Diagnosis Murder (1993–2001): Season 6, Episode 7 - Write, She Murdered - full transcript
A mystery novelist murders her agent, hoping the investigation will inspire her next book.
Dr. Horace Chilworth.
36.
Very attractive.
Research scientist.
On external examination,
I've discovered a single
medial-lateral incision
which has been re-sewn
for purposes I just don't
understand at this time.
In any event,
multiple stab wounds.
The angle of entry
and depth of the blows
indicate a clockwise pattern
of attack which matches exactly
to victim Gwendolyn Benedict,
who was pulled from
Ballona Creek last Friday.
Dr. Danielle Slade?
Yes, I'm Dr. Slade.
We're here to take
Dr. Chilworth off your hands.
Just like that?
We do have authorization.
Thank you.
Well, I don't recognize
the signature on this document,
so the body will just have
to stay with me.
Dr. Chilworth's body
has to be turned over to people
who are better equipped
to deal with it.
Well, I can deal with
the body just fine.
Now, if you gentlemen
will excuse me.
Great! This is
the best opening
that you've ever written.
I'm not just saying that
'cause I'm your agent.
Thanks for the compliment,
but I...
I man, another 350 pages
like this, and, uh...
you've got your fifth
best seller on your hands.
Not even, um, Sue Grafton
started this fast.
Well, I'm-I'm glad
you're so optimistic.
So...!
Where's the rest of it?
Jim, there's...
there's a little problem.
That's all.
All what?
All the pages I've written.
I haven't got any more.
The publisher expects
350 pages by Friday.
I have writer's block.
You don't have time
for writer's block.
If you don't meet this deadline,
they'll cancel your contract,
and then you'll
have to give back
the $25 million advance.
That's it, you see, the money...
It's so intimidating.
Oh...!
Forgive me for being
such a great agent
and turning you into the
next Mary Higgins Clark.
I want my $2.5 mill!
Please don't, don't yell at me.
I'm having a hard enough
time the way it is.
You don't know hard.
If you blow this, I'll
make sure that you
never sell another
book anywhere.
Oh... um...
you wouldn't have
any ideas, would you?
Any ideas, would I?
For all I care,
you could kill some poor slob,
follow the police around
and see how they solve it.
You just get me those
350 pages by Friday.
Okay.
Thanks.
That's a much better opening.
Not only was the victim
not killed
in the woods,
but his body was kept
in a freezer for six months.
Now, if it weren't for
the forensic entomologist
who was able to calculate
the amount of maggots
in his chest cavity,
we might never have known.
That's disgusting.
Oh, but bugs are
very hot right now,
and I'm just trying to do my job
as your technical advisor.
I know, and I couldn't write
the Danielle Slade
novels without you.
You know what I liked?
The cobra bite
in your first book.
You read Deadly Darkness?
Yeah. I have to admit,
I only picked it up
because Amanda was so giddy
about having her name in print.
I'm never giddy.
Oh, four thank-you notes
and flowers for a week
might be considered giddy.
Deadly Darkness was
a lot of fun to read.
As a matter of fact,
I picked up
your other three books, too.
I can't figure out where you
get all those great ideas.
Mmm... oh, pretty much
the way you do things,
I suspect.
I visualize the murder,
the killer, the motives,
and then I use the great
physical evidence
that Amanda always gives me.
I think physical evidence
is very important,
but it's no more important
than behavioral evidence.
Oh, you're right.
In fact, sometimes
behavioral is more important.
The real final clue.
The perfect solution to
what would otherwise
be considered
the unsolvable,
and when you find it,
you know exactly
where you're going
and when you're
going to get there...
the moment of perfect
synchronicity.
Not that it's easy
to find. No way.
And even when you do find it,
making the physical
and the behavioral
work together is a bitch.
I think I'm going
to the ladies' room.
She's between books.
Oh.
It's Kay's purse.
Oh.
Well...
You can't go in there.
Well, it might be important.
Hello?
Hello? Kay? You there?
Uh, Kay isn't here right now.
Who is this?
It's Jim.
Why aren't you there?
Call me.
Hello?
Kay isn't here right...
Hmm.
Static.
Dr. Sloan,
if you really needed
to make a phone call,
I could have loaned you
a quarter.
Actually,
your purse was ringing.
Oh.
I'm afraid it was
a bad connection.
It sounded like somebody...
uh, Jim somebody?
Jim Rothman, my agent.
He was being paranoid.
He got me
this huge three-book deal,
and I have to turn the
first manuscript in Friday.
I'm holding on to it
just to torture him.
Maybe you ought
to call him back.
Oh, not until after
we have lunch.
He won't stop being twitchy
until the check clears.
I should have been a call girl.
It's a lot easier way
to make a living.
It's her process.
This place smells great.
And you really own it?
Yep. Me and my son and
that blurry-eyed young man
in the scrubs over there.
Let me go take care
of this. Excuse me.
Busy, huh?
No kidding.
A 12-hour shift,
three nurses out sick,
we had a bus crash
and an outbreak of chicken pox
at a computer conference.
And now this.
What is this?
It smells like coffee.
So does that stuff
at the hospital,
and we all know
what that tastes like.
This is my restaurant.
I ordered Costa Rican.
Where is it?
Steve. He canceled my beans.
How could he cancel my beans?
I-I mean, I let him have these
plastic little ketchup bottles,
and... I want my coffee.
There's been a homicide.
Kay, I'm sorry.
We need you
to identify the body.
That's Jim, all right.
You all right?
No, not exactly.
I mean, that's...
that's my agent with a...
whatever stuck in his chest.
It's a letter opener,
and then there's this.
What's this?
A scorpion.
Ooh. Well,
message from
the killer, I'd imagine.
I have no idea what it means.
Well, it doesn't
make sense. Not at all.
Well, it will.
I hope so. I really do.
Look, this isn't a field trip
for pencil-pushing civilians.
You're a civilian, too,
and you're also a pencil pusher.
Damn right, and one of
Jim Rothman's best clients.
But once a cop, always a cop.
Retired Sergeant Mullen
was meeting Rothman for lunch.
He found the body...
And I immediately secured
the crime scene
as I've done
so many times before.
Right, from the front seat
of the chief's car.
You were a driver,
not a detective.
Baby, I saw more on the streets
when I was with the chief
than any detective
could see in a lifetime.
That's what gives my books
the stink of realism.
Yeah, well, you've got
the stink part right.
Steve, look at this...
The two coffee cups.
One of them could
be the killer's.
Nope. Coffee's too cold.
Timing's all wrong.
Let's dust these for prints.
Look at this.
Page 102 to page 130.
Huh. Chapter 12 is missing.
Oh, you noticed that, too.
Glad to see you're keeping up.
I'll have it checked.
Now, that's odd.
Hmm, three books upside down.
Uh-huh.
Well, Sloan, looks like
you got a tough one here.
You know, there aren't
that many clues,
but if there's anything else
I can do to help,
you know where to find me.
And he wonders why no one
gave him a retirement present.
Who could have done this?
Don't worry.
We'll figure it out.
Mark.
Thanks.
Take a look at this.
Let's see what clues
were left behind.
Well, for one,
there was the letter opener
left in literary agent
Horace Chilworth's chest.
Somehow appropriate,
yet... ordinary.
Then there were
the three mundane textbooks
all turned upside down...
Greener Grass in Six Days,
Kickboxing with Dickie Kimber
and
Lo-Cal Desserts for Two.
Ordinary.
Then we had... oh, yes.
The scorpion in the jar.
Definitely not ordinary.
And the rifled manuscript.
Could this be the deed
of some disgruntled writer
who was angered
by Chilworth's cool response
to his or her work,
and if so, why steal...
the 12th chapter of
his or her own manuscript?
Brilliant.
Brilliant only if you
can figure it out.
I think you left
too many clues hanging around.
There was the rifled manuscript,
the three upside-down books
and that damn scorpion.
What on earth
were you thinking about?
I don't know.
I just thought it would be
interesting on the jacket copy.
You're not playing fair
with your readers.
You cannot plant clues
not knowing where they lead.
No, that's the problem.
I don't know where
anything leads anymore.
Then how are you going
to work us through this one?
I'm not.
Mark Sloan will do it for me.
That's very creative.
Amanda Bentley's always saying
how brilliant he is.
Why not use him?
Oh!
Especially now that I'm stuck
with a dead Horace Chilworth
and no idea who killed him.
And Mark Sloan won't figure out
that you're the one who killed
Jim Rothman, right?
No way.
I left so many clues,
he'll be swimming
in a school of red herring.
Well, I'll use his deductions,
uh, for our basic plot points,
and then we'll fill in
the interesting parts
and I can make alterations
when it becomes mundane
or simplistic.
Not bad.
Hello?
Oh... um...
well, of course, Dr. Sloan.
I-I-I don't know what I can do,
but I'll certainly try.
Jim meant a lot to me.
The three upside-down books
were all written by clients
that Mr. Rothman dropped
earlier this past year.
Now, Steve figured that out
when he looked
at Rothman's records.
Well, Steve checked
their alibis.
One of them's dead,
and two of them don't even
live in L.A. anymore,
so if there's a message there,
I don't see what it is.
Well, we can't be
stumped already.
I mean, you said
yourself that there was
a chapter missing
out of that manuscript
and perhaps the killer
took it with him.
Especially if the chapter
included something damaging.
Well, I don't think that's it.
I mean, it was written
by that actor, Bruce Blazer.
He doesn't have any secrets.
Everybody has secrets.
Not Bruce.
And even if he did,
he'd use them
to get himself a cover story
in the
National Enquirer.
How can you talk about
the star of Tuttle
and the Mummy
like that?
Tuttle and the Mummy?
You know him?
Sure. Harry Tuttle
and his partner, the Mummy,
were supernatural crime fighters
on a '60s TV show.
They rerun it on one of those
cable stations at 2:00 a.m.
Haven't you guys
ever had insomnia?
Not that bad.
Tuttle and the Mummy
was canceled in 1968
and became an instant cult hit.
Bruce has been living off
the persona ever since
and writing these disgustingly
effective occult thrillers
for the last ten years.
The man's a walking
money machine.
Then he wouldn't want
to kill Jim Rothman.
Unless he suspected that Jim
was trying to cheat him.
Loyalty wasn't exactly
in Jim Rothman's lexicon.
We'd better find out
what's in that missing chapter.
Then let's go.
I don't think so...
Because, uh, this is a
police investigation,
and am the polic.
But you're not a writer.
I know these people.
I know this world.
I could save you a lot of time.
Jim was my agent.
She's right.
She'd be a big help.
I don't know why I bother.
He never went anywhere
without that suit.
My partner, the Mummy!
Fighting evil whenever it
threatens the innocent.
That's, uh...
that's good.
Ted was, uh...
largely responsible
for the success
of
Tuttle and the Mummy.
The fans loved him.
And what happened to him?
He was clocked by a golf ball
on the 17th hole
at Pebble Beach.
Turned him into a vegetable.
That's when I started writing.
Doing personal
appearances
without him
just seemed all wrong.
"The demon roared
with indignation
"at the intrusion
into his dark sanctuary
by such virginal interlopers."
Creeping Crawlers.
The prose is a little...
purple, isn't it, Bruce?
Not the gritty realism
of Danielle Slade
conducting autopsies
in a halter top.
At least I can write.
Well, we didn't come
for a literary critique,
so, uh, if you could
just print us out a copy
of chapter 12 of your
latest manuscript.
I don't use
a computer... dyslexic.
Hmm.
That must make it hard.
Dreadfully.
Well, maybe you could just
tell us what was in it, then.
I, uh...
actually, I haven't
read that far.
It's your book.
All those stunts I did
on the show
did bad things
to my short-term memory.
Or maybe you didn't write it
in the first place.
You have a ghostwriter?
Sid always said
that writing is
ten percent inspiration,
90% perspiration.
I don't like to sweat.
Sid... Abernathy?
That no-talent drudge
is your ghostwriter?
My creative collaborator.
Well, don't be so shocked.
All writers need
a little help now and then.
Well, maybe we should
have a little talk
with your, uh... helper.
Why would anyone
want to be a ghostwriter anyway?
Nobody knows what
you've accomplished.
Money.
Besides, those books
would never sell
under Abernathy's name.
Well, how would he
know if he didn't try?
Oh, he did.
Remember that passage
I read from Bruce's book?
It was originally
in one of Abernathy's
own detective novels.
He not only steals from himself,
he steals the worst parts.
If he's so bad,
why do you read him?
Well, don't you keep up
with other detectives?
Not the same thing.
Oh, sure it is.
Caseloads, best-seller lists...
It's all competition.
Mr. Abernathy?
Hey, it's open.
Hey, Sergeant Mullen.
Oh, no.
They're right inside.
Go on in.
Is he not going to solve
this one for us, too?
Oh, how you doing, Sloan,
Bentley, Doctor?
Don't tell me...
You had an appointment
with Abernathy.
Nope. Police scanner.
You know, I got to keep up
with these radio calls.
Never know when I might
be able to lend a hand.
I don't know how we're going to
figure this one out
without you, Mr. Mullen.
Sid Abernathy. Ah, looks like
one of his disgruntled fans
decided to save the world
from more Rick Steele novels.
Noble motive.
Doctor, looks like we got
a serial killer on our hands.
We do?
Yeah, you know, preying
on the literati.
And that's his calling card.
I like his style.
I'll tell you what...
While I'm here, why don't I
go out and check the perimeter,
see what you've missed.
I'd appreciate that.
Yeah. I think we have
a novel here.
I got first dibs, baby.
That is the most silly,
stupid, impulsive idea.
Well, it's an interesting
puzzle, all right.
Well, you don't
think Archie could
be right, do you?
About the serial killer?
I mean, the crime is identical.
Well, I admit it does look
a lot like Rothman's place,
but, somehow, it just
doesn't feel like the work
of a serial killer.
What does it feel like?
Confusing.
The same M.O.
as Horace Chilworth's murder.
A single upward thrust
with a letter opener
piercing the descending aorta,
causing rapid exsanguination
and death.
There is a difference...
and it is a significant one,
one I must not overlook...
This latest victim was stung...
before he was killed.
This is way too confusing.
Mark Sloan is confused.
I'm not.
Well, why aren't you?
I mean, we have two killers now.
Yeah, you offed Rothman,
but you didn't off
Abernathy.
I know. Isn't that great?
Yeah, I hate
when you get to this part
of a book.
You become positively
delusional.
I'm not delusional.
I'm excited. This thing finally
has a life of its own.
That's a good thing, too.
It was starting to get a little
straight-line in the plot.
It needed a few more twists.
Twists?
Come on. There's
nothing more boring
than dropping another body
in the opening
and following the sleuth around
for 300 pages
while he or she
interviews suspects
before rounding them
all up in the end
and dazzling them
with deductive reasoning.
I'm all for action.
Remember when you wrote
Preying Mantis
and I used a corpse's rib
as my Kendo stick?
Yeah, that was good.
I don't know who killed Sid
Abernathy or why, but this shows
that if you plan
a couple good "what ifs,"
the whole narrative
just lays itself out.
Oh, if you really believe that,
you would've had a manuscript
ready yesterday.
A dull one. This is
definitely not dull.
Well, you're right
about that at least.
Where do we go from here?
Where else?
Back to Mark Sloan.
Oh, I asked for coffee.
I know, but there will be none,
at least not until
the good stuff gets here.
Hey, I know these books.
That's the Dance
of Death series.
Rick Steele, super spy.
Fast with his fists,
faster on his feet.
Jesse has very low
literary standards.
Sid Abernathy happens
to be a great writer.
His constant reworking
of specific themes...
And scenes.
Makes him one of the most
complex contemporary
American writers.
I mean, look at Cha-Cha Choker's
brilliant use of metaphor.
And then there's
Lindy-Hop Lunatic,
all right?
In that one, Rick is chasing
after this serial killer
who preys on swing
dance competition.
Look at this right here.
Cha-cha Choker right on
the edge of Jim Rothman's desk.
That one was great.
In that one, Rick Steele
uses a, uh...
a dead guy's rib
as a Kendo stick
to battle the forces of evil.
Cha-Cha Choker is missing from
Abernathy's personal library.
You mean he took an
already published book
to his agent?
That doesn't make any sense.
Maybe not.
But the lab guys found something
in Abernathy's computer
that does... a blackmail note.
"The whole world will soon know
the lying thief you really are."
I guess ghostwriting
just doesn't pay enough.
Did you find
that chapter 12
from Blazer's book
that Abernathy was ghosting?
Mm-hmm. The, uh, hero,
who thinks he's
turning into a vampire,
gets on a plane for Albania
and reviews the
eerie events of the
past 11 chapters.
And if there's information
the killer wanted to hide,
he would have had to take
the entire manuscript.
At least that red
herring is dead.
I told you, you left too
many clues lying around.
You know, um,
this isn't working.
Why don't we just drop it?
Why when it's just getting
interesting?
They managed to trace the jars
the scorpions were in.
Wopak Greek olives.
There's only a couple
of stores in the L.A. area
that carry them,
so I'm going to check
the surveillance tapes
and see if any of Rothman's
clients are regulars.
You see that?
Just when you're
about to give up,
the perfect clue pops right up.
It wasn't plagiarism.
My subconscious merely
borrowed a few elements
from a book I barely
remember reading.
Preying Mantis is a lie?
My whole life is a lie!
A lie!
Yes, yes, I made you up.
Oh, don't you become
a realist on me now.
Oh, damn.
Wopak Greek olives.
You don't have the plotting
ability of a wombat.
Go away.
Hi.
Hi.
Uh, yeah, come in.
Nice setup you've got.
Everything you need, huh?
Tools of my trade.
Can't do without them.
Kinda like surveillance cameras
are the tools of my trade.
Kinda, I guess.
You take a nice
surveillance photo.
Especially the one
from Lindler's Market...
where they sell these.
Wopak olives.
Glad you left the scorpion home.
There was no scorpion.
I got this from
your recycle bin.
You were digging in my garbage?
It's always interesting.
Look, Lieutenant...
don't play cat
and mouse with me.
It won't work.
I didn't kill Jim Rothman.
Oh, we don't think you did.
You don't?
You didn't have motive.
I mean, he'd just
gotten you that big deal.
And you didn't have opportunity.
He called you before he was
killed, and from that point on,
you were with Dad and Amanda.
I know that.
But you were at the scene
of the Rothman murder.
You went over every
piece of evidence with us,
and it made you realize
it was a perfect opportunity
to kill your blackmailer.
What blackmailer?
Sid Abernathy.
Sid wasn't blackmailing me.
Even though you stole
from
Cha-Cha Choker?
Figured that out, did you?
Mmm.
When Jesse was telling us about
Rick Steele and the Kendo stick,
Dad remembered a similar
scene from
Preying Mantis.
Where Danielle
fights off the bad guys
with the corpse's rib.
You did plagiarize Abernathy.
Borrowed. Borrowed
unconsciously, just a tiny
part.
But I didn't kill him.
I'm not a copycat.
Then why were there olive jars
from your favorite brand
at both murder scenes?
I wish I could answer that.
So do I.
Since you can't,
I'm afraid I have to arrest
you for the murder
of Sid Abernathy.
I framed myself
for a murder I didn't commit
by committing the murder
I did commit.
And I can't convince them I
didn't commit the second murder
unless I admit
I committed the first one.
You know, I usually like it
when a character
starts taking
over the story,
but this is getting
a little out of control.
Oh, I think it's Dr. Sloan
who's gotten out of control,
and what about
all those red herrings
he's supposed to be swimming in?
Don't start with me.
At least you told the truth
about the blackmail.
Yeah. The truth
will set me free?
No... but it'll make
a great ending.
Oh, Amanda... thank you
for coming to get me.
I'm just glad I was
in the path lab
when you called.
I... I didn't
know how I was
going to get
home after I
posted bail.
You know how I hate taxis.
I can't believe
they're doing this to you.
I told Steve he was all wrong.
Well, he is.
I said, if Kay Ludlow
really wanted
to kill Sid Abernathy,
she would have thought
of something more...
Intelligent.
Nefarious.
Exactly.
And-and you're a mystery writer.
I mean, there's no way that you
would have been sloppy enough
to leave all those
obvious clues lying around.
Amanda, the, uh...
the real killer
is still out there.
And he might be getting
ready to kill another
one of Jim's clients.
Maybe even me.
Oh, Kay, no one's
going to kill you.
All we need to do is find out
who committed the first murder.
We do?
Absolutely...
and once that person
confesses to both murders,
well, you'll be free and clear.
Yeah. Right. Great.
Okay.
Okay.
Come on.
Let's go over
and talk to Mark about it.
We know you didn't kill Rothman,
and if you didn't
kill Abernathy...
I didn't.
Well, then, who did?
And where did he,
or she, get the olives?
You know, Steve didn't find
any more of Rothman's clients
on that surveillance tape.
Ah... real coffee.
This is from that designer
coffee shop down the street.
Good, huh?
And $1.75 a cup.
And worth every penny.
Why can't you just get
some brown crystals
and drown them in hot water
and leave my profit
margins alone?
Hey, didn't you kill
Sid Abernathy?
No, she didn't, Jess.
I knew he'd believe you.
You know, it's possible
that this was about
killing Sid Abernathy
and murdering Jim Rothman
was just to point us
towards Kay.
And since Rothman called Kay
just before he died...
She had an alibi
that the real killer
couldn't have known about.
So, who is our killer?
Why would I kill my coauthor?
Ghostwriter.
The real unknown author
of
Creeping Crawlers.
Read the acknowledgments.
He's mentioned prominently
in every one of my books.
Acknowledgments
aren't royalties.
And why would someone
as famous as you
go ahead and hire
a ghostwriter anyway?
Hmm...
writer's block.
Laziness.
Paranoia.
General lack of talent.
Or all of the above.
The truth is
Tuttle and
the Mummy
made me famous.
Once you've been a celebrity,
it's hard to go back
to being a nobody.
And being
a best-selling author
made you famous all over again.
Fame of a different kind,
but I'm certainly
not complaining.
Maybe Sid Abernathy got tired
of still being a nobody.
Not a chance.
The man had no ego.
But he loved money.
As long as he got paid,
he didn't mind being used.
And how much is being used
worth these days?
A lot. Fortunately,
I could afford it.
Maybe somebody else
decided they couldn't.
So, where are we going now?
Dad's found something
at Abernathy's house.
Do people really
read this stuff?
Only people with bad taste.
Which explains Jesse's
infatuation with them.
You said you found something?
Yeah. You know, Abernathy's got
quite a collection of books.
Oh, well, most authors
have big collections.
It's sort of an addiction.
None of Abernathy's
books are organized
except on this one shelf.
Hmm.
These are alphabetized
by author.
And that's not all.
This is everything
any one of these authors
ever wrote,
including Bruce Blazer.
Exactly. All
of these books
are books that Sid
Abernathy ghostwrote.
Then why are retired
sergeant Archie
Mullen's books here?
Probably because all
he ever knew about the street
was how to find one on a map.
I think you better
have a talk with him.
Calling in reinforcements?
Shut up.
Archie... this
is a friend.
Yes, darling.
You know the cops are onto you.
They know you killed
your ghostwriter.
Mm-hmm.
They're on their way.
If I were you, I would run.
Run! Run!
Run!
You know what they do
to cops in jail.
Bye-bye.
You're warning your suspect?
No. I do hate to manipulate
the plot like that.
But...
I recall you giving an interview
to one of those unbearably
pretentious literary periodicals
and you prided yourself
on letting your characters...
Namely me...
Tell the story.
Well, it does feel
a little ham-fisted.
Unless you're becoming
one of those terribly plot-heavy
hack writers
you profess to hate.
Like... Sid Abernathy?
Well, let's face it...
He couldn't have been
all that bad.
You did steal
a book from the man.
It was a plot point.
It wasn't stealing.
It was an homage.
I thought you called it
"unconscious borrowing."
Look, Danielle,
this is the only solution, okay?
If Archie Mullen runs away,
they'll blame
both murders on him
and they'll forget about me
and about Jim Rothman,
and I can finally type
"the end" on this nightmare
and I can even make sure
that Archie doesn't write a book
about it before I do.
Okay? Are
we ready?
Thank you very much.
I did some more checking
on our way over.
Turns out Mullen
was
on one of those
grocery store
surveillance tapes.
Oh, don't tell me
you missed one.
No. One of the clerks
took it home
to record a couple of South Pa
Yeah, but lucky he didn't tape
over everything.
See, in real life,
not everything comes easy.
No.
At least you were able
to locate that pet store
where Mullen
bought that
scorpion.
Oh, no...
people use scorpions as pets?
Yeah.
No wonder Mullen
used a ghostwriter.
He's not very good
at hiding his setups.
Get out of here, Sloan!
You're just making
this worse, Archie!
You know what it's like
for a cop in prison, Sloan?!
Now, get out of here!
I'm calling for backup, Archie!
You know what happens
if you don't give it up now.
Yeah! This!
Drop it, Archie!
Amanda!
I'll call it in.
You all right?
In fact, I'm perfect.
Doesn't make sense.
Archie Mullen wasn't the gung-ho
self-sacrificing type.
No. He said he was
afraid of prison.
Not enough to keep him
from killing Rothman
and Abernathy.
No. Blackmail
can make you stupid.
At least it makes
my characters stupid.
Looks like it had the same
effect on Mullen, too.
Same note we found
on Abernathy's computer.
I wonder how
many people he was
going to blackmail.
He certainly picked the
wrong person to start with.
I guess Archie did
exactly what we thought he did.
Killed Rothman to set up Kay
for both murders.
And when Kay was released
and he saw that his plan
was going to fail...
He decided to depart in a poorly
thought-out blaze of glory.
Well, it's never a good idea
to kill off your protagonist.
No, it definitely isn't.
It is nice to close
both cases at once.
Hmm.
Kay, how are you
with all of this?
I mean, now that it's over
and you have to get
a new agent...
Oh... I'm okay.
In fact, maybe we could talk
about that maggot
stuff after all.
For my next book.
And there will be a next book.
Don't worry.
Oh, I'm not worried.
Hmm.
Well, you don't look happy.
I don't like these
kind of surprises.
Always makes me think
I missed something.
I know.
It's like when I write
and it turns up short.
I'm sure that I've missed
a big chunk of the story.
And have you?
Well, sometimes.
But usually it means
that the story was too simple
to begin with
and that the solution
was too easy to find.
So, I just put it in a drawer
and start something new.
Well, maybe we ought
to put this in a drawer.
Yeah.
Want some?
We're back
in the coffee business?
Yeah. Steve and
I compromised.
I get the Costa Rican beans,
but then we have to,
uh, cut it with
the canned stuff.
Sounds fair.
I thought the
Abernathy-Rothman
case was closed
now that Mullen is dead.
Well, it is, supposedly.
We've got coasters now?
Oh, yeah.
Do you know what it
does to public morale
to see water rings everywhere?
You know something, Jesse?
Mullen's dead.
I think the killer's
still out there,
and I know just
what to do about it.
Put that on my tab.
I told you Mark Sloan
would get me my plot
and miss the truth besides.
You got lucky.
I got enough material
for a dozen books.
There's the self-sacrificing
cop story.
The blackmail scheme story.
The missing author story...
Kay Ludlow.
I know what you did.
Did?
His spirit will walk
until it's avenged.
What are you talking about?
And I will be
the instrument
of that vengeance!
What vengeance?
Archie Mullen may be dead
by another's hand,
but the fault lies with you.
Oh, come on, Bruce.
As to the deaths of Jim Rothman
and Sid Abernathy...
You know, you really should
stop watching your old reruns.
You're not Harry Tuttle.
I have proof.
What?
And so will the police.
Very soon.
And then...
the restless can rest.
Bruce, wait a minute.
I didn't kill Sid Abernathy.
I can't believe
I have to drop another body.
But it's an excellent
final chapter twist.
Besides, it'll fix that lame
ending you've got right now.
Since when did you get
so pragmatic?
Oh, God.
I don't want to know.
Hello!
We did the same thing
in episode 39.
You should've been watching
my old reruns.
I thought you were
going to put it
in the drawer.
Well, I tell you,
I'm never satisfied
when it gets that easy.
I'm the same way.
So how did you know?
Well, you write
detective stories.
What's missing in this scene
compared to Jim Rothman's
office?
The upside-down books...
Different titles?
Nice guess.
But wrong.
Hmm.
Um... the rifled
manuscript.
Uh, chapter 12
is missing, I assume,
but irrelevant.
Right.
Well, let's
see here. Uh...
well, there's the damn scorpion
and coffee cups...
No coasters.
No coasters.
When you were at Barbecue Bob's,
you always found yourself
a coaster
to put under your coffee cup.
And you did the same thing
in Jim Rothman's office.
But Abernathy's house,
there were no coasters at all.
And Archie Mullen...
kitchen table was
covered with water rings.
Oh, the man never used
a coaster in his life.
Obviously,
it wouldn't occur to him
to use one in Jim Rothman's
office either.
Hmm... you know,
this could add
a whole new layer of
psychological motivation
to my killer.
I could blame his murderous bent
on an obsessively,
compulsively neat mother.
Mm-hmm.
Well, I did have an alibi
for the time of Jim's murder.
Yes, you did, and it was
a neat piece of plotting, too.
Instead of making us believe
that you were
nowhere near Rothman
when he was killed,
you made us believe
that he was alive
when he was actually
already dead. I like that.
Thank you.
You're welcome.
Hmm. Well, simple
is usually best.
Mm-hmm.
That's what Mummy
always told me.
Brilliant powers of deduction
behind that body wrap.
Hmm. But obviously,
there was a mistake.
Mm-hmm. Rothman asked
why you weren't there.
Now, that's something you'd say
to an answering machine,
not to a bad connection
on a cell phone.
Hmm... I don't know.
That's kind of weak
on the physical evidence.
But terrific on the behavioral.
You should've modeled me
after him.
I still didn't kill
Sid Abernathy.
It really was Archie Mullen.
We know.
Please...
apologize to Amanda for me.
I guess I'm not as good
as either one of us
would like me to be.
But I was telling the truth.
There will be another book.
Why did you kill Jim Rothman
in the first place?
Was he trying to cheat you?
No.
Nothing that defensible.
Writer's block.
You have no idea.
They named a drink after you,
you know.
Mm.
Mmm...
Great kiss.
Too bad that's all
we've got time for.
Great plan, Chilworth.
And almost a perfect murder.
Two perfect murders.
The false clues,
the apparent copycat killing.
All to cover the fact that
you plagiarized your last book.
Hello, Lieutenant?
Yes, I have the real
literary agent killer.
"The end."
Brilliant.
Really brilliant.
Mmm.
I still didn't get to sleep
with the very attractive
Horace Chilworth.
Wait till I write
the prison break-out story.
You're going to love it.
Yes!
36.
Very attractive.
Research scientist.
On external examination,
I've discovered a single
medial-lateral incision
which has been re-sewn
for purposes I just don't
understand at this time.
In any event,
multiple stab wounds.
The angle of entry
and depth of the blows
indicate a clockwise pattern
of attack which matches exactly
to victim Gwendolyn Benedict,
who was pulled from
Ballona Creek last Friday.
Dr. Danielle Slade?
Yes, I'm Dr. Slade.
We're here to take
Dr. Chilworth off your hands.
Just like that?
We do have authorization.
Thank you.
Well, I don't recognize
the signature on this document,
so the body will just have
to stay with me.
Dr. Chilworth's body
has to be turned over to people
who are better equipped
to deal with it.
Well, I can deal with
the body just fine.
Now, if you gentlemen
will excuse me.
Great! This is
the best opening
that you've ever written.
I'm not just saying that
'cause I'm your agent.
Thanks for the compliment,
but I...
I man, another 350 pages
like this, and, uh...
you've got your fifth
best seller on your hands.
Not even, um, Sue Grafton
started this fast.
Well, I'm-I'm glad
you're so optimistic.
So...!
Where's the rest of it?
Jim, there's...
there's a little problem.
That's all.
All what?
All the pages I've written.
I haven't got any more.
The publisher expects
350 pages by Friday.
I have writer's block.
You don't have time
for writer's block.
If you don't meet this deadline,
they'll cancel your contract,
and then you'll
have to give back
the $25 million advance.
That's it, you see, the money...
It's so intimidating.
Oh...!
Forgive me for being
such a great agent
and turning you into the
next Mary Higgins Clark.
I want my $2.5 mill!
Please don't, don't yell at me.
I'm having a hard enough
time the way it is.
You don't know hard.
If you blow this, I'll
make sure that you
never sell another
book anywhere.
Oh... um...
you wouldn't have
any ideas, would you?
Any ideas, would I?
For all I care,
you could kill some poor slob,
follow the police around
and see how they solve it.
You just get me those
350 pages by Friday.
Okay.
Thanks.
That's a much better opening.
Not only was the victim
not killed
in the woods,
but his body was kept
in a freezer for six months.
Now, if it weren't for
the forensic entomologist
who was able to calculate
the amount of maggots
in his chest cavity,
we might never have known.
That's disgusting.
Oh, but bugs are
very hot right now,
and I'm just trying to do my job
as your technical advisor.
I know, and I couldn't write
the Danielle Slade
novels without you.
You know what I liked?
The cobra bite
in your first book.
You read Deadly Darkness?
Yeah. I have to admit,
I only picked it up
because Amanda was so giddy
about having her name in print.
I'm never giddy.
Oh, four thank-you notes
and flowers for a week
might be considered giddy.
Deadly Darkness was
a lot of fun to read.
As a matter of fact,
I picked up
your other three books, too.
I can't figure out where you
get all those great ideas.
Mmm... oh, pretty much
the way you do things,
I suspect.
I visualize the murder,
the killer, the motives,
and then I use the great
physical evidence
that Amanda always gives me.
I think physical evidence
is very important,
but it's no more important
than behavioral evidence.
Oh, you're right.
In fact, sometimes
behavioral is more important.
The real final clue.
The perfect solution to
what would otherwise
be considered
the unsolvable,
and when you find it,
you know exactly
where you're going
and when you're
going to get there...
the moment of perfect
synchronicity.
Not that it's easy
to find. No way.
And even when you do find it,
making the physical
and the behavioral
work together is a bitch.
I think I'm going
to the ladies' room.
She's between books.
Oh.
It's Kay's purse.
Oh.
Well...
You can't go in there.
Well, it might be important.
Hello?
Hello? Kay? You there?
Uh, Kay isn't here right now.
Who is this?
It's Jim.
Why aren't you there?
Call me.
Hello?
Kay isn't here right...
Hmm.
Static.
Dr. Sloan,
if you really needed
to make a phone call,
I could have loaned you
a quarter.
Actually,
your purse was ringing.
Oh.
I'm afraid it was
a bad connection.
It sounded like somebody...
uh, Jim somebody?
Jim Rothman, my agent.
He was being paranoid.
He got me
this huge three-book deal,
and I have to turn the
first manuscript in Friday.
I'm holding on to it
just to torture him.
Maybe you ought
to call him back.
Oh, not until after
we have lunch.
He won't stop being twitchy
until the check clears.
I should have been a call girl.
It's a lot easier way
to make a living.
It's her process.
This place smells great.
And you really own it?
Yep. Me and my son and
that blurry-eyed young man
in the scrubs over there.
Let me go take care
of this. Excuse me.
Busy, huh?
No kidding.
A 12-hour shift,
three nurses out sick,
we had a bus crash
and an outbreak of chicken pox
at a computer conference.
And now this.
What is this?
It smells like coffee.
So does that stuff
at the hospital,
and we all know
what that tastes like.
This is my restaurant.
I ordered Costa Rican.
Where is it?
Steve. He canceled my beans.
How could he cancel my beans?
I-I mean, I let him have these
plastic little ketchup bottles,
and... I want my coffee.
There's been a homicide.
Kay, I'm sorry.
We need you
to identify the body.
That's Jim, all right.
You all right?
No, not exactly.
I mean, that's...
that's my agent with a...
whatever stuck in his chest.
It's a letter opener,
and then there's this.
What's this?
A scorpion.
Ooh. Well,
message from
the killer, I'd imagine.
I have no idea what it means.
Well, it doesn't
make sense. Not at all.
Well, it will.
I hope so. I really do.
Look, this isn't a field trip
for pencil-pushing civilians.
You're a civilian, too,
and you're also a pencil pusher.
Damn right, and one of
Jim Rothman's best clients.
But once a cop, always a cop.
Retired Sergeant Mullen
was meeting Rothman for lunch.
He found the body...
And I immediately secured
the crime scene
as I've done
so many times before.
Right, from the front seat
of the chief's car.
You were a driver,
not a detective.
Baby, I saw more on the streets
when I was with the chief
than any detective
could see in a lifetime.
That's what gives my books
the stink of realism.
Yeah, well, you've got
the stink part right.
Steve, look at this...
The two coffee cups.
One of them could
be the killer's.
Nope. Coffee's too cold.
Timing's all wrong.
Let's dust these for prints.
Look at this.
Page 102 to page 130.
Huh. Chapter 12 is missing.
Oh, you noticed that, too.
Glad to see you're keeping up.
I'll have it checked.
Now, that's odd.
Hmm, three books upside down.
Uh-huh.
Well, Sloan, looks like
you got a tough one here.
You know, there aren't
that many clues,
but if there's anything else
I can do to help,
you know where to find me.
And he wonders why no one
gave him a retirement present.
Who could have done this?
Don't worry.
We'll figure it out.
Mark.
Thanks.
Take a look at this.
Let's see what clues
were left behind.
Well, for one,
there was the letter opener
left in literary agent
Horace Chilworth's chest.
Somehow appropriate,
yet... ordinary.
Then there were
the three mundane textbooks
all turned upside down...
Greener Grass in Six Days,
Kickboxing with Dickie Kimber
and
Lo-Cal Desserts for Two.
Ordinary.
Then we had... oh, yes.
The scorpion in the jar.
Definitely not ordinary.
And the rifled manuscript.
Could this be the deed
of some disgruntled writer
who was angered
by Chilworth's cool response
to his or her work,
and if so, why steal...
the 12th chapter of
his or her own manuscript?
Brilliant.
Brilliant only if you
can figure it out.
I think you left
too many clues hanging around.
There was the rifled manuscript,
the three upside-down books
and that damn scorpion.
What on earth
were you thinking about?
I don't know.
I just thought it would be
interesting on the jacket copy.
You're not playing fair
with your readers.
You cannot plant clues
not knowing where they lead.
No, that's the problem.
I don't know where
anything leads anymore.
Then how are you going
to work us through this one?
I'm not.
Mark Sloan will do it for me.
That's very creative.
Amanda Bentley's always saying
how brilliant he is.
Why not use him?
Oh!
Especially now that I'm stuck
with a dead Horace Chilworth
and no idea who killed him.
And Mark Sloan won't figure out
that you're the one who killed
Jim Rothman, right?
No way.
I left so many clues,
he'll be swimming
in a school of red herring.
Well, I'll use his deductions,
uh, for our basic plot points,
and then we'll fill in
the interesting parts
and I can make alterations
when it becomes mundane
or simplistic.
Not bad.
Hello?
Oh... um...
well, of course, Dr. Sloan.
I-I-I don't know what I can do,
but I'll certainly try.
Jim meant a lot to me.
The three upside-down books
were all written by clients
that Mr. Rothman dropped
earlier this past year.
Now, Steve figured that out
when he looked
at Rothman's records.
Well, Steve checked
their alibis.
One of them's dead,
and two of them don't even
live in L.A. anymore,
so if there's a message there,
I don't see what it is.
Well, we can't be
stumped already.
I mean, you said
yourself that there was
a chapter missing
out of that manuscript
and perhaps the killer
took it with him.
Especially if the chapter
included something damaging.
Well, I don't think that's it.
I mean, it was written
by that actor, Bruce Blazer.
He doesn't have any secrets.
Everybody has secrets.
Not Bruce.
And even if he did,
he'd use them
to get himself a cover story
in the
National Enquirer.
How can you talk about
the star of Tuttle
and the Mummy
like that?
Tuttle and the Mummy?
You know him?
Sure. Harry Tuttle
and his partner, the Mummy,
were supernatural crime fighters
on a '60s TV show.
They rerun it on one of those
cable stations at 2:00 a.m.
Haven't you guys
ever had insomnia?
Not that bad.
Tuttle and the Mummy
was canceled in 1968
and became an instant cult hit.
Bruce has been living off
the persona ever since
and writing these disgustingly
effective occult thrillers
for the last ten years.
The man's a walking
money machine.
Then he wouldn't want
to kill Jim Rothman.
Unless he suspected that Jim
was trying to cheat him.
Loyalty wasn't exactly
in Jim Rothman's lexicon.
We'd better find out
what's in that missing chapter.
Then let's go.
I don't think so...
Because, uh, this is a
police investigation,
and am the polic.
But you're not a writer.
I know these people.
I know this world.
I could save you a lot of time.
Jim was my agent.
She's right.
She'd be a big help.
I don't know why I bother.
He never went anywhere
without that suit.
My partner, the Mummy!
Fighting evil whenever it
threatens the innocent.
That's, uh...
that's good.
Ted was, uh...
largely responsible
for the success
of
Tuttle and the Mummy.
The fans loved him.
And what happened to him?
He was clocked by a golf ball
on the 17th hole
at Pebble Beach.
Turned him into a vegetable.
That's when I started writing.
Doing personal
appearances
without him
just seemed all wrong.
"The demon roared
with indignation
"at the intrusion
into his dark sanctuary
by such virginal interlopers."
Creeping Crawlers.
The prose is a little...
purple, isn't it, Bruce?
Not the gritty realism
of Danielle Slade
conducting autopsies
in a halter top.
At least I can write.
Well, we didn't come
for a literary critique,
so, uh, if you could
just print us out a copy
of chapter 12 of your
latest manuscript.
I don't use
a computer... dyslexic.
Hmm.
That must make it hard.
Dreadfully.
Well, maybe you could just
tell us what was in it, then.
I, uh...
actually, I haven't
read that far.
It's your book.
All those stunts I did
on the show
did bad things
to my short-term memory.
Or maybe you didn't write it
in the first place.
You have a ghostwriter?
Sid always said
that writing is
ten percent inspiration,
90% perspiration.
I don't like to sweat.
Sid... Abernathy?
That no-talent drudge
is your ghostwriter?
My creative collaborator.
Well, don't be so shocked.
All writers need
a little help now and then.
Well, maybe we should
have a little talk
with your, uh... helper.
Why would anyone
want to be a ghostwriter anyway?
Nobody knows what
you've accomplished.
Money.
Besides, those books
would never sell
under Abernathy's name.
Well, how would he
know if he didn't try?
Oh, he did.
Remember that passage
I read from Bruce's book?
It was originally
in one of Abernathy's
own detective novels.
He not only steals from himself,
he steals the worst parts.
If he's so bad,
why do you read him?
Well, don't you keep up
with other detectives?
Not the same thing.
Oh, sure it is.
Caseloads, best-seller lists...
It's all competition.
Mr. Abernathy?
Hey, it's open.
Hey, Sergeant Mullen.
Oh, no.
They're right inside.
Go on in.
Is he not going to solve
this one for us, too?
Oh, how you doing, Sloan,
Bentley, Doctor?
Don't tell me...
You had an appointment
with Abernathy.
Nope. Police scanner.
You know, I got to keep up
with these radio calls.
Never know when I might
be able to lend a hand.
I don't know how we're going to
figure this one out
without you, Mr. Mullen.
Sid Abernathy. Ah, looks like
one of his disgruntled fans
decided to save the world
from more Rick Steele novels.
Noble motive.
Doctor, looks like we got
a serial killer on our hands.
We do?
Yeah, you know, preying
on the literati.
And that's his calling card.
I like his style.
I'll tell you what...
While I'm here, why don't I
go out and check the perimeter,
see what you've missed.
I'd appreciate that.
Yeah. I think we have
a novel here.
I got first dibs, baby.
That is the most silly,
stupid, impulsive idea.
Well, it's an interesting
puzzle, all right.
Well, you don't
think Archie could
be right, do you?
About the serial killer?
I mean, the crime is identical.
Well, I admit it does look
a lot like Rothman's place,
but, somehow, it just
doesn't feel like the work
of a serial killer.
What does it feel like?
Confusing.
The same M.O.
as Horace Chilworth's murder.
A single upward thrust
with a letter opener
piercing the descending aorta,
causing rapid exsanguination
and death.
There is a difference...
and it is a significant one,
one I must not overlook...
This latest victim was stung...
before he was killed.
This is way too confusing.
Mark Sloan is confused.
I'm not.
Well, why aren't you?
I mean, we have two killers now.
Yeah, you offed Rothman,
but you didn't off
Abernathy.
I know. Isn't that great?
Yeah, I hate
when you get to this part
of a book.
You become positively
delusional.
I'm not delusional.
I'm excited. This thing finally
has a life of its own.
That's a good thing, too.
It was starting to get a little
straight-line in the plot.
It needed a few more twists.
Twists?
Come on. There's
nothing more boring
than dropping another body
in the opening
and following the sleuth around
for 300 pages
while he or she
interviews suspects
before rounding them
all up in the end
and dazzling them
with deductive reasoning.
I'm all for action.
Remember when you wrote
Preying Mantis
and I used a corpse's rib
as my Kendo stick?
Yeah, that was good.
I don't know who killed Sid
Abernathy or why, but this shows
that if you plan
a couple good "what ifs,"
the whole narrative
just lays itself out.
Oh, if you really believe that,
you would've had a manuscript
ready yesterday.
A dull one. This is
definitely not dull.
Well, you're right
about that at least.
Where do we go from here?
Where else?
Back to Mark Sloan.
Oh, I asked for coffee.
I know, but there will be none,
at least not until
the good stuff gets here.
Hey, I know these books.
That's the Dance
of Death series.
Rick Steele, super spy.
Fast with his fists,
faster on his feet.
Jesse has very low
literary standards.
Sid Abernathy happens
to be a great writer.
His constant reworking
of specific themes...
And scenes.
Makes him one of the most
complex contemporary
American writers.
I mean, look at Cha-Cha Choker's
brilliant use of metaphor.
And then there's
Lindy-Hop Lunatic,
all right?
In that one, Rick is chasing
after this serial killer
who preys on swing
dance competition.
Look at this right here.
Cha-cha Choker right on
the edge of Jim Rothman's desk.
That one was great.
In that one, Rick Steele
uses a, uh...
a dead guy's rib
as a Kendo stick
to battle the forces of evil.
Cha-Cha Choker is missing from
Abernathy's personal library.
You mean he took an
already published book
to his agent?
That doesn't make any sense.
Maybe not.
But the lab guys found something
in Abernathy's computer
that does... a blackmail note.
"The whole world will soon know
the lying thief you really are."
I guess ghostwriting
just doesn't pay enough.
Did you find
that chapter 12
from Blazer's book
that Abernathy was ghosting?
Mm-hmm. The, uh, hero,
who thinks he's
turning into a vampire,
gets on a plane for Albania
and reviews the
eerie events of the
past 11 chapters.
And if there's information
the killer wanted to hide,
he would have had to take
the entire manuscript.
At least that red
herring is dead.
I told you, you left too
many clues lying around.
You know, um,
this isn't working.
Why don't we just drop it?
Why when it's just getting
interesting?
They managed to trace the jars
the scorpions were in.
Wopak Greek olives.
There's only a couple
of stores in the L.A. area
that carry them,
so I'm going to check
the surveillance tapes
and see if any of Rothman's
clients are regulars.
You see that?
Just when you're
about to give up,
the perfect clue pops right up.
It wasn't plagiarism.
My subconscious merely
borrowed a few elements
from a book I barely
remember reading.
Preying Mantis is a lie?
My whole life is a lie!
A lie!
Yes, yes, I made you up.
Oh, don't you become
a realist on me now.
Oh, damn.
Wopak Greek olives.
You don't have the plotting
ability of a wombat.
Go away.
Hi.
Hi.
Uh, yeah, come in.
Nice setup you've got.
Everything you need, huh?
Tools of my trade.
Can't do without them.
Kinda like surveillance cameras
are the tools of my trade.
Kinda, I guess.
You take a nice
surveillance photo.
Especially the one
from Lindler's Market...
where they sell these.
Wopak olives.
Glad you left the scorpion home.
There was no scorpion.
I got this from
your recycle bin.
You were digging in my garbage?
It's always interesting.
Look, Lieutenant...
don't play cat
and mouse with me.
It won't work.
I didn't kill Jim Rothman.
Oh, we don't think you did.
You don't?
You didn't have motive.
I mean, he'd just
gotten you that big deal.
And you didn't have opportunity.
He called you before he was
killed, and from that point on,
you were with Dad and Amanda.
I know that.
But you were at the scene
of the Rothman murder.
You went over every
piece of evidence with us,
and it made you realize
it was a perfect opportunity
to kill your blackmailer.
What blackmailer?
Sid Abernathy.
Sid wasn't blackmailing me.
Even though you stole
from
Cha-Cha Choker?
Figured that out, did you?
Mmm.
When Jesse was telling us about
Rick Steele and the Kendo stick,
Dad remembered a similar
scene from
Preying Mantis.
Where Danielle
fights off the bad guys
with the corpse's rib.
You did plagiarize Abernathy.
Borrowed. Borrowed
unconsciously, just a tiny
part.
But I didn't kill him.
I'm not a copycat.
Then why were there olive jars
from your favorite brand
at both murder scenes?
I wish I could answer that.
So do I.
Since you can't,
I'm afraid I have to arrest
you for the murder
of Sid Abernathy.
I framed myself
for a murder I didn't commit
by committing the murder
I did commit.
And I can't convince them I
didn't commit the second murder
unless I admit
I committed the first one.
You know, I usually like it
when a character
starts taking
over the story,
but this is getting
a little out of control.
Oh, I think it's Dr. Sloan
who's gotten out of control,
and what about
all those red herrings
he's supposed to be swimming in?
Don't start with me.
At least you told the truth
about the blackmail.
Yeah. The truth
will set me free?
No... but it'll make
a great ending.
Oh, Amanda... thank you
for coming to get me.
I'm just glad I was
in the path lab
when you called.
I... I didn't
know how I was
going to get
home after I
posted bail.
You know how I hate taxis.
I can't believe
they're doing this to you.
I told Steve he was all wrong.
Well, he is.
I said, if Kay Ludlow
really wanted
to kill Sid Abernathy,
she would have thought
of something more...
Intelligent.
Nefarious.
Exactly.
And-and you're a mystery writer.
I mean, there's no way that you
would have been sloppy enough
to leave all those
obvious clues lying around.
Amanda, the, uh...
the real killer
is still out there.
And he might be getting
ready to kill another
one of Jim's clients.
Maybe even me.
Oh, Kay, no one's
going to kill you.
All we need to do is find out
who committed the first murder.
We do?
Absolutely...
and once that person
confesses to both murders,
well, you'll be free and clear.
Yeah. Right. Great.
Okay.
Okay.
Come on.
Let's go over
and talk to Mark about it.
We know you didn't kill Rothman,
and if you didn't
kill Abernathy...
I didn't.
Well, then, who did?
And where did he,
or she, get the olives?
You know, Steve didn't find
any more of Rothman's clients
on that surveillance tape.
Ah... real coffee.
This is from that designer
coffee shop down the street.
Good, huh?
And $1.75 a cup.
And worth every penny.
Why can't you just get
some brown crystals
and drown them in hot water
and leave my profit
margins alone?
Hey, didn't you kill
Sid Abernathy?
No, she didn't, Jess.
I knew he'd believe you.
You know, it's possible
that this was about
killing Sid Abernathy
and murdering Jim Rothman
was just to point us
towards Kay.
And since Rothman called Kay
just before he died...
She had an alibi
that the real killer
couldn't have known about.
So, who is our killer?
Why would I kill my coauthor?
Ghostwriter.
The real unknown author
of
Creeping Crawlers.
Read the acknowledgments.
He's mentioned prominently
in every one of my books.
Acknowledgments
aren't royalties.
And why would someone
as famous as you
go ahead and hire
a ghostwriter anyway?
Hmm...
writer's block.
Laziness.
Paranoia.
General lack of talent.
Or all of the above.
The truth is
Tuttle and
the Mummy
made me famous.
Once you've been a celebrity,
it's hard to go back
to being a nobody.
And being
a best-selling author
made you famous all over again.
Fame of a different kind,
but I'm certainly
not complaining.
Maybe Sid Abernathy got tired
of still being a nobody.
Not a chance.
The man had no ego.
But he loved money.
As long as he got paid,
he didn't mind being used.
And how much is being used
worth these days?
A lot. Fortunately,
I could afford it.
Maybe somebody else
decided they couldn't.
So, where are we going now?
Dad's found something
at Abernathy's house.
Do people really
read this stuff?
Only people with bad taste.
Which explains Jesse's
infatuation with them.
You said you found something?
Yeah. You know, Abernathy's got
quite a collection of books.
Oh, well, most authors
have big collections.
It's sort of an addiction.
None of Abernathy's
books are organized
except on this one shelf.
Hmm.
These are alphabetized
by author.
And that's not all.
This is everything
any one of these authors
ever wrote,
including Bruce Blazer.
Exactly. All
of these books
are books that Sid
Abernathy ghostwrote.
Then why are retired
sergeant Archie
Mullen's books here?
Probably because all
he ever knew about the street
was how to find one on a map.
I think you better
have a talk with him.
Calling in reinforcements?
Shut up.
Archie... this
is a friend.
Yes, darling.
You know the cops are onto you.
They know you killed
your ghostwriter.
Mm-hmm.
They're on their way.
If I were you, I would run.
Run! Run!
Run!
You know what they do
to cops in jail.
Bye-bye.
You're warning your suspect?
No. I do hate to manipulate
the plot like that.
But...
I recall you giving an interview
to one of those unbearably
pretentious literary periodicals
and you prided yourself
on letting your characters...
Namely me...
Tell the story.
Well, it does feel
a little ham-fisted.
Unless you're becoming
one of those terribly plot-heavy
hack writers
you profess to hate.
Like... Sid Abernathy?
Well, let's face it...
He couldn't have been
all that bad.
You did steal
a book from the man.
It was a plot point.
It wasn't stealing.
It was an homage.
I thought you called it
"unconscious borrowing."
Look, Danielle,
this is the only solution, okay?
If Archie Mullen runs away,
they'll blame
both murders on him
and they'll forget about me
and about Jim Rothman,
and I can finally type
"the end" on this nightmare
and I can even make sure
that Archie doesn't write a book
about it before I do.
Okay? Are
we ready?
Thank you very much.
I did some more checking
on our way over.
Turns out Mullen
was
on one of those
grocery store
surveillance tapes.
Oh, don't tell me
you missed one.
No. One of the clerks
took it home
to record a couple of South Pa
Yeah, but lucky he didn't tape
over everything.
See, in real life,
not everything comes easy.
No.
At least you were able
to locate that pet store
where Mullen
bought that
scorpion.
Oh, no...
people use scorpions as pets?
Yeah.
No wonder Mullen
used a ghostwriter.
He's not very good
at hiding his setups.
Get out of here, Sloan!
You're just making
this worse, Archie!
You know what it's like
for a cop in prison, Sloan?!
Now, get out of here!
I'm calling for backup, Archie!
You know what happens
if you don't give it up now.
Yeah! This!
Drop it, Archie!
Amanda!
I'll call it in.
You all right?
In fact, I'm perfect.
Doesn't make sense.
Archie Mullen wasn't the gung-ho
self-sacrificing type.
No. He said he was
afraid of prison.
Not enough to keep him
from killing Rothman
and Abernathy.
No. Blackmail
can make you stupid.
At least it makes
my characters stupid.
Looks like it had the same
effect on Mullen, too.
Same note we found
on Abernathy's computer.
I wonder how
many people he was
going to blackmail.
He certainly picked the
wrong person to start with.
I guess Archie did
exactly what we thought he did.
Killed Rothman to set up Kay
for both murders.
And when Kay was released
and he saw that his plan
was going to fail...
He decided to depart in a poorly
thought-out blaze of glory.
Well, it's never a good idea
to kill off your protagonist.
No, it definitely isn't.
It is nice to close
both cases at once.
Hmm.
Kay, how are you
with all of this?
I mean, now that it's over
and you have to get
a new agent...
Oh... I'm okay.
In fact, maybe we could talk
about that maggot
stuff after all.
For my next book.
And there will be a next book.
Don't worry.
Oh, I'm not worried.
Hmm.
Well, you don't look happy.
I don't like these
kind of surprises.
Always makes me think
I missed something.
I know.
It's like when I write
and it turns up short.
I'm sure that I've missed
a big chunk of the story.
And have you?
Well, sometimes.
But usually it means
that the story was too simple
to begin with
and that the solution
was too easy to find.
So, I just put it in a drawer
and start something new.
Well, maybe we ought
to put this in a drawer.
Yeah.
Want some?
We're back
in the coffee business?
Yeah. Steve and
I compromised.
I get the Costa Rican beans,
but then we have to,
uh, cut it with
the canned stuff.
Sounds fair.
I thought the
Abernathy-Rothman
case was closed
now that Mullen is dead.
Well, it is, supposedly.
We've got coasters now?
Oh, yeah.
Do you know what it
does to public morale
to see water rings everywhere?
You know something, Jesse?
Mullen's dead.
I think the killer's
still out there,
and I know just
what to do about it.
Put that on my tab.
I told you Mark Sloan
would get me my plot
and miss the truth besides.
You got lucky.
I got enough material
for a dozen books.
There's the self-sacrificing
cop story.
The blackmail scheme story.
The missing author story...
Kay Ludlow.
I know what you did.
Did?
His spirit will walk
until it's avenged.
What are you talking about?
And I will be
the instrument
of that vengeance!
What vengeance?
Archie Mullen may be dead
by another's hand,
but the fault lies with you.
Oh, come on, Bruce.
As to the deaths of Jim Rothman
and Sid Abernathy...
You know, you really should
stop watching your old reruns.
You're not Harry Tuttle.
I have proof.
What?
And so will the police.
Very soon.
And then...
the restless can rest.
Bruce, wait a minute.
I didn't kill Sid Abernathy.
I can't believe
I have to drop another body.
But it's an excellent
final chapter twist.
Besides, it'll fix that lame
ending you've got right now.
Since when did you get
so pragmatic?
Oh, God.
I don't want to know.
Hello!
We did the same thing
in episode 39.
You should've been watching
my old reruns.
I thought you were
going to put it
in the drawer.
Well, I tell you,
I'm never satisfied
when it gets that easy.
I'm the same way.
So how did you know?
Well, you write
detective stories.
What's missing in this scene
compared to Jim Rothman's
office?
The upside-down books...
Different titles?
Nice guess.
But wrong.
Hmm.
Um... the rifled
manuscript.
Uh, chapter 12
is missing, I assume,
but irrelevant.
Right.
Well, let's
see here. Uh...
well, there's the damn scorpion
and coffee cups...
No coasters.
No coasters.
When you were at Barbecue Bob's,
you always found yourself
a coaster
to put under your coffee cup.
And you did the same thing
in Jim Rothman's office.
But Abernathy's house,
there were no coasters at all.
And Archie Mullen...
kitchen table was
covered with water rings.
Oh, the man never used
a coaster in his life.
Obviously,
it wouldn't occur to him
to use one in Jim Rothman's
office either.
Hmm... you know,
this could add
a whole new layer of
psychological motivation
to my killer.
I could blame his murderous bent
on an obsessively,
compulsively neat mother.
Mm-hmm.
Well, I did have an alibi
for the time of Jim's murder.
Yes, you did, and it was
a neat piece of plotting, too.
Instead of making us believe
that you were
nowhere near Rothman
when he was killed,
you made us believe
that he was alive
when he was actually
already dead. I like that.
Thank you.
You're welcome.
Hmm. Well, simple
is usually best.
Mm-hmm.
That's what Mummy
always told me.
Brilliant powers of deduction
behind that body wrap.
Hmm. But obviously,
there was a mistake.
Mm-hmm. Rothman asked
why you weren't there.
Now, that's something you'd say
to an answering machine,
not to a bad connection
on a cell phone.
Hmm... I don't know.
That's kind of weak
on the physical evidence.
But terrific on the behavioral.
You should've modeled me
after him.
I still didn't kill
Sid Abernathy.
It really was Archie Mullen.
We know.
Please...
apologize to Amanda for me.
I guess I'm not as good
as either one of us
would like me to be.
But I was telling the truth.
There will be another book.
Why did you kill Jim Rothman
in the first place?
Was he trying to cheat you?
No.
Nothing that defensible.
Writer's block.
You have no idea.
They named a drink after you,
you know.
Mm.
Mmm...
Great kiss.
Too bad that's all
we've got time for.
Great plan, Chilworth.
And almost a perfect murder.
Two perfect murders.
The false clues,
the apparent copycat killing.
All to cover the fact that
you plagiarized your last book.
Hello, Lieutenant?
Yes, I have the real
literary agent killer.
"The end."
Brilliant.
Really brilliant.
Mmm.
I still didn't get to sleep
with the very attractive
Horace Chilworth.
Wait till I write
the prison break-out story.
You're going to love it.
Yes!