Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 10, Episode 10 - Murder in White - full transcript

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

You know, this old place must be haunted
with the spirits of old actors and...

This has gotta be the Jessica
I've heard so much about.

I have never
collaborated, Glenda,

and I don't intend to start now.

Let's be quite clear
about something.

I don't write plays,
Miss Shaughnessy.

At any cost, I'm going
to protect Glenda.

For goodness sakes,
stay out of this, Lawson.

And I'm not going to
let anybody hurt you.

Could be it's all an act.



I think these will do the job.

The murder weapon
was wiped almost clean,

except for your
prints, Mrs. Fletcher.

And don't forget what
trouble I can make for you.

God! You're repulsive!

If I may be permitted
an opinion...

You're not, Mr. Harrington. Barbara,
like it or not, the Inspector said...

Glenda, this is bloody
unconscionable.

You can't just walk out of
rehearsal on the second day.

I'm bloody well
doing it, Martin.

We have a contract.

The contract stipulates that
I have all creative approvals.

I approved a very clever
novel by Jessica Fletcher,

which during its
adaptation for the stage play



developed major problems.

I don't know how my fingerprints
got on the murder weapon.

Mae, I'm sorry. I can't think of
a more tactful way of putting it.

Oh, please, Glenda.

Darling, I know you're hurt,

but the truth is, you've lost
touch with the heart of the story.

Perhaps, it's because you've
never done a mystery before.

Glenda, you know we
can't open without you.

Just tell me what to do
and I'll do it. Won't we, Mae?

I'm not doing another
thing until Jessica gets here.

Jessica?

I have never
collaborated, Glenda,

and I don't intend to start now.

Won't you at least meet her?

I know Jessica. She
respects your talent.

The woman can write.

I'll talk to her.

Well, Glenda, looks like
we're on the right track.

Jessica will be at the Hyde
Park Hotel in 50 minutes.

Don't fret. I've got
somebody meeting her.

And I challenge you to come up with
the proof and the ambiguous conjecture

I am hearing now.

It's going fairly well, but, Sally,
I want you already at the couch

and sitting on Glenda's
line, if we ever have Glenda.

Peter.

Give them an early lunch break.

A break? What's going on?

We couldn't help hearing.
Is there something...

Leading lady's playing
all her aces, that's all.

If it's about the rewrite you had
Mae do last night, it's not working.

Well, it's your job to
make it work. Okay?

By the way, I've been watching
Franklin. He's god-awful.

Gonna have to replace him.

Martin, I don't agree.

That's because
he was your choice.

That's it for now. We'll
pick it up after lunch.

Crew dismissed! Save the lights!

What is wrong with Glenda?

Damn it, Lawson.

Be thankful you've got some
time to go over your lines.

And try not to drink your lunch.

Oh! Oh! Oh!

Come on, kids,
buy me a lemonade.

Cheers.

Sally. Hmm?

Don't let it get to you.

Thanks, Oliver.

It's almost summery
out on the street.

You could hang
meat in this place.

Can't you afford any heat?

Theater makes its
own temperature.

Tell me something I
don't already know.

Well, at some time or other, there
was definitely something going on

between Glenda Highsmith and
the seventeenth Earl of Glenhaven.

Strange thing is, I ran into an old
acquaintance of mine the other day.

Another private investigator.

Seems the Earl's family
got him looking into

Miss Highsmith's
private affairs, too.

Any help?

No, he knows less than I do.

Which is nothing?

What do you expect in
two and a half weeks?

Besides, there is still a
small matter of 300 pounds.

I told you you'll get it.

Yes. Be quite sure
that I do, Kramer.

Better that than a visit from some
of my friends on the seamier side

of this fair city.

They could make life
very painful for you.

Very painful.

Listen, Brooker, there's
one more to add to your list.

J.B. Fletcher. An American. She'll
be at the Hyde Park around 12:30.

She and Glenda were
friends when they were kids.

How nice.

Thank you very much. Thank you.

Pardon me.

Hello, Jessica. Nice
flight and all that?

Martin. I'm sorry
to launch myself

unannounced on you like
this, but I wanted a chance

to set a few things straight.

I think that Glenda
plans to do just that.

She must have told
you that I was in London?

And I couldn't be happier. I
bought your book, didn't I?

Outbid the world for it, too, and got
Mae Shaughnessy for the adaptation.

Mistake number one,
but who's to know?

Look, Glenda trusts you, right?

And... Well, you can do a lot
to pull this whole deal together.

But don't make too
many waves, okay?

"Waves"?

One more individual living
at the top of her emotions

could push this whole
deal over the edge.

Well, I'm here to help Glenda and I
hope that I shall be able to help you

and the project.

Now, if you don't mind,
Edward is waiting for me.

Of course.

The production's in
terrible trouble, yes.

And as Glenda's
solicitor, I'm not at all sure

her attitude gives us
a legal leg to stand on,

but I will defend to the death

her right as an artist
to take that position.

Well, bravo, Edward.
Sounds like Glenda, all right.

You've known her for
a long time, I take it?

Oh, longer than either
one of us care to remember.

I was making my
first trip to London.

Glenda was with
the Olvie company,

playing page boys
to Olivier and Gielgud.

Madly in love with a man
who was twice her age.

Johnny something, as I remember.

And Glenda says you've
been friends ever since.

Hmm.

You must know
Brett Dillon, then.

No. Should I?

He's the young man
who lives with her.

Madam.

Jessica!

Oh, Glen.

This has gotta be the Jessica
I've heard so much about.

Jessica, this is Brett Dillon.

Brett. Ma'am,

Glenda has told me all
about you. It is a real pleasure.

For me, too.

Brett, why don't you take Edward
to look at your cabbage patch

or somewhere
equally uninspiring?

Jessica and I
have lots to discuss.

Okie dokie. Come on, Edward.

How are you at
pulling weeds, Edward?

Well, one at a time.

I suppose you think
I'm a silly old fool.

Brett? I think he's
a very nice man.

I think I've seen most of
Mae Shaughnessy's plays.

And for the first time she
seems to be floundering.

As if she isn't comfortable
with the mystery form.

Well, see, it's partly our
commercially-minded producer.

Martin's first and only
production before this was

some dreadful
exploitation piece,

with bare bottoms
and rude songs.

And I'm sure it
made tons of money.

Unfortunately, yes.

Glenda, isn't there
an alternative?

I mean, you still have your wonderful
talent, and there are so many other plays.

Thank you. And yes.

But the juicy parts are
written for the young

and let's face it, I
can't pass anymore.

Oh, Jess, I don't think
I'm kidding myself,

but I think this could
have a really long run.

Edward, you've
got to be kidding me.

Oh, now, Brett...

I don't need this just for myself. I
want to build something for Brett.

Enough to allow him
to keep this place.

He loves it so and to
give him some income.

Bless you, Jess.

You are an absolute lifesaver.

And one who must be
getting back to London.

Edward has set up a meeting for me
and Mae Shaughnessy at the theater.

I'll round up Edward. And I'd
like to give you a few of my notes.

Good.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Please call me Jessica.

Jessica.

I don't get into London that much
and Friday is Glenda's birthday

and well, there's this jewelry
shop on Jermyn Street,

and, well, you're a woman
and you know Glenda

and I was thinking
maybe you could...

Brett, as much as I'd like to
help, you know, a gift of jewelry

is a very personal thing and I think
it will mean much more to Glenda

if you pick it out yourself.

Are we ready? Yes, we're ready.

Good luck with
your project, Brett.

Another project, Brett?
Haven't you got enough

between staking the asparagus
and trenching the string beans?

Glenda, dear, I think that
goes the other way around.

Does it?

Thank you again, Jess.

It's September.
Glenda is a Virgo.

I suggest you
might try a sapphire.

Let's get something
on the table here.

I've never allowed anybody
to second-guess my work

and I don't intend to start now.

Well, I can assure you the
situation is as uncomfortable for me

as it is for you,
Miss Shaughnessy.

But I am here for Glenda.

I'd put anything on
the line for Glenda.

Except collaboration.

I've never collaborated.
Not now, not ever.

Let's be quite clear
about something.

I don't write plays,
Miss Shaughnessy.

And I did not come
here to write yours.

There are some moments in my
novel that I believe that you have missed.

And I believe that I could just
help you to strengthen them.

Now, surely when Martin
Kramer brought you my book...

Martin Kramer wouldn't know a piece
of material if it bit him on the bottom.

I brought the book to her.
He'd nothing to do with it.

Didn't Glenda tell you?

No, she didn't.

Then maybe we've
something in common.

We've both been lied
to by that slime, Martin.

Just what is it you feel
I missed in your book?

I think the key is in the character
that Lawson Childress plays.

That's Harrington.

Yes.

You just had a bad day.

I didn't pick up my life to come to
London to be used as a scapegoat.

Franklin. I don't
need this in my...

Franklin, look, it's
all in your head.

Yeah. Well, tell me that
tomorrow after he replaces me.

Come on, sweetheart!

The handwriting's on the wall.

Look, if you don't believe me, the creep's
right over there with my replacement.

His name is Lance Pistol.

Well, if you find that amusing,
you should've seen him

in that monstrosity
Kramer put on last year.

I heard. But look, Peter
really wants you, sweetheart.

Oh, sure. But Peter wants his
first West End production more

and he'll dance to
Martin's tune to get it.

This is Jessica Fletcher.

Malcolm Brooker, Mrs. Fletcher.

Yes, Mr. Brooker?

Forgive the hour,

but knowing how busy you'll
be in the next week or two,

I thought we might
set aside a time to talk.

Well, it's very
late, Mr. Brooker.

What did you want to talk about?

Not what, but
who, Mrs. Fletcher.

And please, call me Malcolm.
I'm a writer like yourself

working on a piece for Empire
Magazine about Glenda Highsmith's

return to the stage.

Look, surely you've
talked to Miss Highsmith

and I can't think of
anything that I could add.

Oh, but you can.

About when Miss Highsmith
was very much younger.

Apparently, you two were
friends and she was involved

with a certain
Earl of Glenhaven.

I've never heard of
any Earl of Glenhaven

and as I said, I...
Then perhaps you might

have some thoughts
about her current amour,

this American
chap, Brett Dillon.

Mr. Brooker, if I knew anything about
either of these people, which I don't,

I wouldn't discuss it with
a stranger over the phone

or anywhere for that matter.

Now, it's very
late, if you'll...

Better the facts than
rumor, Mrs. Fletcher.

Think about that.

Thank you, Mr. Kramer.

Hello, Eddie. You're
up late, chappie.

You should know that Glenda
received a call from Mae Shaughnessy

and she's satisfied that Mrs.
Fletcher has Mae on the right track.

She'll be at rehearsal
in the morning.

Very good news, Eddie. You
seem to be on top of things.

Kramer, there's a
Malcolm Brooker

who's hounding everyone
on the production,

trying to get privy
information about Glenda.

He says he's writing an
article by Empire Magazine.

I want you to do something
to get him off our backs.

Brooker.

Haven't a clue, Eddie.

Well, understand this.
Our arrangement aside,

if I thought for a moment
that Brooker was one of

your blasted control mechanisms,

that in your deceitful,
underhanded way...

Don't use your old school
tie with me, St. Cloud.

And don't forget what
trouble I can make for you.

At any cost, I'm going
to protect Glenda.

At any cost?

One phone call, Eddie, and we
both know what your next stop will be.

Would it really matter?

Thanks to you, every shred of my
reputation with clients and colleagues

rests with this production.

All you have to do is make sure
Glenda works and we have a show.

Barbara's right.

We've been shut up in this
mausoleum for two days.

If I may be
permitted an opinion.

No, you're not, Mr. Harrington.

Barbara, the Inspector
said we were to stay here

and that is...

Oh, Martin, I had a very
bizarre phone call late last night.

Malcolm Brooker.

Sure, he's the writer who's
doing a piece on Glenda

for Empire Magazine.

He's been on to me,
too. He's quite harmless.

Just tell him what he wants to know.
Probably do the show some good.

Mae, you're a genius.

It's really beginning to work.

Couldn't agree more!

Oliver, make a note.

The armoire's got to be
larger than we've got here

and be sure it's a
Sheraton, like the rest.

Righto.

Ah! Mrs. Fletcher.

Since you're our
resident expert on murder,

I wonder if you'd do me a huge
favor and come and help me pick out

a weapon of your choice, huh?

You go ahead, Mae,
and I'll catch up with you.

I'd just love to, Mr. Childress.

Truth be known, I wore that
peruke in The Misanthrope.

Molière. One of my favorites.

I was 19 when I played Alceste.

I was young, handsome,
with inordinate ambition.

You know, somebody said
that the theater is supposed to be

a means for us all to grow
bigger than we actually are.

I just seem to
have grown smaller.

Why don't you poke around
in here? See what you can find.

All right.

Oh, these look as
if they'd do the job.

Oh, Robert Graves gave
us a choice, you know.

Women, drink or
snuff. Women, no more.

Snuff, I can't stand the stuff.

There isn't much
left for me but this.

Oh, yes, that's much better.

I'm indebted to your
expertise, Mrs. Fletcher.

Surely you know that Glenda has
placed a great deal of faith in you.

Yes. Good old Glenda.

You know that she made it a
condition that I played Harrington?

Yes.

Shall we?

Oh, this furnace seems
to be in working order.

I wonder why...

Why our penny-pinching producer
prefers to fast freeze his cast

rather than drop a shilling?

Yes, well, welcome to the world

of Martin Kramer
theater, Mrs. Fletcher.

I don't doubt that you each have a
reason to have killed Amelia Fredericks.

Whichever of you it is, your
conscience will indict you

before the law does.

Much, much better. Glenda, say
your last lines upstage more, please,

and try to cheat
toward the armoire.

By now, she's beginning to
realize the white raincoat inside

holds a solution to the puzzle.

Very nice, everyone.

Ever work here before?

Jess, dinner? You, too, Mae.

I'm meeting Brett
at Binkie's at 7:00.

Okay.

Lights, please! Take
your brollies, people.

It's raining cats
and dogs out there.

Oh, bother. I
forgot my raincoat.

Come along with
me, we'll share a cab.

Okay.

That won't help your memory.

I'm toasting a memory.

Some things are best forgotten.

Not this one. 10
years ago, today,

September, the 14th.

No, it wasn't September.

It was spring.

April or May.

That's when we first slept
together. May, the 9th.

I'm talking about
September when you ran off.

Nothing the matter
with your memory.

Nothing wrong with
me running off, either.

Really, I know you better
than you know yourself.

There was something else
you were running away from.

Oh, Lawson.

Now, don't tell me to shut up.

It's to do with that narky little
sniveler, Malcolm Brooker,

who's been wandering around,
asking a lot of very important questions.

For goodness sakes,
stay out of this, Lawson.

I've got nothing
to lose, Glenda.

And I'm not going to
let anybody hurt you.

Dearest man, I love
you for saying that,

but this girl will take care
of herself, don't worry.

Learn your lines
and do a good job.

That's what I need from you.

Oh, you're a peach to
come down here with me.

I'm starting to get goosebumps.

Oh, I rather like it.

You know, this old place must be
haunted with the spirits of old actors

and property masters,
stage managers...

Will you shut up?

Now pray that there is a
mackintosh in here for me.

What about that white
one in the corner?

Ah! By no means.

You ought to know it's the main clue,
isn't it? What she has in the pocket?

Yep.

Okay. Here's something.
Well, now, this'll do nicely.

Martin,

could I have your
ear for a moment?

You can have any
part of me, love.

Franklin thinks that
you don't like him.

That you've already
found his replacement.

And I just want to hear
you say it wasn't true.

Oh, dear, you put me
in a very difficult position.

It's not me, it's your director.

Well, Peter hasn't
said anything.

This part is Franklin's
biggest break.

Just means so much to him.

You love the guy, right?

Well, I'm not sure if it's love,

but Franklin means
a great deal to me.

I guess that shows.

Does it ever. And you're right.

Things don't look too good
for Franklin right at the moment,

but you can help.

How?

Well, Peter Drew doesn't
make the decisions, I do.

Yes, but... You and me,
nothing serious, on the side.

My place is only five
minutes from here.

Franklin need never know and I
guarantee he'll stay in the cast...

God! You're repulsive!

Repulsive?

Love, you don't know
what repulsive is.

Say goodbye to your friend.

Sally, you've got to
tell me what's going on.

I'm sure I can help.
Just tell me, darling.

No, I can't. Just please don't
ask me any more questions, okay?

All I gotta say is, something has brought
the color back into Glenda's cheeks.

And I think I have the
two of you to thank for it.

Well, I admit it. Jessica has shown
me a few of the tricks of her trade.

And vice versa.

Sally, please! Please, just...

Sally, wait. Sally,
I'll get a cab.

Well, I owe both of you. Now
I'm gonna have to say good night.

Oh, Brett, I thought you were
staying with me at the hotel?

I can't. I got some
errands to run.

Good night. Good night.

Good night, ladies.

Good night. - Good night.

Well, I suppose it's
beddy-byes for me, too.

I've got gobs to memorize.

Thanks to you two.

I'll ride with you, Glen.
Coming along, Jessica?

It'll take you out of your way.

I'm gonna just sit here
and finish my coffee.

All right. Good night, then.

Good night. Bye-bye, Jess.

See you in the morning.

So, your unvarnished
opinion, Jessica.

Is it really coming together
or am I kidding myself?

Come off it, Peter. I've
been watching you work.

You're as an accomplished
a director as I've ever seen.

With all the improvements, I
wish Glenda was more into it.

What do you mean?

There's still something standing
between her and the play.

A pall of some kind and it's
affecting her concentration.

Can you put a name on that?

I think I can. Martin Kramer.

Martin, nice to see you.

Speak of the devil.
Excuse me, Jessica.

Peter.

Jessica, what can I say.
You've saved the play.

Mae did all the work.

Call for you, Mr. Kramer.

Martin Kramer.

So you've come around.
Yeah, what? 9:00?

Hey, of all places. Yeah.
All right. I'll be there.

You'll excuse me, Jessica.
Unexpected business.

Oh, of course.

Hello! Anybody home?

Hide and seek, is it?

Oliver Hopkins,
our stage manager

found him first
thing this morning.

What brought Mr. Hopkins
down there, Mr. Drew?

I'd gone down... Mr. Drew.

If you please.

He'd gone down to the
wardrobe locker for a raincoat

which figures
importantly in the play.

Get it over to
forensics immediately.

I want the fingerprints and
blood analysis by 11:00.

Yes, ma'am. And,
ma'am... What is it?

There's this lady downstairs.

I left Binkie's at 8:00.

Brett had gone just
a few minutes before.

Who's Brett? Who
the hell is asking?

Detective Chief
Inspector Jarvis is asking.

Who's Brett, Miss
Highsmith? He's not on our list.

No, he's not, ma'am.

Brett is a young man who at the
moment happens to be living with me.

Arrange to see him, too, now.

Can anyone tell me who a Mrs. Fletcher
is and what she has to do with this?

Would you look at this over
here? What do you make of that?

You're the J.B. Fletcher who writes
books about murder and mayhem.

The former, mostly,
yes, and you are?

Detective Chief
Inspector Jarvis.

Scotland Yard.

I'll have to ask you to leave
this area. It's not customary.

I quite understand.
I just can't resist.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Mrs. Fletcher, are you coming?

Oh, yes, of course.

Lester? This is
Jessica Fletcher.

Jessica! How marvelous
to hear your voice.

Will we be able to have lunch?

Well, I'd love to, Lester,
but I don't have much time.

Listen, you must know as much as anybody
about the current peerage in England.

Does the name Glenhaven
mean anything to you?

Well, of course. The
seventeenth Earl of Glenhaven.

Oh, he's a splendid fellow.
He's a member of my club.

Oh, but surely you know that
John's dying. He's in the hospital now.

John? John, who?

Just a moment!

John Camden, the
seventeenth Earl of Glenhaven.

Now, Jessica, what does
your calendar look like...

No time, Lester.
I'll call, I promise.

You look as if you've
just about had it.

Come inside.

Oh, save me from policemen.

The only good thing
that's happened is

that Edward's
checked the financing

and the show can go
forward without Martin.

Oh, I'm so happy
to hear that, Glenda.

Listen, I've got a
question to ask you.

When we were much, much younger,

I remember that you were madly in
love with a very handsome grenadier.

Of course, you
remember. John Camden.

To put it a little obviously, I
wasn't aware of his lineage then.

You're onto me, aren't you?

John never told me.

And infatuation blinded
me to any such possibility

that he could be the heir to
the earldom of Glenhaven.

I was so much in love.
We married secretly.

And by the time he told his
parents, I was already pregnant.

With Brett.

I noticed that you don't touch
the way lovers touch, that's all.

Why the deception, Glen?

John's parents were insisting
on an abortion and divorce.

I was touring in
America at the time,

so I ran away and
had the baby in Tulsa.

With the Dillon family.

Well, they seem to have done
an excellent job as parents.

When the divorce was final,
I told John I'd miscarried.

I haven't spoken to him since.

But his family found out anyway.

They only suspect. John's dying
and his family have started fishing.

Ah, of course, which would explain
what this Malcolm Brooker's real game is.

He must be working
for the family.

Has he found out
anything about Brett?

I don't think so.

But he could be close.

Through here.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher
forgive the mess.

But as you can see...

I take it you're just moving in.

Right. Now, you said on the
phone that you wanted to be helpful

to this investigation. I'm
not sure what that means.

We took your deposition.

Well, I'm a good friend
of Glenda Highsmith.

If I can help her to get past this
tragedy and see that the play succeeds...

Well, go on.

Well, there was a man haunting
the production who says that he wants

to write a magazine
piece on Glenda.

On the phone, he didn't sound
anything like a writer to me.

I don't think he's on
your deposition list.

But I do think it might be a
good idea to question him.

His name is Malcolm Brooker.

Oh, tell me how to deal
with the world of men,

and who knows, maybe we'll
solve Martin Kramer's murder.

Malcolm Brooker.

Malcolm Brooker couldn't
write a ruddy magazine piece

if his life depended on it.

He's a grifter, a petty crook,

masquerading as a
private investigator.

Yes, Inspector?

Ma'am, we have the
print report from forensics.

Well, go on.

Her prints are on
the murder weapon.

Oh, thank you, Martindale.

That will be all, Inspector.

We must excuse
Inspector Martindale.

I was only made DCI on Friday.

He lost the job to you.

Yes, and finds it difficult
to adjust to a woman

running a Scotland
Yard murder squad.

Well, we can't
help that, can we?

Ma'am, Liverpool says
they're expecting you up there

first thing in the morning.

Pardon, but they
said no excuses.

Oh, damn! Get Martindale back.

He's interviewing the people
from the theater, ma'am.

Get him, Constable. Yes, ma'am.

First week on the job, first homicide
and the Divisional Superintendent

calls a ruddy stupid, brainstorming
session for Chief Inspectors.

I'm so sorry. Leaving
Martindale in charge.

Oh, he's a good enough
policeman, but he's too impulsive.

Forensics say that the murder
weapon was wiped almost clean.

We're looking for whatever
that was done with.

Almost clean?

Except for your
prints, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, I don't really believe
you killed the man,

but you will be staying
in London, won't you?

Well, I don't quite see
how I can leave right now.

Good luck with
the job, Inspector.

Please pick up line five.

Excuse me.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher, we went
through Martin Kramer's checkbook.

Brooker was his boy.

You were lucky to catch
me in, Mrs. Fletcher.

I was about to depart
for parts unknown,

seeing that word was out
that the police had some idea

I was connected to
Martin Kramer's murder.

On the phone you implied that
you had some important information.

Yes. Well, they'll
listen to you.

Perhaps that'll get
them off my back.

The thing is, I know
who murdered Martin.

What on earth are
you talking about?

Well, as you can understand, Kramer
didn't like us being seen together.

But he owed me money, so
last night I followed him here

from the restaurant that all the
theater people go to. Binkie's.

He came in through
the stage door.

I waited a few moments
and followed him inside.

He went down into the basement.

I was about to call out to him,

when suddenly this blonde-haired
woman came up behind him and...

Well, you know the rest.

I don't have the best relationship
with the London police, so I ran.

A blonde-haired woman? Surely...

No, I didn't. It was dark,
I couldn't see too clearly.

Except for the white
raincoat she was wearing.

Well, I'd seen enough of the
rehearsals to know who that belonged to.

It's the one she
wears in the play.

Glenda?

Oh, Lord, I'm off.

Mr. Brooker, wait.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Inspector, what is going on?

You do not have to say
anything unless you wish to do so,

but what you say may
be given as evidence.

A fine kettle of fish, eh?

You'll be out by morning, Glen.

Oh, yes. Call Edward
for me, will you?

Oh, of course.

That will be all. Move along.

The police caught Brooker earlier
tonight boarding a train for Southampton.

He gave them the same
story he gave you, Jessica.

But he admitted that the light
was poor in the theater basement.

He didn't say that he saw Glenda,
only that it might have been Glenda.

Brooker's fear of
police retaliation may

have prompted more
embellishment than truth.

According to the charge, they're
quite aware now that it was Martin

who hired Brooker to find
out about you and Brett.

To prevent that would
presume a motive on your part.

I'm sorry, darling,

but the entire Glenhaven
thing is bound to come out now.

Glenda, you and Mae
left the restaurant together.

You shared a cab.
That's what's sticky, Jess.

We didn't.

Mae changed her mind. And
I did go back to the theater.

I'd left the new sides
in my dressing room.

I wanted to be ready for
the rehearsal this morning.

And what were you wearing?

Oh, why, for goodness
sake? My old raincoat.

You've seen it. What
difference does it make?

Time's up, I'm afraid.

You're going to
be all right, Glen.

Call Brett for me, will
you? I'm terribly worried.

There's been no answer
from the phone at the house

all last night or this morning.

I can't imagine
where he's got to.

I will, Glenda. Don't worry.

All right.

Inspector, there are several details
that may be critical to this case.

In the basement
of the theater...

Nothing that can't wait
till morning, I'm sure.

When is Chief Inspector
Jarvis returning?

It'll be very late.

All right. That's all
for today, people.

Get a good night's rest.

My God. How do we have a
rehearsal with the leading lady in jail?

We try, Peter.

Calls 10:00 sharp,
people. Lights!

Mrs. Fletcher, have
you seen Glenda?

Yes, her spirits are high and
she sends her love to all of you.

Oh, God bless her.

Sally.

Forgive my curiosity,
but the white raincoat,

is that not a plot requirement at the
scene that you were just rehearsing?

Yes, it was. But we
couldn't find it anywhere.

Poor Oliver's losing
his mind over it.

I think I may know where it is.
Will you help me to test my theory?

No. Maybe another time, Mrs...

I'm sorry, dear, but there
can be no other time.

Finding that coat can
possibly clear Glenda.

Very well.

If you're thinking
it's in there,

Oliver's been into it a dozen times and
besides, I don't know the combination.

I didn't think that you did.

I spoke to the wardrobe
mistress and as far as I know,

only two other people
aside from her did know it.

This gas furnace here, Sally.

I know that Martin never
allowed it to be turned on.

But yesterday when I was
down here with Inspector Jarvis,

I detected an odor of
something burned or scorched

that wouldn't be found in
a cold out-of-use furnace.

It didn't mean anything to me then until
I remembered the missing white raincoat

and a blonde wig I noticed
was missing from a wig cabinet.

It was a wig with very much the same
style and coloring as Glenda's hair.

Mrs. Fletcher, I can't imagine why you've
dragged me down here to tell me this.

Well, then the two
thoughts came together.

It wasn't gas I smelled,

but the odor of singed
hair and a synthetic fabric

from the missing raincoat.

Oh, my God! Then
it was Franklin.

No, Sally, but someone who had
to know the theater more intimately.

Someone, in a hurry to
disguise their appearance,

who grabbed a wig and a raincoat
which through happenstance

looked very much
like Glenda's coat.

And I'm quite sure that that
person has as much affection for you

as Franklin does.

Oliver?

I'm thankful to
you, Mrs. Fletcher.

I couldn't have
stood it much longer.

Oliver, for God's sake!

Please, love.

Getting upset won't
change anything.

I did it for you.

Franklin need never know. And I
guarantee he'll stay in the cast...

God! You're repulsive!

Last night I was in the wings
wrapping things up after rehearsal,

when I heard Martin
make his offer to you.

He keeps Franklin in the
show if you go to bed with him.

After you ran off, I saw that
cruel ugly look in his face.

And I knew that even if he hurt the
production, he would take his revenge

on you by firing Franklin.

So powerless and at the same time
I was relieved you turned him down.

I ended up at Binkie's talking to
Peter when you and Franklin left.

Sally, I'll get a cab.

You went to your
dressing room, remember?

And I followed you.

You had a terrible argument,
but you told him nothing.

I admire you for that, Sally.

Then after he left, I heard
you call that beast Martin,

trading yourself
for Franklin's sake.

You didn't want to go to his
place and I don't blame you.

So you told him you'd meet
him where no one would see.

But you came to me with
a message from Martin.

Unless I'm mistaken, saying
that Martin couldn't make it.

Oh, yes, but I
made it all right.

And I have no regrets, either.

I hadn't meant to implicate
Miss Highsmith, honestly.

It was for you, Sally.

You're going to be a big star
someday, like Judy or Marilyn.

You've got the talent, the
looks, the je ne sais quoi.

You'll go all the way.

I got your call on
my machine at home.

Ruddy brainstorming
session went into overtime.

Was your hunch right? Yes.

I'm sorry, but...

You had to move before
the evidence was destroyed.

And I thank you for that.

It'll be a blot on
Martindale's notebook.

He should have
been ahead of you.

Inspector, this
is Oliver Hopkins.

I think that he has several
things he'd like to get off his chest.

Lawson phoned his regrets. The
dear man's put himself on a regimen,

and, well, an occasion like this
is just another incentive to drink.

I have... Everybody!

I've just come
from the box office.

Advance sales
exceed all expectations.

That's so wonderful!

Oh, dear, God. Thank heavens!

They're lined up
to see you, darling.

Oh, for heaven...

As for your problem, Brett,

I'm afraid you can't abdicate.

So you'll always be the
seventeenth Earl of Glenhaven,

but you can make a gift of the assets
to the other heirs, if that's your wish.

That's okay with me.

Who wants 17,000 acres of Devon?

I've got more than I
can handle right here.

Brett, you had a particular
project that you asked me about,

do you remember?

Yeah, I sure do and I
took your advice to heart.

The night Mom
wondered where I got to?

I went down to that little shop
on Jermyn Street I told you about.

It was late, so I spent the night
at a friend's house in London.

But by the next morning, the
shop had come up with this.

Brett, it's lovely.

For you. Happy birthday, Mom.

And thank you. Thank you, Brett.

My son.

Edward, Jessica, my dear, dear
friends, I owe you all so much!

Well, hell, life can't be a
whole lot better than this!