Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 10, Episode 15 - Murder on the Thirtieth Floor - full transcript

You're the only writer who hits
a home run every time at bat.

Safe! He's out!

What do you mean, he's
out? What are you, blind?

Hold it! You're fired!

Haven't you noticed anything
strange about Uncle Edward lately?

Oh, dear, that sounds ominous.

As a psychiatrist, I'm rarely
surprised at anything that people do.

Your book is perfect. I
wouldn't change a comma.

This time you've failed. I'm
suspending publication indefinitely

so you can try again
with a page one rewrite.

Do you know anything
about manic depressives?



I think it was lousy for
Graham to fire you in public.

And I don't even
like you that much.

Could that have clouded
your judgment about him?

There's someone in the house.

9-1-1.

I'm so lonely
without you, Edward.

I miss you so very much.

Please come to me, Edward.

We can spend eternity together.

Beth...

Come to me. Please, come to me.

You have reached
Dr. Santana's office.

Dr. Santana is not in
the office at this time.

Our regular business hours are 9:00
to 5:00, weekdays, and 9:00 to 12...



Mr. Graham asked me
to apologize for being late.

He just called on his car phone.

He was five minutes away.

Well, I hope he
wasn't up all night,

working on the notes
for my manuscript.

Oh, no, he made most of his notes
in the office before he left yesterday.

Most of his notes? Oh,
dear, that sounds ominous.

Oh, please have a seat.

Thank you.

Can I get you a cup of coffee?

No. No, thank you.

Good morning, Jessica.
Good morning, Edward.

That's my niece, Lori, daughter
of my half-brother, Charles.

She's lovely. And a dear.

I'd lost track of Charles until
someone from the family called me

to tell me he died of some
lingering disease out in Oregon.

I didn't know he had a daughter

until she wrote me a
lovely letter after Beth died.

She's very bright, too. I'm
grooming her to become an editor.

She's here?

I talked her into moving to
Manhattan three months ago.

Got her a job as Steve
DiNapoli's assistant.

I'll introduce you. But
first, we have work to do.

Well, I think I've addressed

all of the changes
that we discussed.

Jessica, I love the changes.

Well, I hope you'll be as
charitable with the rest of your notes.

What notes? I don't have any.

Your book is perfect. I
wouldn't change a comma.

It'll be a runaway best-seller.

It'll make you the darling
of every critic in the country.

Here, catch!

Oh!

I should sign you up
for our softball team.

Come in, Donna.

It's almost time for your next
appointment, Mr. Graham.

Already? Where does the time go?

Well, I hate to edit
and run, Jessica.

Well, listen, if you have any
second thoughts at all, please...

Impossible. My decisions
are etched in granite.

Well, in that case, that'll
give me plenty of time

to drop by the library before
my 2:00 with Carrie Benton.

She helped me with
some last minute research.

You'll find her in a new
office, right over there.

Oh, since when?

Since I asked Ted Hartley to
promote her to Children's Books Editor.

Oh, what a nice
break for Carrie.

Mmm-hmm.

Mmm-hmm.

Well, I think you're an
incredible writer, Arnold.

It's just that the plot of your second
book about the roller skating pig

was exactly the
same as the first.

You're underestimating
your audience.

Well, it's just that 3-year-olds
are a lot more discerning

than they used to be.

All right, just think
about it, okay?

All right, bye. Bye.

You are a terrible person.

I will take chocolate.

Good choice.

A pig on roller skates, huh?

Hey, come on, that's very cute.

Yeah?

Mmm! That's terrific.

Tell me something.

You used to bring me
donuts almost every day.

Why'd you stop?

You started seeing Ed Graham.

I decided my love
offerings weren't working.

Is that what this is?

Eat. It's a fantasy,
not a commitment.

Hate fantasies.
Love commitments.

Hello, Steve.

Ed, I know what this looks like.

But I swear, I'm not trying
to fatten up your girlfriend.

Oh! Edward is not amused,
even though he should be.

I've seen funnier
losers on Star Search.

Steve brought me donuts for a
party to celebrate my promotion.

What a keen idea!

My invitation must've
gotten lost in the mail,

or is this an intimate party?

Okay. I think
I'll go to the park

and hit some fungoes
before the game.

So long, sports fans.

Steve...

I cannot believe that you were
so rude to one of my friends.

I've evidently misjudged
the level of your taste.

Why are you behaving like this?

Are you criticizing my behavior?

Well, I better get right on over
to my doctor and tell him about it.

Goodbye, dear heart.

Last night was bad.
Worse than before.

Edward, speak up. I
can barely hear you.

When I woke up,

there was a moment where I
couldn't remember where I was,

or how I got there. My
own bed, for God's sake!

What else do you remember?

Nothing. It's all gone.

Well, you said it was a bad
night. What made it bad?

I told you, I don't remember!

You're censoring
your thoughts, Edward.

Was it something you saw?

It was the same
horrible nightmare.

I was alone.

Surrounded by
misty shadows at...

At the edge of an
abyss as black as hell.

I could see Beth.

Her voice was barely a whisper.

Go ahead.

She was pleading.

"Come to me. Come to me."

I wanted to. I wanted
to be with Beth again.

But I knew if I did, I would
just cross over into hell.

That fear is what
always wakes me up.

What are you looking at?

A man who's in need of help.

Carrie, this is the most thorough
research that I have ever read.

I'm going to have to go straight
home and correct my manuscript,

before somebody else discovers
that some of my facts are fiction.

Jessica, you knew
Edward's wife, didn't you?

Oh, yes, yes. I
introduced her to Edward,

when he worked for
my former publisher.

They had a wonderful marriage.

I gather that isn't
just an idle question?

Edward and I have
been seeing each other,

but he's never taken me
to his house in Connecticut.

He's always got some excuse.

What is it about that house?

Well, when Beth became ill,

Edward took a leave of absence,

and he remained with her, day and night,
in that house, and she died in his arms.

I know he was devastated.

But he came right back to work,

and tried to overcome his grief

by working too
hard to think about it.

I urged him to
consult a therapist.

Well, he took your advice. It's just, I
don't know how much good it's doing.

Carrie, I beg your pardon.

I'm looking for Graham.

His secretary seems to be
on an extended coffee break.

Jessica, you know Leonard
Ambler, the company controller.

Oh, yes. Yes, of course.

Ted introduced us when
I signed my contract.

He told her I was the one to
yell at if her checks were late.

Carrie, do you have any
idea where Graham might be?

He had a doctor's appointment.

He usually confines his
appointments to late afternoon.

Well, I know, but he
wanted to go early today

because of the softball game.

My mistake, I keep thinking
this is a business office.

That reminds me. I've gotta
get changed for the game.

Oh, I didn't realize
you were on the team.

Oh. Well, how do you think
I got my promotion, huh?

I am the best
hitter in the league

and Edward's the team coach.

Hey, Jessica, why don't you come on
down to Central Park, watch us play?

If we win today, we'll be in the
playoffs for the league championship.

Well, it's tempting, but I've
really got too much to do.

Jessica. Ready for the ballgame?

Sorry. Not today.

Oh, come on. You
can keep Lori company.

Lori Graham. I'm
Jessica Fletcher.

I saw your photograph
in your uncle's office.

My uncle said you
were a good friend.

He couldn't have found
you at a better time.

Mrs. Fletcher, you would know.

Haven't you noticed anything
strange about Uncle Edward lately?

Hey, shortstop, let's move it!

Meet me down in
front. I'll get us a cab.

Strange? In what way?

I don't know.

Sort of, like, he's up and
down, almost in the same breath.

You know, on second thought, I
think I will go with you to the game.

Well, good! I'll buy
the hotdogs. Play ball!

Edward told you
that he heard voices?

Just one. Aunt Beth's.

Come on! Yeah! Oh!

All right, come on, Steve. Come
on, come on, come on, come on.

Here we go. Here we go.
Here we go. Here we go.

Let's go! Do it for us, babe.

Strike!

Hit one for me, Steve!

Give us a break
here. Give us a break.

Wow!

Take two! Two! Stay on two!

Way to go! Come on! Let's
go, we need a run. Bring him in!

Don't forget to hit
the cut-off, man.

Strike!

That was way high!

Come on! Keep
your eye on the ball.

Let's go! Come on!

Go! Go!

He's out!

What do you mean, he's out?

He's out! He was
tagged at the plate!

After he hit the plate!

He's still out! What's
the matter with you?

Hold it! Hold it!

I just can't believe
you didn't see that!

I can't believe it.

Hold it, hold it, hold it!

You're outta here!

Eddie, Eddie! He's right.

The catcher tagged me
before I touched home plate.

What are you, a
traitor? Get outta here!

Outta the game and outta
the company! You're fired!

I have real problems
with your book, Jessica.

Oh, dear. Does that mean I'm
not going to be the critics' darling?

I'm serious.

Yes. Yes, I think you are.

I don't understand. I
thought you liked it.

That was before I re-read it.

Your book is a major
disappointment. It's badly flawed.

Edward, I would be very grateful
if you would point out the flaws.

Here's the short list.

Your characters lack dimension,

your detective is a major
wimp who solves the case

100 pages after
your dumbest readers,

and your spine-tingling
suspense put me to sleep.

It's very badly done.

Well, if it is, we
did it badly together.

I wrote and you edited.

I followed your
comments almost verbatim,

and for the most part,
I agreed with them.

Edward, what is going on here?

Yesterday you were full of praise
and enthusiasm for the book, and...

Well, now you're
completely negative.

Let's be honest. This
time you've failed.

I'm suspending
publication indefinitely

so you can try again
with a page one rewrite.

Now, would you like
to hear all my notes?

You can't walk
out on me, Jessica!

Edward, I have to
think this through.

You've already lost one editor.

It would be a shame to
lose an author and a friend.

And I'm telling you, Ed
Graham is crackin' up.

Okay, so he overreacted.

Overreacted?

And now you're overreacting.

I'm here to clean out my
desk and say goodbye.

Doesn't that tell you something?

You know, you could
have kept your mouth shut.

Oh. You're never gonna believe
this, but I predicted you'd say that.

Yeah, I wrote it
on a piece of paper,

and I have it in my
pocket. Oh, Steve, stop it.

Maybe I should have let him
beat the dust out of the umpire, too.

Was that nutty, or what?

Absolutely insane.
And I never said that.

Leonard.

I heard a rumor you
were in the building.

Well, you want me to
sign my dismissal papers

in triplicate for your files?

Your papers haven't
come through yet.

Strictly off the record,

I think it was lousy for
Graham to fire you in public.

And I don't even
like you that much.

Does it mean anything to
anyone that Steve has a contract?

No.

Mean anything to you, Leonard?

Not if Graham doesn't
want you around.

He has more clout with Ted
Hartley than anyone I know.

More coffee, Ted?

Oh, please.

Say, your cookies are
absolutely sensational.

You really shouldn't have
gone to all this trouble.

Well, actually, I cheated.

I found this absolutely fabulous
bakery on Columbus Avenue.

Well, you know, Jess, you
gave me the scare of my life.

I heard that you walked out on
that meeting with Edward Graham.

Of course, that's why I
invited myself over here.

Well, I thought as much.

To put it bluntly, Jessica,

right now you're the
only writer that we publish

who hits a triple, or a
home run every time at bat.

And I just hate like hell
for you to go away mad.

Listen, Ted, Edward and I
have been through a lot together.

He helped make best-sellers
out of three of my books.

We made the move to your
publishing house at the same time.

I couldn't ask
for a better editor.

Then why did you walk out on him,
and leave him with egg on his face?

Well, he upset me terribly.

Yesterday, he said that
my book was perfect.

Today, he told me
how much he hated it.

Well, I read it, and I
thought it was terrific.

What's gotten into Edward?

Do you know anything
about manic depressives?

Say, you're not
suggesting that Edward...

It's just that recently he's
developed radical mood swings.

I mean, one minute,
all is right with the world,

and possibilities are endless.

The next minute, everything is
wrong, and the outlook is dismal.

Well, he's been seeing
some shrink I never heard of.

There you go.

Just what the doctor ordered.

I can't drink any
more of this filthy stuff.

Edward, you know it's an
essential part of your treatment.

You haven't been listening.
The treatment's not working.

I feel worse than ever.

Take it.

Looks like the bottom
of a boat I once owned.

Then close your eyes. You
know it makes you feel better.

I'm losing control, Jerry. I can't
seem to organize my thoughts.

One moment, something
seems terribly important to me,

the next moment, I can't
remember what it was!

That will pass.

So will we all. That's not
much of a comfort, either.

I'm wasting time. I gotta get
back to the office and work.

Cheers.

Edward, slow down.
You work too hard.

That, too, shall pass.

Edward! Edward!

Come to me. We can
spend eternity together.

Oh, Mr. Graham, I didn't
know you were still here.

There's nobody up there.

Mr. Hartley and everybody
else, they all went home.

Did you hear me, sir? The
upstairs offices are closed.

I'm sorry to get
you all here so early.

I know you were all
Mr. Graham's friends.

I respect that.

But it's my job to
investigate his suicide.

To do that properly, I need
to know his frame of mind.

Mrs. Fletcher, not the best of
ways to renew an acquaintance, is it?

No, Lieutenant.

As I understand it, Mr. Graham
behaved in some sort of

screwball fashion toward you.

He seemed driven
by some inner demon.

It's the only way
I can describe it.

Not to be personal or anything,

but could that have clouded
your judgment about him?

I mean, are you sure
you just weren't smarting

because he was
knocking your work?

Yes, Lieutenant, I'm positive.

Did any of you talk
to him last night?

Uh, he...

He came to my office
just as I was leaving.

It was around 7:00.

Asked me to have
dinner with him.

I said that I wanted to
go home and change first,

and he said that he had
some things to do in his office,

and so he would meet
me at the restaurant at 9:00.

And when I got
there, Arturo, uh...

The maitre d' said
that Edward had called,

that he was just
leaving his office.

He had arranged...

To have my favorite
flowers waiting on the table,

and he asked Arturo to open
a bottle of my favorite wine.

And he never showed up.

Arturo was embarrassed
for me, and I was furious.

I guess I didn't know.

I didn't know that Edward...

Thank you, Miss Benton. I
know this is tough on you.

Her favorite flowers,
her favorite wine,

the maitre d's
special attention.

Lieutenant, in
your investigations,

have you ever heard of
a man committing suicide

after planning such
a romantic evening?

I can't say that I have.

But the night security guard
saw him go up on the roof alone,

and then he jumped.

I think that's all we need.

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.
Mrs. Fletcher, please stay.

He left a note.

It was addressed to you.

I'm sorry.

I really can't imagine
what drove him to it.

He was a jumper.
That's what jumpers do.

Do they also initial
farewell notes?

This is simply a memo,
from an editor to a writer.

Yeah, sure.

You want to tell me
what he was right about?

Look, Mrs. Fletcher, what
we pulled off a few years ago,

that's in the past.

Nailing Lieutenant Boyle.

But you stay out
of this one, okay?

Lieutenant, Edward was
a very dear friend of mine.

I'll do my very best.

Maybe this will come as
a surprise, Mrs. Fletcher,

but remember the dinner in
Connecticut where we met years ago?

I certainly do, Mr. Filbert.

Over one of Beth
Graham's fabulous meals.

Somehow, the talk
suddenly turned to wills.

I was being lawyerly. It's
a compulsion, I'm afraid.

Edward and Beth
were both newlyweds

who hadn't yet
made out their wills.

You may recall, I pointed out
the need of an alternate executor,

in case they both passed away.

Of course. And they chose me.

It seemed like a
joke at the time.

It was so long ago.

But you said yes,
and here we are.

The strange part is,

after all the reading-of-the-will
scenes that I've written,

I'm still not quite clear
about an executor's duties.

It's simple enough.

We start with Edward's will.

Oh!

I see it's been
updated with a codicil.

Containing the names and
addresses of all the heirs.

They all live in the city,

except for his late
wife's sister in Pittsburgh.

It's pretty routine.
Simple bequests.

Your job is to notify them by mail
or however you like, and that's it.

The rest goes to charity.

And there's an insurance policy
his employers purchased for him.

The insurance company
will take care of that.

So, how do you
want to handle it?

I suppose I'll just send his
sister-in-law a registered letter.

I can notify the
others in person.

His suicide...

I was shocked. Had he been ill?

I'm not sure.

After my dad passed away, I
felt disconnected from the world,

until I found Uncle Edward.

He gave me a family again.

His death must have
been a terrible shock.

It happened so fast.

It was like losing my
dad all over again.

He went just as quickly
when he had his heart attack.

Thank you for telling
me about his will.

I didn't expect to
be mentioned at all.

He must have left
you his stereo and CD

because they had some
special meaning to you.

They do. He didn't like
the kind of music I like.

He was always trying to
develop my taste for modern jazz.

I'll think of him whenever I
listen to Thelonious Monk.

This is a beautiful
piece of workmanship.

It's a tribute to a
watchmaker's skill

and to Edward's
impeccable taste.

I am overwhelmed, Mrs. Fletcher.

Well, he wanted you to have it.

It's touching.
It's very touching.

It's always hard
to lose a patient.

Especially to death.

Did he mention to you that he believed
his late wife spoke to him at night?

Mmm. Mrs. Fletcher, given your
writings, I'm sure you know that

I can't violate the
doctor-patient privilege.

Yes, of course.

But if he was convinced that
his wife was speaking to him...

Well, it's not uncommon.

I consider it a harmless
form of fantasizing.

A way of wishing his dead
wife back into his marriage bed.

I don't consider it important
or revealing, in any way,

of any underlying problem,
if that's what you're driving at.

Were you surprised when
Mr. Graham committed suicide?

As a psychiatrist, I'm rarely
surprised at anything that people do.

Even your patients?

I understand that
there is some thought

that it may not
have been suicide.

Mrs. Fletcher, are you
trying to push my buttons?

Oh, not at all. It's
simply natural curiosity.

Well, now, here is something that
I certainly never expected to see

in a psychiatrist's
office. A blender.

What an incredible
collection of herbs.

Do you make your
own salad dressing?

No, it's not, uh, sage,
rosemary and thyme.

This is part of an ancient and
newly-emerging medical tradition.

Would you like to
try my special blend?

Well, thanks, but
I better not today.

I really should be on my way.

Well, thank you again for delivering
this token of Edward's faith in me.

I shall treasure it always.

There is just one thing.

Mmm-hmm?

Can you possibly tell
me how Edward Graham

happened to become
a patient of yours?

In a wink of a bat's eye.

With this magical device here.

Yes, it was a referral
by one of my patients

who worked in the same
publishing company.

Steven DiNapoli.

His entire collection? Where in
the world am I going to put them?

Edward said you
admired his books.

Oh, I did. All of them. But you
should see my bookshelves.

I don't have room for a
postcard, forget about 400 books.

Well, I suppose the worst
thing that could happen

would be that you could
donate them to the public library.

I guess I'll leave
that option open.

Well, I wish Edward
were here to see

the results of his faith in me.

Ladies and gentlemen, the first
edition of a soon-to-be-classic

sequel to the original,
Pig On Roller Skates.

Congratulations, Carrie.

Thank you, very much.

Oh, Steve, I spoke
to Dr. Santana,

and he told me that
you sent Edward to him.

Yes, it was just
after his wife died.

Ed was trying to be stoical,

but he couldn't
concentrate on his work.

He was close to falling apart,

and I'd had some pretty
good luck with the guy.

I wanted to stop smoking,
but I couldn't break the habit.

A recovering nicotine addict
had turned me on to Santana.

His therapy was so boring
that I gave up smoking

so I didn't have to go
back to him anymore.

What was his treatment?

Ooh! Some really
loathsome health drinks,

and post-hypnotic suggestion.

Carrie, if you can get
away from the office,

I'd love to ride with
you up to Connecticut

and take a look at your house.

I don't have a
house in Connecticut.

You do now.

I'll explain on the way.

Oh, Jessica, it's beautiful.

I'm finally here,
but without Edward.

I'm sure he wanted
to be here with you.

What are we looking for?

Well, I'm not sure.

Anything that might shed
some light on what happened.

Oh. Dayton, Ohio postmark.

This must be Lori's letter.

The one she wrote
him after Beth died.

Well, Edward was right.
It is a very sweet letter.

Uh-oh.

Oh, great.

Wait. I think I saw
his flashlight in here.

Yep.

Just come with me
for a moment, Carrie.

I want to check
something in the kitchen.

Ah!

I thought so.

What's all that?

This is Dr. Santana's
prescription.

I'd like to take some samples,

if I can find a plastic bag.
Would you hold that, please?

Jessica, you think that the
doctor may have drugged him?

Well, I think it's certainly worth
considering, even if the police don't.

I'm going to put a little
in these plastic bags.

My God, why would...

There's someone in the house.

9-1-1.

Jessica, it's dead.

Up on the roof.

He's coming.

I think they're gone.

He's hiding, waiting for us.

Well, I would love to come back
and see the rest of the house,

preferably on a very sunny...

Where are you going?

Upstairs.

I want to find out what was
so interesting to that visitor.

Beth and Edward's room.

Well, it's wonderful. I
expected to find it trashed.

What's that?

Smells like wood putty.
It's used for filling holes.

It's still soft and fresh.

"And then there was
light." Thank goodness.

Is that a bullet hole?

Well, it looks as if someone
had drilled a hole here,

and then tried to
fill it with wood putty.

Why would someone drill a hole,
and then plug it up right away?

Well, maybe it
wasn't right away.

Maybe it was drilled before, and
it had already served its purpose.

I give up. What purpose?

Electrical wire.

Possibly leading to
some sort of a speaker?

Well, it'd have to be
pretty tiny to fit in that hole.

You know, a hearing aid is a
tiny amplifier and a speaker,

and it fits in the ear.

Well, why?

His wife's voice.

Hello.

Mrs. Fletcher?

Yes. Lieutenant Acosta.

I've been trying to get
back to you so long,

I thought maybe you left the
wrong number on my machine.

Did you find anything up there?

I certainly did.

Including some samples of the
ingredients in Dr. Santana's health drink.

You know, if your lab
analysis proves they contain

what I think they do,

you have the
doctor dead to rights.

That's an interesting
choice of words.

A cleaning lady let
herself into his apartment

at around 5:00 this afternoon,

and found him
bludgeoned to death.

Excuse me, I wonder
if you can tell me

where I might find
a friend of mine.

I believe he has an
office in this building.

His name is Jerry Santana.

Hi-flying Jer? Haven't
seen him in today.

If you want to leave a
message, I'll see he gets it.

Uh, no, thank you, but
I don't think that will do.

Forgive me, Mel, isn't it?

Look, I don't pretend to be an
interior decorator, or anything like that,

but I think that that pale green
looks like a hospital, don't you?

Now, my choice would be to use
the cerulean blue with a touch of white,

to get the green out of it,

and that will really
brighten everything up.

Hey, I bet you're right.

I'd have everybody in the
building second-guessing me.

Oh, isn't that just like Jer?

How's that?

Well, I loaned him my
ten-cup coffee maker.

Tonight's poker night, and
I've got the girls coming over.

Look, Mel, you don't suppose...

Down the hall, right at the
end. His name's on the door.

Just be sure to
lock it as you leave.

You saved my life, Mel. Thanks.

Yes, is Lieutenant Nick
Acosta there, please?

Right here, Mrs. Fletcher.

Never mind. Here he is.

Couldn't stay away, huh?

Nick, I am absolutely convinced

that Edward did
not commit suicide.

Hey, hey, call
off the artillery.

It just so happens,
I think you're right.

Lab reports came through on
those herbs you dropped by last night.

They would have been giving
him the worst anxiety attacks,

highs and lows.

Would have made him
vulnerable to suggestion.

And that gizmo in his
bed you told me about...

Beth's voice,
telling him to die.

You know, this morning I spoke to a
friend who knows about such things,

and he says there was
probably a pressure switch,

sensitive to Edward's
body movements.

So the voice was only
activated when he slept.

Well, what that
boils down to is,

the doc gave Graham a
psychological push off that roof.

Or just maybe
somebody pushed him.

And now, Santana.

Santana's watch and
wallet were missing.

And according to
the cleaning lady,

there were some priceless
antiques missing, as well.

A calculated murder, made to
look like a robbery in progress.

Possible.

At this point, I don't
know if Graham's death

and Santana's
murder connect or not.

But, at least, they
both went quick.

If I gotta go, a slow
death is not for me.

A slow death? Or was it?

Come again?

Oh, I'm sorry, Lieutenant.

You know, I think we have what
we need to solve both deaths

and find the person responsible.

Here.

Come on.

Hello. Central Park.

Ted, I'm glad I reached you.

Oh, Jessica. Hey, you're
missing a wonderful day.

Uh, by the way, your new
book will be on our Fall list,

and I'm sitting here
on a park bench,

letting the pigeons
decide the best cover for it.

Well, I hope that's
all they're doing.

Well, why don't you come
on over? I'll save you a seat.

And, uh, better pick up
some birdseed on the way.

Well, I wish I could.

Ted, the insurance policy the
company bought for Edward Graham

as in inducement for
him to come aboard...

Would you happen to know who
was the designated beneficiary?

Uh, not offhand, but I can
get back to you with that.

Good. And while you're
at it, perhaps you'll tell me

the dollar amount of the policy?

Who set up this meeting, anyway?

My secretary
said Hartley called.

I've got a writer
waiting in my office.

Steve, maybe you know.
What's all this about?

Just another turn of the screw.

Huh? Literary allusion.

I've never asked
you, do you read?

Hello, everyone. Hope
we didn't keep you waiting.

This is Ron Bayliss, from the
Claims Division of Grable Life.

Ron, what are you doing here?

Taking care of business.

I know most of you
expected to see Mr. Hartley,

but he had a
scheduling conflict,

and suggested that
we use Edward's office.

In a way, it's very fitting, because
this is about Edward Graham.

Must be his insurance policy.

Somebody is about
to get very lucky.

It is my duty to discharge
the Grable Life obligation

by presenting this check
for five million dollars

to Edward Graham's sole
beneficiary, Miss Lori Graham.

Five million?

Oh, my God.

I don't believe it.
I... You're sure?

Positive.

Miss Graham, do
you accept this check?

Yes, sir, I do.

I think I just
lost an assistant.

Well, you have, Steve, but
not quite the way you think.

Lieutenant Acosta!

Miss Graham, or
whatever your name is,

I have a Jane Doe warrant for
your arrest for insurance fraud.

You have the right
to remain silent.

What are you talking about?

He's talking about a clever plan

to take advantage of
Edward Graham's grief

and vulnerability
after his wife's death.

A plan that almost worked.

You're crazy. All of you.

This is my money.
Uncle Edward left it to me.

I have every right to it.

That's not exactly true.

You said something to me in
the park that stuck in my mind.

His death must have
been a terrible shock.

I happened so fast. It was like
losing my dad all over again.

He went just as quickly
when he had his heart attack.

It was only later
that I remembered

what Edward had told
me about his half-brother.

I lost track of Charles, until someone
from the family called me and told me

he died from some lingering
disease out in Oregon.

I never said that. You don't
know what you're talking about.

Wrong, Lori.

But there's a lot more to it,

and I'm sure that your
partner can fill in the details.

Right, Leonard?

Me? Mrs. Fletcher, I...

Let me tell you how it came
together for me, Leonard.

I was sitting at a
computer in Dr. Santana's

office, checking
his patient list

to see if there was anybody else
on it who was also in Graham's life.

There was. An L.
Ambler. You, Leonard.

What is this?

So you saw my
name on the computer.

That doesn't prove anything,
except that I was seeing a therapist.

Steve's name was there, too.

But only you had access to
Edward's insurance policy,

while Dr. Santana, through cunning
manipulation, had access to his mind,

and together, you
conspired to kill Edward.

Whether he jumped, or was
pushed, it was still murder.

And yesterday afternoon, I suspect
it was you who killed Santana,

so you wouldn't have to
share the insurance money.

This is outrageous...

Shut up. Let the
lady finish, Ambler.

After Beth Graham died,

you submitted to the
insurance company

the name of Edward's new
beneficiary, Lori Graham.

She's talkin' about this.

Graham gave me the
name. That's his signature.

Note the date. March, the 2nd.

Now, this is the letter that is
supposedly from Lori Graham

to her Uncle Edward.

Now, the postmark is
quite clear. March, the 5th.

In other words, Edward Graham
submitted the name of his niece

three days before
he ever heard of her.

Now, how do you
explain that, Leonard?

We checked the signature,
Leonard. It was forged.

Leonard Ambler, you're under
arrest for conspiring to commit murder.

With Dr. Santana, not with me.

I didn't have
anything to do with it.

I was an out-of-work actress.

Leonard met me while
I was waiting tables.

He asked me if I wanted to play
a part that would make me rich.

Be quiet, damn you!

The whole thing was his idea.

He had the doctor
brainwash Graham,

and then give him a code
he'd hear on the phone,

and do whatever he was told.

Like jump off the roof.

Getting a guy to commit
suicide was one thing.

But if he couldn't do it,
Leonard was ready for that, too.

Leonard did it!
He killed Graham,

and then he killed Dr. Santana, so
he wouldn't have to split the money.

They used me. I didn't
know what I was doing.

I doubt that.

Being an actress, it was
probably your voice on the tape,

urging Graham to kill himself.

Exactly.

Yes! Yes! Come on,
Steve! Come on in.

You can do it! Come
on in, come on in! Slide!

Slide! Slide! Out!

He was safe! Can't you see
a thing? The guy was safe!

He was safe! Out.

He was out.