dr. Stewart?

Well, Norman, if you go to jail,

the hospital can
rent your office out.

So, even in prison,

you'll be helping out dear
old Community General.

Would you please excuse
me? I don't feel very well.

Thank you, Steve.

You need to really work

on your bedside
manner, Dr. Stewart.

What? Har-de-har-har.

Come on. It was a joke.

You thought it was
funny. Steve, come on.

Steve! You thought
that was funny, right?

They hate me.

They all hate me.

They think all I care
about is saving money.

Especially Jack.

Do you think Jack's
a good doctor?

One of the best.

You ever tell him that?

For now, he'll just
have to muddle through

without my compliments.

I have other things on my mind.

Tell me about your
fellow board members.

Well, there's, uh...
there's Mort Slater.

He owns a brewery. He
seems to do very well.

Then there's Christine Shaw.

She... she inherited money,

and her husband's
running for Congress.

They're all right.

Alexander Damon...

What about Damon?

Damon's an investment broker.

He lives very, very well.

But a few months ago,

I heard he was having
trouble signing clients.

I don't know, maybe the
recession and everything.

Tell me everything you
know about his business,

and where I can find him.

Yes, I'm here to see one of
your guests: Alexander Damon.

He's expecting me.

Excuse me, sir.

Mr. Damon's in the Empire Suite.

I'd be happy to show
you up if you'd like.

Oh, thank you.

Uh... never mind.

I understand.

No, look, tell Zurich
that, if they want in,

I expect a cashier's check
deposited to our account

at the Swiss Bank no later
than tomorrow morning.

No more delays. Capisce? Good.

Accountants.

Excuse me?

Accountants, Dr. Sloan,
are the bane of my existence.

What they obviously
lack in imagination

they more than make
up for in pigheadedness.

No, when it comes to money,

I prefer dealing with
principals like yourself.

Ah!

Thank you.

On the phone, you
mentioned something

about being interested
in investments.

Oh, yes. I wanted to ask you

a few questions first, if I may?

Fire away. Just exactly what

kind of investments do
you broker, Mr. Damon?

Art, Dr. Sloan.

My investors buy
and sell fine art.

I advise and assist them.

Gee, I understood
that, uh... fine art...

the market kind of collapsed
in the late '80s, didn't it?

Oh, not at all. Not at
all. As a matter of fact,

if one knows what one is
doing, it's quite a lucrative market.

Well, I obviously couldn't live

like this if I didn't
know what I was doing.

Yes. Very reassuring.

Let me show you something.

It's really very interesting.

Hmm.

Oh.

It looks better that way.

What is that?

It's a Picasso pencil sketch.

Oh, Picasso.

No wonder I didn't know
what I was looking at.

Previously unknown,

this was recently discovered
in a restaurant in Madrid.

I-It's really quite
an interesting story.

You see, Picasso used
to pay his restaurant bills

with sketches on napkins.

Is that a fact?

Well, that probably explains
the coffee stain right there.

My investors will buy this
for half a million dollars.

A half a million
dollars for a napkin?

I have a dealer in Tokyo
who will take this from us

right now for $2 million.

Yes, Alexander Damon.

Oh, yes, yes, yes.

Um... I almost forgot.

Uh... yes, I understand.

Yes, thank you.

I'll be down soon.

It's my chauffeur.

Uh... I'm expected
at a funeral in an hour.

Oh, of course.

So, Dr. Sloan,
can I put you down

for a share in the investment?

Well, how much
have you raised so far?

$300,000.

Oh, that's a lot of money.

Did you have any
trouble getting it together?

Oh, not at all.

So, are you in, Doctor?

Oh, put me down for 200.

$200,000, eh?

No. Dollars.

200... dollars?

What's life
without a little risk?

Yes, I'd like the
Empire Suite, please.

I'm sorry, sir.

The Empire Suite is unavailable.

I can put you in the
Presidential Suite.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

The Cardinal was quite specific
it has to be the Empire Suite.

Are you sure it's unavailable?

Umm... the Empire Suite
is on permanent lease

to Sheik Abdul Ben
Luffar of Saudi Arabia.

Abdul Ben Luffar.

That would make his
initials ABL, wouldn't it?

Yes. You're right
on top of things, sir.

The, uh... Sheik's
out of town right now?

Uh... yes, he is.

Of course, we want to
accommodate the Cardinal.

Um... just which
Cardinal would that be?

Uh... one of the
St. Louis Cardinals.

But he'll just have to stay
with the rest of the team.

This is going to cost you.

Delores, do I detect a faint
whiff of blackmail in the air?

That's no whiff, Doc.
That's a full-fledged bouquet.

If I do this little
service for you,

you're gonna do your paperwork.

All six months of it.

Six months?

Time flies, don't it?

He'll do it.

So you can actually tap into

Alexander Damon's
financial records

on your hospital computer?

Well, as a broker, he
has to file with the SEC

and that's all public data.

Ah, there, we're in.

Let me see that.

Go right there, and there.

Delores, you are as
brilliant as you are beautiful.

But you've still got
to do your paperwork.

We'd better get cracking, Dad.

Elton Malone's funeral
is in a half an hour.

Oh, darn.

And I was so looking forward
to diving into that pile of work.

Well, life is sometimes unfair.

You can run but
you can't hide, Doc.

My paperwork and I

will track you down.

I know where you live.

"In the sweat of thy
face shalt thou eat bread,

"till thou return
unto the ground;

"for out of it wast thou
taken: for dust thou art,

and unto dust
shalt thou return."

May he rest in peace.

Amen.

Alexander Damon,
Lieutenant Sloan, Homicide.

You were warned not to leave
town pending our investigation

into the murder of Elton Malone.

Well, I'm not going anywhere.

Then what was that ticket to
London doing in your briefcase?

Oh, Dr. Sloan, I...

Your investment business
is falling apart, Mr. Damon.

Well, that's ridiculous.

You're so broke you bribed
a bellboy to hold meetings

in an empty hotel suite
just to keep up appearances.

According to SEC records,

you haven't raised any new
funds from investors in months.

And yet not an
hour ago you told me

you had $300,000 to
buy a Picasso sketch.

Where'd you get the $300,000?

Embezzle it from the
Malone Foundation

and then murder Elton Malone

when he threatened
to expose you?

Don't you have anything to say?

I think we've heard the
last from Mr. Damon.

He's dead.

Fires... floods...
earthquakes... civil unrest.

And now this.

Who said there was
nothing to do in Los Angeles?

Ah, Norman.

According to this... Yeah?

Alexander Damon was shot by
an air gun dart soaked in curare.

Curare?

That's a muscle relaxant adapted
for use in general anesthesia.

It says South American
natives poison their arrows in it.

Poison arrows.

Good Lord.

Well, if Damon was
shot with an air gun,

why didn't anyone
else see it happen?

Because everybody was
busy watching Mark accuse him

of murder and embezzlement.

Now it turns out Damon
raised the $300,000 legitimately.

And he wasn't the thief.

Well, he certainly
cleared himself of murder.

Thank you for pointing that
out, Dr. Stewart. No problem.

All right, then why did

the real embezzler kill him?

Well, maybe Damon
had some information

that would've exposed the thief.

The police still have two
suspects under investigation.

Three.

My bank records were
subpoenaed this morning.

Now, Norman, that is
standard police procedure.

Is that so, Dr. Bentley?

Tell that to them.

They're all thinking,
"Did he do it?

Did he take that money?
Did he kill all those people?"

Everybody's wondering.
They're all wondering.

No, they're wondering

if you're gonna schedule them

for double shifts
again this month.

The union is not going

to stand for any more
involuntary overtime.

I'm calling a meeting
of the union reps tonight.

Is there anything you
want me to tell them?

Yes. What?

Tell them I didn't do it.

That man's got me worried, Jack.

He'll be all right.

Did you see the picture of
him in the paper this morning?

Would you stop? Stop it.

You know, Christine Shaw's
husband's campaigning

for re-election to Congress.

That takes a lot of cash.

I wonder if their campaign
needs any volunteers?

And I'm very interested in
your husband's child care.

Reform legislation, Mrs. Shaw.

Oh, we think it's vital for
the good of the nation. Yes.

I'd like to work for your
husband's campaign.

Well, we can always use

financial support.

Is the campaign
in need of money?

Well, there's always a need.

And I know that your family
has been most generous

in the past, Miss Bentley.

Actually, I was hoping to
work in the campaign office first.

Just to get a feel for things.

That would be lovely.

Oh, okay.

You're going to run out of spit.

I think I already did. My
mouth feels like cotton.

Why don't you try
using one of these?

Oh.

Well, this is a
handy little gadget.

You know, you could fill
it with just about anything

and just roll it right across

the flap of the
envelope, couldn't you?

That's the general idea.

Even curare.

Pardon me?

Oh, my Ferrari.

You see, it's in the shop

and I was just giving myself
a mental thought to pick it up.

So why don't you use

an automatic envelope sealer?

Because automatic
sealers cost money.

I thought the
Shaws were well off?

They had a lot of stock
in savings and loans.

That's your line, Regina.

Campaign office.

Just a second, Mr. Kirkland.

Mrs. Shaw?

Alan Kirkland on line one.

Yes, ma'am.

And you wanted me to remind you

that Mr. Damon's
funeral is this afternoon.

Right.

Mr. Kirkland?

I'll put you through now.

Creep.

Who?

Kirkland. Campaign
finance director.

Would he be the same person

that people refer to as
the political payoff king?

Trades money for votes?

You didn't hear it from me.

Officially, I love the guy.

You must be kidding, Alan.

Another $100,000?

That makes $300,000 this month.

You said the last payment
would take care of everything.

All right, but I have
to go to a funeral first.

You tell your friends...
this is the last silver

that crosses their greasy palms.

"In the sweat of thy
face shalt thou eat bread,

"until thou return
unto the ground;

"for out of it wast thou taken:

for dust thou art,

and unto dust
shalt thou return."

May he rest in peace.

Amen.

Amen.

Excuse me.

Were you and Mr. Damon close?

I hardly knew him.

He used to say hello to
me at every board meeting.

He would tease
me about my notes.

He had a nice smile.

Norman.

What are you doing here?

Helping a friend.

Watch.

Christine Shaw?

Lieutenant Sloan. Homicide.

Were you a friend
of Mr. Damon's?

I'm afraid I'm here
on official business.

Ask her about the money, Steve.

What money?

Amanda, please.
Let me handle this.

The $100,000 you
were planning on giving

your campaign finance director,

Alan Kirkland.

Where'd you get it, Mrs.
Shaw? The campaign's strapped.

Your husband's broke.
Did you take the money

from the Malone Foundation?

And when you were threatened with
exposure, did you kill Elton Malone?

Did Alexander Damon
find out about it?

Is that why you killed
him, too? You're insane,

the whole lot of you.

Stark raving bonkers.

Guess what?

Are you all right?

Yeah, I'll be fine.

Look at this, Mark.

Christine Shaw cashed in

her last trust fund to finance
her husband's campaign.

And now he's
dropping out of the race.

For a man who just lost his wife

and abandoned his
political ambitions,

Charles Shaw
looks awfully happy.

I think they were more his
wife's ambitions than his own.

Yeah.

Oh, poor Norman.

Don't dab the mop.

Swirl it!

You're wasting
soap! Here he comes.

Wake up, man!

Every penny counts!

Nice to see he's over
his depression anyway.

Sloan, where's your monthly Chief
of Medicine performance survey?

How can I crunch
budget performance ratios

if I don't get up-to-date
input from department heads?

And don't you have a
pathology lab to oversee,

Dr. Bentley? Yes,
and I'm on my way.

The tiger's loose.

Sloan,

I warned you about those.

Norman, I just got here.

Hospital insurance
doesn't cover injuries

to senior personnel
wearing roller-skates inside.

And look what you're
doing to the carpet!

What is this, a roller
rink or a hospital, Mark?

Hey, Norman,

you got a big problem

down in the cafeteria.

Seems that somebody
used an extra ketchup packet

without filing a requisition.

Mark, here's the, uh,
here's the chart you wanted

on Jennifer Sweeney,
the woman that fainted.

Oh, yeah. You wanted to see her

before she was discharged.

Think my job is
funny, Dr. Stewart?

Amuses the hell out of me.

Jack. Maybe you won't think
it's so amusing the next time

your contract crosses my
desk for administrative review.

Norman, lighten up. I was
just... And don't call me Norman!

My name is Mr. Briggs...
Remember that in the future.

Swirl! You're not swirling!

You're dipping! Keep
on swirling! Swirl!

Man... who lit his fuse?

You did, my friend,

and I think you
owe him an apology.

What? Come on,
Mark, I was just...

Look, I know what
you were doing.

And so did he.

So did you.

Hmm?

Go on.

All right.

What now? I apologize
for ragging on you.

Apology accepted. Good.

Fine. Great.

For what it's worth, I
don't think you did it.

I wish the hospital chairman
shared your high opinion of me.

He wants my resignation.

You're kidding.

He said it's for the
good of the hospital.

Well, what about, uh,
Steve, what does he say?

Any new leads or anything? No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Not a one.

But it has to be Mort Slater.

He's the only other
member of the board left.

There's an article in the
Financial Daily Times.

His business is
rumored to be in trouble.

He must have taken
the foundation's money.

I don't think so.

You don't think so?

No, I don't. Why not?

I'll tell you.

Mort Slater's like a legend
in my old neighborhood.

And I don't care
what anybody says

or any newspaper writes,
this guy is doing fine.

So unless I'm way off base here,

there's no way he needs
to steal anybody's money.

And you think I took it?

No, I didn't say that.
Well, if Alexander Damon

didn't take it, and
Christine Shaw didn't take it,

and you say Mort
Slater didn't take it,

then I take it I
must have taken it.

Thank you for your vote
of confidence, Dr. Stewart!

You're welcome.

Well, Miss Sweeney, it looks
like we're losing you today.

Miss Sweeney?

Jennifer?

I'm not leaving. Pardon?

You can't make me go.

Well, we've had you
here under observation

for two days already,
and you're fine.

You just fainted
under stress, that's all.

Well, one of the
other doctors said

that I have high blood pressure.

Fractionally.

And besides, the high blood
pressure shouldn't be fatal

unless you don't
take good care of it.

And even this family
history of heart trouble,

you're in no danger at all.

Three people are dead,
and you say I'm in no danger?

Everyone who was in that boardroom
is being murdered, Dr. Sloan.

I don't want to be next.

Jennifer, I doubt
you're a target.

Maybe you could
help me understand

why the other victims were.

Now, you attended all the
foundation's board meetings.

I took notes.

All right, give me your
impression of Elton Malone

and the other victims.

Well, Mr. Malone,
he wasn't very nice.

Mr. Damon,

he was charming.

He used to bring me presents
from his trips around the world.

Mrs. Shaw,

she could be bossy.

I didn't like her.

What about Mort Slater?

Oh, bad breath.

I'm sorry.

It's just that he always
smelled like beer.

Nice to see you smile.

And, uh, Norman Briggs?

Oh, he reminds me of my daddy.

My father had to know
where every penny went.

He had the same set of
false teeth for ten years.

He just hated to spend money.

Especially on himself.

Exactly like Norman
Briggs. Oh, oh,

but I don't think
Mr. Briggs is cheap.

I just think he's careful,
you know what I mean?

Believe it or not, I do.

Anyway, Jennifer, you're fine.

You have to go home.

Okay, I guess.

Dr. Sloan? Hmm?

Why do you wear roller-skates?

It's too hard turning
corners on skis.

You've come looking for
a job at a good time, Jack.

We're expanding operations
here the next few months.

I'm gonna need some new
people... but didn't I hear

that you were studying to
be a doctor or something?

Yeah. Didn't work out. Oh,
that's too bad. I'm sorry to hear it.

What are you gonna do?

So, how are things for you,
good? Better than good, Jack.

Oh, I'm glad to hear it...
'cause I heard something...

What'd you hear, Jack?

There was an article
in some newspaper...

Yeah, the Financial
Daily Times, right?

Yeah, it said that your
business was in trouble,

you needed money... It's the
Malone Foundation thing, Jack.

Watch your head
here. I'll tell you,

I never should've
volunteered for that board.

But my wife, she says
it'll be good publicity.

Now, because the
foundation's missing money,

I'm a suspect, and
everybody thinks I'm broke,

and my stock takes a nosedive.

I'll tell you something,
Jack, rumors'll kill you.

Come here, let me
show you something.

Let me have one of these.

"Zero Cal Brew.

All the beer but...
none of the calories"?

Are you kidding me? Is this
for real? We're shipping out

10,000 cases on Monday.

You, uh, you must
have a lot riding on this.

Every dime I have...
But once this hits,

I'll make a fortune.

So much for rumors, huh, Jack?

Yeah. Hey, you mind if I try
one of them? Uh, no freebies

till rollout, but I'll
tell you what, Jack.

You come back Monday,
I'll fill you in on the details,

I'll give you a
case gratis, okay?

Thanks. I got to run.

Well, I really appreciate
this, I do. My pleasure, Jack.

See you Monday.
Okay, you got it.

Coming through. All
right, you all through?

Yeah, we'll take my car.

Hi, Jack.

Steve, what are you doing here?

I'm conducting a
police investigation.

You know, it's illegal

to own lock picks if
you're not a locksmith?

What? Surgical tweezer
and dermatological scalpel.

It's doctor stuff. Mm-hmm.

Never leave home without it.

The door was open... how's that?

What I didn't see, I
don't know. Thanks.

So do you think, uh, do
you think Slater's the killer?

Well, if he's not,

that leaves Norman
Briggs. Oh, come on, Steve,

Norman might nickel-and-dime
me to death, but he's not a killer.

And I bet you it has something
to do with this new beer.

What? Don't close the door!

The tools are outside.

Is it locked? Yeah.

Oh...

"Zero Cal Brew."

Steve, I just want you to know
that I get a little nuts in rooms

that don't have windows, okay?

Jack... you got a match?

Maybe.

Yeah. Give me a boost.

All right.

Come on.

Okay, I'm ready. You ready?

Wait. No. Here we go.

Wai-Wai-Wai-Wai-Wait.

All right.

All right, here we go.

Okay. Go to your right.

Wait. No, go... the other right.

My right. Will you
just light the match!

There. Hang on.

We're gonna get wet.

What's going on?
It's not working.

You sure you got the flame

up to the sensor?

I-I don't know. I'll
try another one.

Uh... Jack, I'm getting
a cramp in my neck.

I got to put you down.

No! We got to get out of here.

Ow!

You all right?

I'm all right, yeah.

You? Yeah.

Oh, great.

No windows, locked door.

We're sealed in a tomb.

Why didn't the sprinklers work?

There's no corrosion,
no cracks, nothing.

Don't talk...
You're using up air.

You all right, Jack? Yeah.

That dust is making
me a little dizzy.

There's no dust in here.

Oh, Jack, you're
claustrophobic, aren't you?

A little. Just
don't tell Amanda.

Look, just take
some deep breaths.

Pretty soon you'll relax.

Close your eyes, that's it.

Okay. Just picture the
wide-open spaces, you'll be fine.

I can't.

All I remember
is... is being trapped

in a, in a refrigerator
when I was six years old.

It took my father
four hours to find me!

Well, don't think about that.

That's easy for you to say.

You've never been
trapped before.

Oh, yeah?

I once did a 24-hour
stakeout in a dumpster.

Man, I'm scrunched down
in the bottom of this thing.

Pitch dark, no air.

Just sweating and
smelling the rotten garbage.

I'm telling you, Jack, the walls

just closed in on me.

Let me out! Let me out!

Somebody open the door!

Open this!

All right. Easy!

Okay, I'm fine now.

Are you sure? Yeah, I'm fine.

All right. Take a few
deep breaths, all right?

Here, here. Rest a minute.

You okay? Yeah, I'm fine.

All right.

Wait a minute, Jack.

Uh-huh. You see that?

Alarm wire's been cut.

No alarms, no sprinklers.

A company in financial trouble.

I'd say your buddy
Mort's planning a torch job.

Like I care. Let's get
the hell out of here!

Fire in the store room!

Who are you guys?

Hey, what happened here?

Excellent response time, men.

You've earned the commendation.

Carry on.

Here you go, Mark.
Check this out.

Let me see that.

"Zero Cal Brew." Yep.

Is this really no-calorie beer?

It's really no calorie. Uh-huh.

Don't drink it!!

It's pretty good.

Yeah, the only side effect

is a huge instant hangover

which you should be
feeling right about...

now.

Ah!

Ah!

Fortunately, it only
lasts for about a minute.

A minute!

Hey, Steve, how much money

you think Slater spent
in developing this beer?

Well, the company's
quarterly stockholder report

puts the R&D figure

close to ten million.

Ten million? No way.

And all that money spent
and what does he got?

A great-tasting beer that
nobody's going to drink twice.

Where are we going?

To a funeral.

I hope it's mine.

Oh!

Look alive.

"In the sweat

"of thy face shalt
thou eat bread

"till thou return
unto the ground

"for out of it wast thou taken:

for dust thou art, and
unto dust shalt thou return."

May she rest in peace.

Amen.

Amen.

Mr. Shaw is so brave, isn't he?

Mort Slater,

Detective Sloan, Homicide.

You're under arrest for
embezzlement and murder.

What? Mr. Slater,

your brewery is about

to take a
ten-million-dollar loss.

That's why you stole

the Malone Foundation funds.

Hey, look, I was about
to lose ten million bucks.

Why would I waste my time
on a lousy $300,000, huh?

To pay an arsonist

to disengage your fire alarm
and torch your warehouse.

You wanted the insurance

to cover your
development losses.

That's why you
embezzled the money

and why you killed four
people to protect yourself.

Mr. Slater, you have
the right to remain silent.

I wish you hadn't
said that, son.

Hey, it could be worse.

How exactly could
it be any worse,

Dr. Stewart?

Well, we know Mort Slater
took the foundation's money.

What's your point?

The point is that it's at least
one thing Norman didn't do.

That's not funny.

But you don't know
who killed Slater

or the other
members of the board.

And you don't know why. True.

All you know is it was somebody

who was at each of the funerals

and had a gripe
against the board.

Right.

And you do know I was planning
to quit the board, how angry

I was at Malone, that I work

at a hospital and have
access to curare drugs

and I'm the last one left alive.

It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes

to realize I'm the
only possible suspect!

Well, you convinced me.

Jack, it isn't funny!
Look, Norman...

Mark, never mind.

Would you please give this to...

the chairman for me?

What's this?

His resignation.

Oh, for crying out loud!

Look, do me a favor and, um...

cover my patients?

Sure, Jack. Thanks.

He can't resign.

It's the silliest
thing for him to do

because it's an
admission of guilt

for him to hand
in his resignation.

That's right.

Records need your signature
on this patient's chart.

Okay.

There, there.

Look at this, Delores.

Yes.

High blood pressure.

Hmm?

Delores, would you
call the coroner's office?

I want to get some information
on a death certificate.

Sure.

Come in.

Mr. Briggs...

um...

you were right
about Mort Slater.

I was wrong.

I don't think that really
matters right now, does it?

Well, I guess not, but I
wanted to say it anyway.

You went to Yale?

Yale School of Management.

The class of '78.

There you are.

Wait a minute.

You were voted most popular?

80% of my class majored
in corporate studies.

I chose hospital administration.

You know why?

I can't believe you
used to be this thin.

I wanted to help people.

You spent two years

in the Peace Corps before
you went to graduate school?

You went to Nigeria?

Norman, how come we don't know

any of these things about you?

You never asked.

Jack...

what happened to me?

Where did I go wrong?

You want the truth?

Yes.

You started paying
more attention to process.

You know what I mean?

You worry more about
filing the proper form

than whether a
patient gets well or not.

This hospital ran a
deficit two years in a row

before I got here.

Community General came
this close to shutting down.

Really?

I didn't know that.

That's because doctors think

medicine is just
about curing people.

If I didn't take
care of that budget,

we wouldn't have a hospital.

Al least that's what
I keep telling myself.

I guess you're right.

I volunteered for the
Malone Foundation

because I wanted to feel
good about my work again.

Here I have to save
money, pinch pennies.

They were going to
spend it; open free clinics;

provide equipment
and medical supplies.

You know, my Uncle Frankie

trains heavyweights and, um...

he always says that
there's a time to quit

and a time to fight.

Maybe this is the
time for you to fight.

You want me to stay?

Eh...

Yeah, well, you know, if you
leave who am I going to rag on?

Right?

I mean, Mark's like
my father and, uh...

Amanda is too good-looking,
and Delores, she'll deck me.

So, well, you've got
to stay just for that.

Thank you, Jack.

But under the circumstances,
I don't think that's possible.

Norman?

Let's go. We'll be late.

Late? Late for what?

The funeral. Come on!

Oh.

Oh, God, no!

"In the sweat of thy
face shalt thou eat bread

"till thou return
unto the ground,

"for out of it wast thou taken;

for dust thou art, and
unto dust shalt thou return."

May he rest in peace.

Amen.

All units move in!

We've got a man down!

Hey, let go of me!

Norman!

All right, everybody,
please stay where you are.

Steve, I thought
you gave him a vest!

I did!

Oh, my God!

She got me! She got me!

It's all right, Norman.

I think you just fainted.

I fainted...

You didn't have a chance to
use your blowgun this time,

did you, Miss Sweeney?

I don't know what
you're talking about.

Mort Slater embezzled
Malone Foundation funds,

but embezzlement was never

the motive for those murders.

It was revenge, wasn't it?

Revenge for what?

Her father.

He died three weeks
ago of a stroke.

Just one week before
Elton Malone was poisoned.

You leave my father out of this.

You know, Miss Sweeney,
I remembered you said

your father didn't like to
spend anything on himself.

Even when it came to
medical care, you said

he liked to save money.

So I checked the
coroner's report.

Your father died waiting

for his blood pressure medicine

at a Malone
Foundation free clinic.

So what does that prove?

The clinic didn't have
the proper supplies

because Elton Malone
cancelled my order.

You blamed the Malone Foundation

and the whole Board for
the death of your father.

You've been killing

them off one by
one ever since...

with this.

This isn't an air gun!

Where's your air gun!

Mark, she doesn't
have an air gun!

You're very observant, Norman.

Can I go now?

Let her go.

I just want to say, Dr. Sloan,

I think you took one too many
headers on your roller skates.

Steve, I swear to
you, she's the killer.

Well, without a murder
weapon all we've got's a theory.

If we don't come up with
something else, that lady walks.

Mr. Briggs,

how'd it go?

Well, it didn't.

Steve's still
investigating, but...

You know, I'm actually
starting to feel sorry for Norman.

Oh, don't get too mushy.

Here's your rotation
assignment chart.

Double-shift weekend duty again?

Yes.

That's it.

Jennifer!

You didn't think I'd fall

for an obvious setup
like that, did you?

Daddy may have been
cheap, but he wasn't stupid,

and neither am I.

I'm sorry about your father.

I'm sorry.

He died in my arms
waiting for medicine

that wasn't there because of you

and all the other
hypocrites on the board.

You didn't care!

He was just one old man!

What difference did it make?

Please!

I arranged for the medicine.

I arranged for it.

He was my father.

He was all I had.

But you took him

from me.

Briggs, I want to talk to you!

Jack, Jack, the gun! Jack! Jack!

You saved my
life! God bless you!

You saved my life!
You saved my life!

Can you get him off me, please?

He saved my life!!

Mr. Briggs!

He saved my...!

Call me Norman!

Call me Norman!