Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 10, Episode 17 - The Dying Game - full transcript
In New York City to finalize a deal at the Museum of Contemporary Culture, Jessica finds herself trying to solve a murder. Her friend and fellow museum Board member Floyd Larkin, owner of the venerable Larkin's Department Store, is pre-occupied when someone is found murdered on the premises. Things seem to go from bad to worse when Laskin tells Jessica that he's backing out of his promised support for the Museum and is selling his store to a rival chain owned by Clint Halliwell. It's a bitter pill, especially for long-time employees who worry about their future. When Halliwell is also killed - by a crossbow - there is no shortage of possible suspects.
They don't build
them like this anymore.
I had to cover their
paper or lose everything.
I owe it to the
museum to fight you.
Borrow from the
Larkin plant now.
That's robbery.
I'm getting a
familiar feeling, Jess.
Like you know something I don't.
My lawyer told me to clam up.
I want you to date
Mr. Halliwell, Sharain.
You can put out, don't
put out, I really don't care.
Sharain's obvious charms couldn't
possibly hold the same interest for you
that they do for me.
Just whose side are
you on, Miss Gillis?
Am I sleeping with
the enemy? Yes, I am.
Hello, Halliwell here.
Yeah, it's Henry.
What do you have?
Okay, here it is.
Total current
assets, $26,300,700.
80% CDs and other negotiables.
Now, that much can
be liquid tomorrow.
But someone's cooked the
numbers, skimmed around 5 mill.
What are you saying?
Who the hell was it?
Impossible to tell who, but there are phony
balances from the banks and brokerages.
Are you sure? No,
no, no, I'm certain.
Someone's ripped off
the Larkin pension fund.
We have to find out who it is.
I'll be in touch.
Hello. Hello?
Who is this speaking, please?
Clint Halliwell.
Who the hell is this?
So I... I can't help you much
with Henry Wilson, Lieutenant.
Hmm.
But there is something.
Last night, someone
sabotaged the computer.
What do you mean, sabotaged?
Well, everything's garbled.
Sounds like somebody
installed a virus.
Maybe there's a connection. If
anything occurs to you, please call me.
Thanks, Miss Poulos.
You're welcome.
I don't know what the hell
you're so fired up about, Floyd.
Talk is talk.
There's nothing in
writing, is there? No, but...
Then what brought on this
sudden fit of conscience?
Is it something to do
with the tragedy out there?
No, though God knows I
will miss Henry Wilson keenly.
But Mrs. Fletcher's been a
good friend over the years.
I find it very difficult to tell
her I've changed my mind.
I thought you had bigger problems
than Mrs. Fletcher's museum.
Your personal financial
situation, for one.
Well, I guess the man knows
what he's doing, Thorney.
You misjudged the situation.
Excuse me,
gentlemen. Mr. Larkin?
I have a temporary office ready
for Mr. Halliwell and Mr. Brewer,
and their keys to the office
and executive elevator.
I don't think we'll
require them, Miss Gillis.
No, wait.
Clint, Mr. Brewer,
perhaps, somehow, I
can get Jessica to see it.
Have her understand
the way it is.
All right, Meredith,
take a good look around.
They don't build
them like this anymore.
I mean, look at those
Italian marble walls.
Thank goodness the
Museum of Cultural History
plans to preserve
it in all its glory.
You know, not just because
I'm a boardmember, Meredith,
but, I don't know,
this place holds
some very, very personal
memories for me, too.
Bill?
Jessica! It's great to see you!
Bill, this is Meredith Peckham.
She's the attorney who's
representing the museum.
Hi. Hi.
Come on, Meredith. You won't
see elevators like this anymore!
Good morning, Fritz.
Best of days to
you, Mrs. Fletcher.
Best of days! I could
use one of those.
Something wrong, Bill?
Henry Wilson, our chief accountant,
was found murdered this morning.
Oh! I'm so sorry.
On top of that, people
from Amalgamated
have been crawling all
over the building taking notes,
really checking the joint out.
Well, what are they doing here?
Tell me! There've
been ugly rumors.
Hello, Tina. Hi, Mrs. Fletcher.
Well, Mr. Macguire,
I've been waiting for you.
Appointment with the brass.
Maybe lunch later, huh?
Uh-huh.
Hello, Gloria.
Hello, Mrs. Fletcher.
Uh, this is Meredith Peckham,
we're here for Mr. Larkin.
Okay, it'll be just a few
minutes, Mrs. Fletcher.
Thank you.
Mrs. Fletcher? What
brings you here?
Well, hello! This is
Sharain Hourani, Meredith.
She's in my writing
seminar. Hello.
Another semester and
Sharain will be ready
to try the novel
she told me about.
Oh, I'm afraid I won't be able to
attend another semester, Mrs. Fletcher.
Oh? Well, I'm very
sorry to hear that. Why?
As you can see, we're going
out of business. And, um,
well, after next week, I don't know
where my next paycheck will come from.
Well, don't give up
the ship yet, Sharain.
No promises, but
Meredith and I are
representing the Museum
of Cultural History.
With jobs guaranteed for Larkin
personnel who wish to stay.
Oh! If that were possible...
Meredith and I hope to close
the deal with Floyd Larkin today.
Well, I have to go.
And I'll keep both
my fingers crossed!
I see a friend.
Jessica. I might've known.
A mysterious murder,
and your first question is...
How are your beets
doing in this weather?
Lieutenant Alan Terwilliger,
this is Meredith Peckham.
Hello. Hello.
Al and I are both gardeners and
we compete in a friendly sort of way.
Come on, you
know it's all-out war!
Mr. Larkin's ready to see
you now, Mrs. Fletcher.
Thank you, Gloria.
I'll see you later.
Now just hold your
temper, Macguire.
The fact is, you're eight
years into a 10-year note,
and haven't paid a dime
of principle or interest.
That was my arrangement with
Mr. Larkin. A no-interest loan.
He solved my problem the
same way he has everyone's.
We're a family here!
$15,000 in bridal and trousseau?
It meant everything to Kathleen,
that Ruth, that's our daughter,
had a proper wedding and
some furniture to get her started.
I see you own your own house,
free and clear. Well, that's good.
I mean, that's
ready cash at any...
That house goes to
the kids, free and clear.
This has something to do with
this Amalgamated thing, doesn't it?
Well, we have every confidence
that the acquisition will go
through before the weekend.
That's strictly
confidential, of course.
But at that point, Mr. Macguire,
I'm afraid this loan must be
paid in full. And that'll be all.
No, that won't be all. I'm
going to talk to Mr. Larkin.
Oh, you do that.
But Floyd, we had a fully
worked-out understanding!
Our letter of agreement met all of
your concerns. We shook hands!
You are aware that the
Museum of Cultural History
has invested heavily
in permits and surveys,
to say nothing of the negative
publicity this may incur.
Excuse me, Meredith.
Floyd, I want to hear from you.
I mean, these other gentlemen
have done most of the talking.
I am truly sorry, Jessica.
But my present financial
condition leaves me no alternative.
Then you have made up your mind.
Oh, I think hard dollars made
up his mind for him, Mrs. Fletcher.
Floyd gets 5 million for himself
on signing with Amalgamated.
I have made up my mind.
I see.
The museum guaranteed the
Larkin employees' job security.
Well, if the remaining employees
measure up, they'll have the option
to become part of
the Halliwell family.
If they measure up.
An oral agreement is
binding in New York.
There is such a thing
as injunctive relief.
I'll be in touch.
Midnight Friday, Amalgamated takes
over this building on your signature
under the terms stipulated,
or we junk the deal.
You know, some weirdo got me up
after midnight on the phone last night.
Wanted to know who I
was. Wasn't you, was it?
Hell, no.
Have I lost a friend?
No, Floyd but I can't
say I'm not disappointed.
I sent you an invitation to
the farewell party Friday night.
Will you be there?
Under the circumstances,
I don't think so.
I got into a mall deal, Jess.
My good-as-gold
partners went belly up.
I had to cover their
paper or lose everything.
I owe it to the
museum to fight you.
You do what you
have to do, Jess.
I won't hold it against you.
Tomorrow, Glo? What time?
Call first thing. I'll
squeeze you in, I promise.
First thing, right.
Jess, I'm sorry,
but Ernie's on loan
and we have to inventory this
whole place by tomorrow afternoon.
We both have more
problems than we can handle.
How about a rain
check? On our lunch date?
That's quite okay, Bill.
I've got lots to do myself.
Well, this is a
very familiar face.
Clint Halliwell, right?
The deerstalker,
into the dying game.
Assassin of all
that's good and true.
Knock it off, Fishman!
It's job anxiety.
Don't bet on anything
you hear, Ernie.
I'll bet on you, Mrs. Fletcher.
If you have the time, go down to
the basement. The wedding bower.
It's my swan song, and it
won't be there much longer.
Ernie's into weddings
and family things like that.
He's saving to open a bridal
boutique on Madison Avenue.
From your mouth to
God's ear, Bill, right?
Hello again, Mrs.
Fletcher. Sharain.
Got to rush. Lunch.
I promised I'd introduce the lady
to a sushi place down the block.
Damn it, Clint. Just
read the subpoena!
A week from Monday, the
SEC gets into our books.
Why the hell isn't
she answering?
The ceiling's coming down and he's
calling some shop girl! Are you listening?
They say we've been
milking stockholder assets.
Then fix it, Thorney.
That's what you're paid for.
Not this time.
They're your personal interests.
Not our stockholders', not mine.
What the hell
are you getting at?
Clint,
a lot of guys are
doing time right now
for exactly what I have been
stupid enough to go along with.
I'm not going to be one of them.
So you'll blow the whistle? After
all these years, huh, Thorney?
Listen, I'll tell you
what we'll do, okay?
The Larkin pension plan's worth
26.3 million and change, 80% liquid.
How do you know that?
Don't worry about
how I know, just listen.
Under the deal, our plan merges
with theirs come November.
So, we fudge it till then,
borrow from the Larkin plant now.
You have gone out of
your mind. That's robbery!
Hello. ERNIE: Mrs. Fletcher?
Ernie?
I'm very sorry for calling so late,
but I just came from the police station.
Oh, oh, I wasn't asleep, Ernie. What
in the world were you doing there?
They arrested Bill Macguire
for Henry Wilson's murder.
I promised him I'd call you.
Good heavens! Bill?
Poor guy, he doesn't
know what's happening!
Listen, Ernie, you go home
and get a good night's sleep,
and I'll see what I can do
first thing in the morning.
I mean, the guy was
into Larkin's for 15,000.
Two weeks ago, Wilson called
him on it. The heat was on.
Yes, but, look, Al, you're holding
Bill under the flimsiest motives!
Well, let me finish, okay?
The murder weapon, the hatchet,
came from Macguire's department
and had his fingerprints on it.
Well, I should
certainly hope so.
He ran the department
for 20 years!
The same night that
Wilson was killed,
somebody bollixed the store computer,
destroying any record of Macguire's debt.
And here, here is...
Here's the real kicker.
Wilson died close to 10:45 p.m.
At 11:00, a ground floor security
guard saw Macguire leave the rear exit.
None of this makes any sense.
Least of all, Floyd Larkin allowing
an employee and a friend like Bill
to be blindsided on the loan.
Jess, I hear Larkin went back on his
word to you about the museum deal.
Couldn't Macguire have
changed his stripes, too?
Floyd.
Tina! How are things going?
Things stink.
Your department manager's
in the slammer for murder.
And look around you.
Everything that made this
store is being trucked out,
like its life's blood is
seeping from the building.
You always put things
in such fanciful terms.
So I'm a romantic.
Didn't hurt in the
Bahamas, did it?
Oh, don't worry, I'm not
building any castles on that week.
That week was good, Tina,
but we had to come back,
and suddenly there were
just too many pressures.
Those pressures
used to turn you on!
Floyd, there was a time that you would've
told these Amalgamated muckety-mucks
to take their pipe racks
and sleazy ads and stick it.
Tina, please... No, listen.
What made this old place
so strong was service.
Integrity.
It came from your dad and your
granddad before him and from you, Floyd.
You're throwing
Larkin's to the wolves!
I have to know what's going on.
Macguire said that our pension
plan is going to become part of theirs.
What? What does Bill
know about things like that?
I don't know. But as a
trustee, it's my business.
The pension plan is
as good as gold, Tina.
Like your handshake
with Macguire?
Like your museum
deal with Mrs. Fletcher?
That's going up in dust
with everything else.
It's going to be all right.
Believe me. Please.
My lawyer told me to clam up,
but I'll tell you, if you promise...
I promise.
Yeah, I was in the store
the night Wilson died.
In a meeting with
Wilson, I smelled a rat.
You mean, as if he knew
that changes were coming?
You got it.
So I tailed him
for a few nights.
Last week, I caught him in this ritzy
uptown joint with Halliwell and Brewer
and I started to
put things together.
The other night in the store, I
was waiting for Wilson to leave
so I could tail him again.
But he never showed up.
Was anybody with you at closing
the night that Wilson
was murdered?
Sure, Ernie Fishman.
I think I'd better
talk to Ernie.
Well, he'll be in my department or
in that nutsy wedding bower of his.
Just go left off the elevator.
I'd walk you down
myself, but, uh...
I know, Bill. And
I'll keep in touch.
Miss Hourani!
Hello, Mr. Halliwell.
Well, is that all you've got to say to
the man who sent you a dozen roses
every day for a week?
"Hello, Mr. Halliwell?"
They were very beautiful.
Now, please excuse me.
Oh, I don't give up quite
that easily, Miss Hourani.
Now, just listen for a
moment. I don't bite.
One of my pleasures in life is
being with a beautiful woman,
such as yourself, and
seeing that she's taken care of.
Her job situation in particular,
and in other more
interesting ways.
I'm not interested,
Mr. Halliwell.
Now, please.
Now, Sharain, your
mouth is saying one thing,
but your eyes are
saying something else.
Like, "What have I got to lose?"
You're wrong! Please, let me go!
You asked for me, Mr. Brewer?
Yes, Miss Gillis.
What'd you have
in mind, my love?
Ooh! It's cold in
here all of a sudden!
Sorry, but we're both going to
have to pay a little more attention
to our behavior patterns.
I'm sorry?
You have a fabulous
opportunity here, Maude.
With Amalgamated, with me.
More money, more position.
But there's something you have to
remember about our esteemed chairman.
Oh, go on.
Clint likes the women
around him to be...
Well, submissive.
He has an almost paranoid loathing
for aggressive, ambitious females.
I'm sorry, but that's
the only way I can put it.
You mean he prefers them
obsequious and fawning,
more like his male assistants?
Maude... Oh, come on, Thornton,
take a good look
at yourself, will you?
You're picking up the guy's underwear!
You're picking up the guy's socks!
I'm sorry.
Thornton, I am sorry. I've
had a bad day, and it's not true.
You've made this
company what it is.
He misuses you
and you cover for him.
I'm sorry. Do you forgive me?
Do you? Do you?
Forgiven.
I can't wait for
tonight, darling.
Oh! Miss Hourani.
I almost forgot.
I'm sorry, Miss Gillis, but
I had to talk to someone.
Not at all. Come on. Tell
me what's troubling you.
Thank you. It's
about Mr. Halliwell.
He's causing me great trouble.
So I've heard.
Then, as another woman,
you will understand my position.
There are those women who
might welcome that kind of affair,
but I am not one of them.
Is it a sexual harassment
suit you're intending, then?
No! No! No.
I have to keep
working, Miss Gillis.
That is all it is. I have
a mother to support.
She's ill and doesn't
speak English.
Then you've still got your job.
And when Amalgamated gets this
white elephant up and running again,
you'll be Cosmetics
Manager with a 30% raise.
Thank you.
Certain conditions, of course.
Conditions?
I want you to date
Mr. Halliwell, Sharain.
You can put out, don't
put out, I really don't care.
I want you to watch what he does,
who he talks to, where he goes,
and then you'll report back to
me, okay? No games, mind you.
I don't... I don't
think I can do that.
Oh, all right.
Then I suppose I'm going to
have to put this to you another way.
The Larkin personnel files
will be carefully
scrutinized by Amalgamated
as they would be by
any other employer.
Certain information
could crop up.
Your own record, for instance,
when you were a teenager?
A temp salesperson in
the lingerie department?
I was very surprised to read, there
was a little matter of employee theft.
But I was young and
stupid, Miss Gillis!
Mr. Larkin, he spoke
to me. He forgave me.
It never happened again!
Funny. I don't see
that in the record.
I thought I knew Judge Gracey.
I figured the injunction
was a lead-pipe cinch,
but somebody with more
muscle than I must've got to him.
Well, we both know who that is.
I'm sorry about your
friend, Bill Macguire.
But what's he got to do with
Floyd reneging on our deal?
Halliwell and Amalgamated
have to do with it, Meredith.
Look, isn't there any
kind of legal half nelson
you can pull out of your sleeve?
I was talking to a broker
friend of mine this morning.
He said there's a rumor that
Amalgamated are in trouble
with the Securities and
Exchange Commissioner.
Jess, I'm a one-woman office
against the best lawyers in the country.
Well, look who's here.
Mr. Halliwell.
You had your wings
clipped. That'll happen.
My guys had bigger
guns, that's all.
Sharain?
He's the worst kind of pig,
but he sure can pick 'em.
Are you really willing to
lose to someone like that?
No, damn it! I'll do what
I can do. No promises.
But we will go down fighting!
Right.
Well, nice to see
you, Mr. Halliwell.
Ernie?
Bill said you'd
be putting it away.
You saw him, then?
Great! You think...
I think he's innocent, Ernie.
I just hope that I
can help to prove it.
Me, too.
It's hard. I can't let
somebody else mess with it.
The bride, isn't she about
the prettiest you've ever seen?
She's lovely.
I call her Sharain. Mmm-hmm.
Can you guess the groom?
Ernie Fishman, maybe?
Ernie, the guns
in Bill's department
were going out tonight,
but what about the hatchets?
Non-lethal, Mrs. Fletcher. They're
listed under stuff like fishing gear,
camping, archery,
you know, hobbies.
Non-lethal. I like that,
considering it was a hatchet
that killed Henry Wilson.
Would it have been missed
from the inventory last night?
No. No, or else Mr. Macguire
would've flagged it.
And sporting goods is closed every
night because of the guns and ammunition.
So, the hatchet
that killed Mr. Wilson
may have been taken from the
department after it was locked.
Yeah, like I told the police.
Who has keys to the department?
Uh, just the department
manager and the brass.
The brass?
Mr. Larkin, I guess.
Tina Poulos, Maude Gillis.
There must be a
number of others.
Al? Oh, I'm glad
I caught you in.
Listen, I just
came from Larkin's
and I have a bunch of
interesting questions.
Jess, I was almost out the door.
Yeah, well, give
me a moment, Al.
Have you asked yourself what Henry
Wilson was doing in Maude Gillis' office
the night that he was murdered?
Because it's my theory that he was
acting as a mole for Amalgamated.
In which case...
Now, whoa, whoa! Look,
uh, can this wait, Jess?
Upside, I've just wangled an
invitation to the Larkin's farewell party.
So I get to know some
of the players better.
Downside, I got to dash out
of here and get into my tux.
Yeah, well, it's not my first
choice, under the circumstances,
but, on second thought,
maybe I'll see you there.
It'll give me one last crack at
Floyd. Save me a dance, Al.
You got it!
Oh, my gosh!
So I'll concede the point, Jess.
Maybe Wilson was
Halliwell's mole.
Well, how about conceding
that the killer must've had a key
to the sporting
goods department?
You're making my
case against Macguire.
Well, keys can
easily be duplicated.
If Bill killed Wilson,
why did he allow himself to be identified
so blatantly by the security guard?
I'm getting a
familiar feeling, Jess.
Like you know something I don't.
Wait a minute. I have to
find a phone. Excuse me.
Take a last look
around, Mrs. Fletcher.
They'll lower the ceilings,
put in their fluorescent lights.
Paint over the murals,
and start peddling
their low-end schlock.
Your lieutenant sends his regrets.
He had to go back to the precinct.
Thank you, Ernie.
Stop fretting. Something's
held up Sharain, that's all.
Oh, Larkin. So
changing the guard, huh?
Oh, Ernie! Ernie,
I'm so sorry, but...
Forget it. I was wondering
what kept you, now I know.
Don't you... Fishman!
Sharain's told me all about you.
You're the window dresser.
What, are you angry
about something, Ernie?
I can't think why. An
artiste like yourself,
Sharain's obvious charms couldn't
possibly hold the same interest for you
that they do for me, hmm? Hmm.
I hope you don't mean that
the way it sounds, Mr. Halliwell.
I'll be plainer.
I don't think you'd know
what to do with Sharain
under the best of circumstances.
Ernie!
What's going on over there?
Ernie. Ernie, I'm so
sorry. This is all my fault.
Are you okay?
God, how could you?
No, but, Ernie, he...
Mrs. Fletcher, he made me do it.
It's all right. It's all right.
I'd like a Scotch,
please. Yes, sir.
Oh, Thorney, Miss Gillis.
There's a call for you on
the store phone, Mr. Halliwell.
You're riding a dead
horse, Miss Gillis.
Or hasn't he told you?
Or maybe... The horse
doesn't know he's dead yet!
Giddyup, Thorney!
Hello.
I'll meet you down there. Yeah.
Ernie, please. Ernie,
please, let me talk to you.
Ernie!
Hmm.
Over this way, Mr. Halliwell.
Where the hell are you?
Right here, Mr. Halliwell
Floyd, is there somewhere
we could talk in private?
If this is about the
museum, it's too late, Jess.
Well, it may not be!
Look, I know that Halliwell gave
you till tonight for the deadline.
But I have a hunch
that if you hang tough,
he'll go for a postponement.
It's too late, Jess, for me,
for the store, for the museum.
The deceased was
discovered by the security staff
approximately 7:30 this a.m.
To Forensics right away.
The murder weapon was part of
the inventory from sporting goods.
Three floors...
Three? Three floors up.
Security says it had to have
happened after 3:00 a.m.
Any idea what
they were after? No.
This was all very personal, very
sensitive information about our employees.
God! It's going to take weeks
to straighten everything out.
Excuse me.
Jessica, I'm sorry to
have to bring you in.
Don't even think about it, Al.
The whole thing is monstrous.
Do you want my
deposition here or...
No, you give it to me. Okay.
Yeah, we figure this... This got
smashed at the time of death.
10:33 last night. Okay.
Might not mean much, but we found this
hanging out of a trash bin in the basement.
Now, that is the
deerstalker's outfit.
There's something I can't
quite put my finger on about that.
What's with deerstalker?
He's into the dying game.
Get that to Forensics.
Well, has any of this changed
your mind about Bill Macguire?
I'm sorry, no.
Phone company turned
up something odd, though.
A call to Halliwell's cellular
phone about 10:45 that night,
and then a second one at 11:03.
Both from Maude Gillis's office.
The second after
Wilson was dead.
Al, that must've been the call Halliwell
was complaining about the next morning.
He said he got a call
at his hotel late at night
by someone who was
asking who he was?
Dumb question. Man or woman?
All he said was some weirdo.
That covers a whole
lot of New York City.
Yeah.
I got a call from Forensics
j just before we left.
They got a mess of
fingerprints off the file break-in.
And, what's more
important, on the crossbow.
At least you can't pin either one
of those incidents on Bill Macguire.
He was in custody.
Right. There's another
killer out there somewhere
and I'm betting the
perp who killed Halliwell
was also responsible
for the break-in.
I'll have a make on those
prints within the hour.
Do me a favor, Al. Call me.
Sure, Jess.
Al! I can't believe my ears!
You actually believe that
Ernie Fishman killed Halliwell?
Fishman's prints were
all over the crossbow
and the bolt that
killed Halliwell.
Well, good heavens,
Al, he set up the display!
Look, it's no secret he was
obsessed about Larkin's.
Well, and so are a
lot of other people!
But loving a place is no
reason to murder someone.
Look, the kid had a
knockdown-dragout with Halliwell.
He's got his mitts all over
the employee file break-in, too.
As if that has anything
to do with murder.
Look, Al, if I see
him, I'll let you know.
Goodbye.
I have a question
or two for you, Ernie,
but let's let Sharain
finish her side first.
Well, there isn't much
more, Mrs. Fletcher.
Mr. Halliwell didn't want
to go to the dinner party,
so we were to have dinner at a
restaurant and wait there for Mr. Larkin.
A few moments'
business, he said,
and then he was going
to take me to his hotel.
I refused to go.
I'm sure of that.
So, Mr. Larkin showed up and...
They went to
another table, arguing.
I couldn't hear everything they were
saying, but it was something about
the pension plan and
a lot of money missing.
Then Mr. Larkin left.
All right. Your turn, Ernie.
Why did you trash
the personnel files?
Sharain told me what Maude
Gillis was holding over her, so...
I made sure the employee files
found their way to
the city dump, that's all.
And what time was this?
After the party.
Somewhere around 3:00.
Window dressers have a
night key. I dodged security.
Uh, start where
it matters, Ernie.
Halliwell was killed at 10:33.
I wanted to tell
him I was sorry.
He took the express
elevator to the basement,
and I followed him. I
found Halliwell dead.
After the fight, if
anyone saw me...
Well, I figured I'd
better get out of there.
Halliwell's body.
That's all you saw?
Think hard, Ernie!
In mannequin storage,
it struck me odd
that somebody'd stripped the
deerstalker of his clothes. I sure didn't.
The deerstalker's clothes!
Of course, now I remember what
was missing. It was the mosquito mask!
Uh, finish your sandwich, Ernie,
then call Lieutenant Terwilliger.
Turn myself in?
Trust me. I think I
know who murdered
both Henry Wilson
and Clint Halliwell.
Oh, Miss Gillis,
uh, is Floyd around?
No, we're closing,
Mrs. Fletcher.
I believe he left about half
an hour ago. Still at it, huh?
For a successful novelist,
you certainly put a lot of heart
into your fight for a museum.
Oh, by the same token, you
seem to have a lot at stake
in the Amalgamated acquisition.
If you mean, am I sleeping
with the enemy? Yes, I am.
Then, just whose side
are you on, Miss Gillis?
You know, I find that really rather
a naive question, Mrs. Fletcher.
I was spawned on two generations
of feminist icons, don't forget.
Steinem, Friedan.
Damn it, somebody's
using the express!
The old boys' network is rotting
from within, or hadn't you noticed?
I'm ready to take
my place over losers
like Floyd Larkin, Halliwell
and Thornton Brewer.
And to get from here to
there, whatever it takes?
Something like that. Good night.
Mrs. Fletcher.
Hi, Tina.
If you're looking for
Floyd, he went off earlier.
No, actually, I was looking for someone
to take me down to the bridal bower.
The police cordon is off now,
and there's something down there
I'd like to take a
second look at.
Still looking for a clue
to spring Bill Macguire?
How about it?
No. Sorry.
Those killings have given
me nightmares enough
without poking around the scene
of the crime. I'm going home.
Good night. Night.
No, the thing you call a
mosquito mask never turned up.
Well, then we've
got to find it, Al.
Jess, why am I getting
the creepy feeling
you're putting your pretty head into
something that might be dangerous?
Look, don't "pretty head" me, Terwilliger.
Anyway, you know me better than that.
Point made. Your, uh...
Ernie Fishman called.
But when I sent some guys
over to your place to pick him up,
he'd gone south.
Al, I'll be in the basement.
I walked back up and heard you
on the phone with the Lieutenant.
You were up to
something, I was curious.
Did you find what
you were looking for?
Yes, Tina, I did.
Actually, I expected to
find something missing.
And here it is.
The spot where the mesh was torn
away and caught in the service pin.
One of the Larkin people?
So, you figured it all out.
Oh, there are still
a lot of gaps, Tina.
For one, I can only guess that
Wilson and Halliwell's murders
both had something to do with the
condition of the Larkin pension plan.
And as one of the trustees, I
would've known all about that.
Mmm-hmm.
Then there were two late-night
phone calls to Halliwell's hotel.
I suspect it was a
call from someone
who wanted to know whom
Wilson had phoned moments earlier,
telling Halliwell of a large sum
missing from the pension plan.
Knowing that, the killer had
to do away with Halliwell, too,
then destroy the
store computer records.
So you've got the
picture, Mrs. Fletcher.
Please, call your lieutenant
friend. Let's get this over with.
You're a very brave woman, Tina.
But not quite clever enough
to assume Floyd's guilt.
Floyd? Have you lost your mind?
I think Jessica's
way ahead of us both.
I was down here
to retrieve this.
You beat me to it.
Tina, it's no use.
Halliwell threatened to make
my embezzlement public,
unless I allowed him to rape the
Larkin plan to cover his own excesses.
At the party, I paged him. I
told him to meet me in the bower,
that I would sign
our deal there.
I took the express elevator down,
giving myself plenty of time to prepare.
When I heard Ernie Fishman coming,
I had everything off except the mask.
I panicked. I didn't
notice until later,
but then I realized that you,
Jessica, must have seen it at the party.
The piece of mosquito
netting caught on my pin.
I told myself
that I was temporarily borrowing
to cover those business
losses I told you about.
With my signature on
Amalgamated's acquisition of the store,
I would have Halliwell's 5 million
to reimburse the pension fund.
Halliwell had bigger ideas.
Yes. He would've
destroyed the pension.
Destroyed the financial security
of the very people who'd
given this store its name.
Jessica, you okay?
Yes, thanks for coming, Al.
Miss Poulos, Mr. Larkin.
Floyd will want to
talk to you about the
murders of Henry
Wilson and Clint Halliwell.
Mr. Larkin.
It's just beautiful, Sharain.
Congratulations to both of you.
It's hard to believe what's
happened in the past three months.
Yeah, well, we wanted to
share our good fortune with you.
I open a bridal boutique on
Madison Avenue next month.
And thanks to you,
I finish my museum
docent training tomorrow.
Oh, which reminds me, look
what just came from the printer's.
That's nice! It's beautiful!
Go on, Sharain.
There's one more reason for
us to celebrate, Mrs. Fletcher.
Sharain, you mean
you're... Yes! Whoa!
Isn't that wonderful!
Oh, my goodness, I'm sure
somebody's already asked you,
but what are you
going to call her?
Him, him, Mrs. Fletcher.
And he'll be called...
Ibrahim, after my grandfather.
Abraham, after my grandfather.
Ibrahim Abraham Fishman.
I wonder, is there
really any difference,
except for the spelling?
them like this anymore.
I had to cover their
paper or lose everything.
I owe it to the
museum to fight you.
Borrow from the
Larkin plant now.
That's robbery.
I'm getting a
familiar feeling, Jess.
Like you know something I don't.
My lawyer told me to clam up.
I want you to date
Mr. Halliwell, Sharain.
You can put out, don't
put out, I really don't care.
Sharain's obvious charms couldn't
possibly hold the same interest for you
that they do for me.
Just whose side are
you on, Miss Gillis?
Am I sleeping with
the enemy? Yes, I am.
Hello, Halliwell here.
Yeah, it's Henry.
What do you have?
Okay, here it is.
Total current
assets, $26,300,700.
80% CDs and other negotiables.
Now, that much can
be liquid tomorrow.
But someone's cooked the
numbers, skimmed around 5 mill.
What are you saying?
Who the hell was it?
Impossible to tell who, but there are phony
balances from the banks and brokerages.
Are you sure? No,
no, no, I'm certain.
Someone's ripped off
the Larkin pension fund.
We have to find out who it is.
I'll be in touch.
Hello. Hello?
Who is this speaking, please?
Clint Halliwell.
Who the hell is this?
So I... I can't help you much
with Henry Wilson, Lieutenant.
Hmm.
But there is something.
Last night, someone
sabotaged the computer.
What do you mean, sabotaged?
Well, everything's garbled.
Sounds like somebody
installed a virus.
Maybe there's a connection. If
anything occurs to you, please call me.
Thanks, Miss Poulos.
You're welcome.
I don't know what the hell
you're so fired up about, Floyd.
Talk is talk.
There's nothing in
writing, is there? No, but...
Then what brought on this
sudden fit of conscience?
Is it something to do
with the tragedy out there?
No, though God knows I
will miss Henry Wilson keenly.
But Mrs. Fletcher's been a
good friend over the years.
I find it very difficult to tell
her I've changed my mind.
I thought you had bigger problems
than Mrs. Fletcher's museum.
Your personal financial
situation, for one.
Well, I guess the man knows
what he's doing, Thorney.
You misjudged the situation.
Excuse me,
gentlemen. Mr. Larkin?
I have a temporary office ready
for Mr. Halliwell and Mr. Brewer,
and their keys to the office
and executive elevator.
I don't think we'll
require them, Miss Gillis.
No, wait.
Clint, Mr. Brewer,
perhaps, somehow, I
can get Jessica to see it.
Have her understand
the way it is.
All right, Meredith,
take a good look around.
They don't build
them like this anymore.
I mean, look at those
Italian marble walls.
Thank goodness the
Museum of Cultural History
plans to preserve
it in all its glory.
You know, not just because
I'm a boardmember, Meredith,
but, I don't know,
this place holds
some very, very personal
memories for me, too.
Bill?
Jessica! It's great to see you!
Bill, this is Meredith Peckham.
She's the attorney who's
representing the museum.
Hi. Hi.
Come on, Meredith. You won't
see elevators like this anymore!
Good morning, Fritz.
Best of days to
you, Mrs. Fletcher.
Best of days! I could
use one of those.
Something wrong, Bill?
Henry Wilson, our chief accountant,
was found murdered this morning.
Oh! I'm so sorry.
On top of that, people
from Amalgamated
have been crawling all
over the building taking notes,
really checking the joint out.
Well, what are they doing here?
Tell me! There've
been ugly rumors.
Hello, Tina. Hi, Mrs. Fletcher.
Well, Mr. Macguire,
I've been waiting for you.
Appointment with the brass.
Maybe lunch later, huh?
Uh-huh.
Hello, Gloria.
Hello, Mrs. Fletcher.
Uh, this is Meredith Peckham,
we're here for Mr. Larkin.
Okay, it'll be just a few
minutes, Mrs. Fletcher.
Thank you.
Mrs. Fletcher? What
brings you here?
Well, hello! This is
Sharain Hourani, Meredith.
She's in my writing
seminar. Hello.
Another semester and
Sharain will be ready
to try the novel
she told me about.
Oh, I'm afraid I won't be able to
attend another semester, Mrs. Fletcher.
Oh? Well, I'm very
sorry to hear that. Why?
As you can see, we're going
out of business. And, um,
well, after next week, I don't know
where my next paycheck will come from.
Well, don't give up
the ship yet, Sharain.
No promises, but
Meredith and I are
representing the Museum
of Cultural History.
With jobs guaranteed for Larkin
personnel who wish to stay.
Oh! If that were possible...
Meredith and I hope to close
the deal with Floyd Larkin today.
Well, I have to go.
And I'll keep both
my fingers crossed!
I see a friend.
Jessica. I might've known.
A mysterious murder,
and your first question is...
How are your beets
doing in this weather?
Lieutenant Alan Terwilliger,
this is Meredith Peckham.
Hello. Hello.
Al and I are both gardeners and
we compete in a friendly sort of way.
Come on, you
know it's all-out war!
Mr. Larkin's ready to see
you now, Mrs. Fletcher.
Thank you, Gloria.
I'll see you later.
Now just hold your
temper, Macguire.
The fact is, you're eight
years into a 10-year note,
and haven't paid a dime
of principle or interest.
That was my arrangement with
Mr. Larkin. A no-interest loan.
He solved my problem the
same way he has everyone's.
We're a family here!
$15,000 in bridal and trousseau?
It meant everything to Kathleen,
that Ruth, that's our daughter,
had a proper wedding and
some furniture to get her started.
I see you own your own house,
free and clear. Well, that's good.
I mean, that's
ready cash at any...
That house goes to
the kids, free and clear.
This has something to do with
this Amalgamated thing, doesn't it?
Well, we have every confidence
that the acquisition will go
through before the weekend.
That's strictly
confidential, of course.
But at that point, Mr. Macguire,
I'm afraid this loan must be
paid in full. And that'll be all.
No, that won't be all. I'm
going to talk to Mr. Larkin.
Oh, you do that.
But Floyd, we had a fully
worked-out understanding!
Our letter of agreement met all of
your concerns. We shook hands!
You are aware that the
Museum of Cultural History
has invested heavily
in permits and surveys,
to say nothing of the negative
publicity this may incur.
Excuse me, Meredith.
Floyd, I want to hear from you.
I mean, these other gentlemen
have done most of the talking.
I am truly sorry, Jessica.
But my present financial
condition leaves me no alternative.
Then you have made up your mind.
Oh, I think hard dollars made
up his mind for him, Mrs. Fletcher.
Floyd gets 5 million for himself
on signing with Amalgamated.
I have made up my mind.
I see.
The museum guaranteed the
Larkin employees' job security.
Well, if the remaining employees
measure up, they'll have the option
to become part of
the Halliwell family.
If they measure up.
An oral agreement is
binding in New York.
There is such a thing
as injunctive relief.
I'll be in touch.
Midnight Friday, Amalgamated takes
over this building on your signature
under the terms stipulated,
or we junk the deal.
You know, some weirdo got me up
after midnight on the phone last night.
Wanted to know who I
was. Wasn't you, was it?
Hell, no.
Have I lost a friend?
No, Floyd but I can't
say I'm not disappointed.
I sent you an invitation to
the farewell party Friday night.
Will you be there?
Under the circumstances,
I don't think so.
I got into a mall deal, Jess.
My good-as-gold
partners went belly up.
I had to cover their
paper or lose everything.
I owe it to the
museum to fight you.
You do what you
have to do, Jess.
I won't hold it against you.
Tomorrow, Glo? What time?
Call first thing. I'll
squeeze you in, I promise.
First thing, right.
Jess, I'm sorry,
but Ernie's on loan
and we have to inventory this
whole place by tomorrow afternoon.
We both have more
problems than we can handle.
How about a rain
check? On our lunch date?
That's quite okay, Bill.
I've got lots to do myself.
Well, this is a
very familiar face.
Clint Halliwell, right?
The deerstalker,
into the dying game.
Assassin of all
that's good and true.
Knock it off, Fishman!
It's job anxiety.
Don't bet on anything
you hear, Ernie.
I'll bet on you, Mrs. Fletcher.
If you have the time, go down to
the basement. The wedding bower.
It's my swan song, and it
won't be there much longer.
Ernie's into weddings
and family things like that.
He's saving to open a bridal
boutique on Madison Avenue.
From your mouth to
God's ear, Bill, right?
Hello again, Mrs.
Fletcher. Sharain.
Got to rush. Lunch.
I promised I'd introduce the lady
to a sushi place down the block.
Damn it, Clint. Just
read the subpoena!
A week from Monday, the
SEC gets into our books.
Why the hell isn't
she answering?
The ceiling's coming down and he's
calling some shop girl! Are you listening?
They say we've been
milking stockholder assets.
Then fix it, Thorney.
That's what you're paid for.
Not this time.
They're your personal interests.
Not our stockholders', not mine.
What the hell
are you getting at?
Clint,
a lot of guys are
doing time right now
for exactly what I have been
stupid enough to go along with.
I'm not going to be one of them.
So you'll blow the whistle? After
all these years, huh, Thorney?
Listen, I'll tell you
what we'll do, okay?
The Larkin pension plan's worth
26.3 million and change, 80% liquid.
How do you know that?
Don't worry about
how I know, just listen.
Under the deal, our plan merges
with theirs come November.
So, we fudge it till then,
borrow from the Larkin plant now.
You have gone out of
your mind. That's robbery!
Hello. ERNIE: Mrs. Fletcher?
Ernie?
I'm very sorry for calling so late,
but I just came from the police station.
Oh, oh, I wasn't asleep, Ernie. What
in the world were you doing there?
They arrested Bill Macguire
for Henry Wilson's murder.
I promised him I'd call you.
Good heavens! Bill?
Poor guy, he doesn't
know what's happening!
Listen, Ernie, you go home
and get a good night's sleep,
and I'll see what I can do
first thing in the morning.
I mean, the guy was
into Larkin's for 15,000.
Two weeks ago, Wilson called
him on it. The heat was on.
Yes, but, look, Al, you're holding
Bill under the flimsiest motives!
Well, let me finish, okay?
The murder weapon, the hatchet,
came from Macguire's department
and had his fingerprints on it.
Well, I should
certainly hope so.
He ran the department
for 20 years!
The same night that
Wilson was killed,
somebody bollixed the store computer,
destroying any record of Macguire's debt.
And here, here is...
Here's the real kicker.
Wilson died close to 10:45 p.m.
At 11:00, a ground floor security
guard saw Macguire leave the rear exit.
None of this makes any sense.
Least of all, Floyd Larkin allowing
an employee and a friend like Bill
to be blindsided on the loan.
Jess, I hear Larkin went back on his
word to you about the museum deal.
Couldn't Macguire have
changed his stripes, too?
Floyd.
Tina! How are things going?
Things stink.
Your department manager's
in the slammer for murder.
And look around you.
Everything that made this
store is being trucked out,
like its life's blood is
seeping from the building.
You always put things
in such fanciful terms.
So I'm a romantic.
Didn't hurt in the
Bahamas, did it?
Oh, don't worry, I'm not
building any castles on that week.
That week was good, Tina,
but we had to come back,
and suddenly there were
just too many pressures.
Those pressures
used to turn you on!
Floyd, there was a time that you would've
told these Amalgamated muckety-mucks
to take their pipe racks
and sleazy ads and stick it.
Tina, please... No, listen.
What made this old place
so strong was service.
Integrity.
It came from your dad and your
granddad before him and from you, Floyd.
You're throwing
Larkin's to the wolves!
I have to know what's going on.
Macguire said that our pension
plan is going to become part of theirs.
What? What does Bill
know about things like that?
I don't know. But as a
trustee, it's my business.
The pension plan is
as good as gold, Tina.
Like your handshake
with Macguire?
Like your museum
deal with Mrs. Fletcher?
That's going up in dust
with everything else.
It's going to be all right.
Believe me. Please.
My lawyer told me to clam up,
but I'll tell you, if you promise...
I promise.
Yeah, I was in the store
the night Wilson died.
In a meeting with
Wilson, I smelled a rat.
You mean, as if he knew
that changes were coming?
You got it.
So I tailed him
for a few nights.
Last week, I caught him in this ritzy
uptown joint with Halliwell and Brewer
and I started to
put things together.
The other night in the store, I
was waiting for Wilson to leave
so I could tail him again.
But he never showed up.
Was anybody with you at closing
the night that Wilson
was murdered?
Sure, Ernie Fishman.
I think I'd better
talk to Ernie.
Well, he'll be in my department or
in that nutsy wedding bower of his.
Just go left off the elevator.
I'd walk you down
myself, but, uh...
I know, Bill. And
I'll keep in touch.
Miss Hourani!
Hello, Mr. Halliwell.
Well, is that all you've got to say to
the man who sent you a dozen roses
every day for a week?
"Hello, Mr. Halliwell?"
They were very beautiful.
Now, please excuse me.
Oh, I don't give up quite
that easily, Miss Hourani.
Now, just listen for a
moment. I don't bite.
One of my pleasures in life is
being with a beautiful woman,
such as yourself, and
seeing that she's taken care of.
Her job situation in particular,
and in other more
interesting ways.
I'm not interested,
Mr. Halliwell.
Now, please.
Now, Sharain, your
mouth is saying one thing,
but your eyes are
saying something else.
Like, "What have I got to lose?"
You're wrong! Please, let me go!
You asked for me, Mr. Brewer?
Yes, Miss Gillis.
What'd you have
in mind, my love?
Ooh! It's cold in
here all of a sudden!
Sorry, but we're both going to
have to pay a little more attention
to our behavior patterns.
I'm sorry?
You have a fabulous
opportunity here, Maude.
With Amalgamated, with me.
More money, more position.
But there's something you have to
remember about our esteemed chairman.
Oh, go on.
Clint likes the women
around him to be...
Well, submissive.
He has an almost paranoid loathing
for aggressive, ambitious females.
I'm sorry, but that's
the only way I can put it.
You mean he prefers them
obsequious and fawning,
more like his male assistants?
Maude... Oh, come on, Thornton,
take a good look
at yourself, will you?
You're picking up the guy's underwear!
You're picking up the guy's socks!
I'm sorry.
Thornton, I am sorry. I've
had a bad day, and it's not true.
You've made this
company what it is.
He misuses you
and you cover for him.
I'm sorry. Do you forgive me?
Do you? Do you?
Forgiven.
I can't wait for
tonight, darling.
Oh! Miss Hourani.
I almost forgot.
I'm sorry, Miss Gillis, but
I had to talk to someone.
Not at all. Come on. Tell
me what's troubling you.
Thank you. It's
about Mr. Halliwell.
He's causing me great trouble.
So I've heard.
Then, as another woman,
you will understand my position.
There are those women who
might welcome that kind of affair,
but I am not one of them.
Is it a sexual harassment
suit you're intending, then?
No! No! No.
I have to keep
working, Miss Gillis.
That is all it is. I have
a mother to support.
She's ill and doesn't
speak English.
Then you've still got your job.
And when Amalgamated gets this
white elephant up and running again,
you'll be Cosmetics
Manager with a 30% raise.
Thank you.
Certain conditions, of course.
Conditions?
I want you to date
Mr. Halliwell, Sharain.
You can put out, don't
put out, I really don't care.
I want you to watch what he does,
who he talks to, where he goes,
and then you'll report back to
me, okay? No games, mind you.
I don't... I don't
think I can do that.
Oh, all right.
Then I suppose I'm going to
have to put this to you another way.
The Larkin personnel files
will be carefully
scrutinized by Amalgamated
as they would be by
any other employer.
Certain information
could crop up.
Your own record, for instance,
when you were a teenager?
A temp salesperson in
the lingerie department?
I was very surprised to read, there
was a little matter of employee theft.
But I was young and
stupid, Miss Gillis!
Mr. Larkin, he spoke
to me. He forgave me.
It never happened again!
Funny. I don't see
that in the record.
I thought I knew Judge Gracey.
I figured the injunction
was a lead-pipe cinch,
but somebody with more
muscle than I must've got to him.
Well, we both know who that is.
I'm sorry about your
friend, Bill Macguire.
But what's he got to do with
Floyd reneging on our deal?
Halliwell and Amalgamated
have to do with it, Meredith.
Look, isn't there any
kind of legal half nelson
you can pull out of your sleeve?
I was talking to a broker
friend of mine this morning.
He said there's a rumor that
Amalgamated are in trouble
with the Securities and
Exchange Commissioner.
Jess, I'm a one-woman office
against the best lawyers in the country.
Well, look who's here.
Mr. Halliwell.
You had your wings
clipped. That'll happen.
My guys had bigger
guns, that's all.
Sharain?
He's the worst kind of pig,
but he sure can pick 'em.
Are you really willing to
lose to someone like that?
No, damn it! I'll do what
I can do. No promises.
But we will go down fighting!
Right.
Well, nice to see
you, Mr. Halliwell.
Ernie?
Bill said you'd
be putting it away.
You saw him, then?
Great! You think...
I think he's innocent, Ernie.
I just hope that I
can help to prove it.
Me, too.
It's hard. I can't let
somebody else mess with it.
The bride, isn't she about
the prettiest you've ever seen?
She's lovely.
I call her Sharain. Mmm-hmm.
Can you guess the groom?
Ernie Fishman, maybe?
Ernie, the guns
in Bill's department
were going out tonight,
but what about the hatchets?
Non-lethal, Mrs. Fletcher. They're
listed under stuff like fishing gear,
camping, archery,
you know, hobbies.
Non-lethal. I like that,
considering it was a hatchet
that killed Henry Wilson.
Would it have been missed
from the inventory last night?
No. No, or else Mr. Macguire
would've flagged it.
And sporting goods is closed every
night because of the guns and ammunition.
So, the hatchet
that killed Mr. Wilson
may have been taken from the
department after it was locked.
Yeah, like I told the police.
Who has keys to the department?
Uh, just the department
manager and the brass.
The brass?
Mr. Larkin, I guess.
Tina Poulos, Maude Gillis.
There must be a
number of others.
Al? Oh, I'm glad
I caught you in.
Listen, I just
came from Larkin's
and I have a bunch of
interesting questions.
Jess, I was almost out the door.
Yeah, well, give
me a moment, Al.
Have you asked yourself what Henry
Wilson was doing in Maude Gillis' office
the night that he was murdered?
Because it's my theory that he was
acting as a mole for Amalgamated.
In which case...
Now, whoa, whoa! Look,
uh, can this wait, Jess?
Upside, I've just wangled an
invitation to the Larkin's farewell party.
So I get to know some
of the players better.
Downside, I got to dash out
of here and get into my tux.
Yeah, well, it's not my first
choice, under the circumstances,
but, on second thought,
maybe I'll see you there.
It'll give me one last crack at
Floyd. Save me a dance, Al.
You got it!
Oh, my gosh!
So I'll concede the point, Jess.
Maybe Wilson was
Halliwell's mole.
Well, how about conceding
that the killer must've had a key
to the sporting
goods department?
You're making my
case against Macguire.
Well, keys can
easily be duplicated.
If Bill killed Wilson,
why did he allow himself to be identified
so blatantly by the security guard?
I'm getting a
familiar feeling, Jess.
Like you know something I don't.
Wait a minute. I have to
find a phone. Excuse me.
Take a last look
around, Mrs. Fletcher.
They'll lower the ceilings,
put in their fluorescent lights.
Paint over the murals,
and start peddling
their low-end schlock.
Your lieutenant sends his regrets.
He had to go back to the precinct.
Thank you, Ernie.
Stop fretting. Something's
held up Sharain, that's all.
Oh, Larkin. So
changing the guard, huh?
Oh, Ernie! Ernie,
I'm so sorry, but...
Forget it. I was wondering
what kept you, now I know.
Don't you... Fishman!
Sharain's told me all about you.
You're the window dresser.
What, are you angry
about something, Ernie?
I can't think why. An
artiste like yourself,
Sharain's obvious charms couldn't
possibly hold the same interest for you
that they do for me, hmm? Hmm.
I hope you don't mean that
the way it sounds, Mr. Halliwell.
I'll be plainer.
I don't think you'd know
what to do with Sharain
under the best of circumstances.
Ernie!
What's going on over there?
Ernie. Ernie, I'm so
sorry. This is all my fault.
Are you okay?
God, how could you?
No, but, Ernie, he...
Mrs. Fletcher, he made me do it.
It's all right. It's all right.
I'd like a Scotch,
please. Yes, sir.
Oh, Thorney, Miss Gillis.
There's a call for you on
the store phone, Mr. Halliwell.
You're riding a dead
horse, Miss Gillis.
Or hasn't he told you?
Or maybe... The horse
doesn't know he's dead yet!
Giddyup, Thorney!
Hello.
I'll meet you down there. Yeah.
Ernie, please. Ernie,
please, let me talk to you.
Ernie!
Hmm.
Over this way, Mr. Halliwell.
Where the hell are you?
Right here, Mr. Halliwell
Floyd, is there somewhere
we could talk in private?
If this is about the
museum, it's too late, Jess.
Well, it may not be!
Look, I know that Halliwell gave
you till tonight for the deadline.
But I have a hunch
that if you hang tough,
he'll go for a postponement.
It's too late, Jess, for me,
for the store, for the museum.
The deceased was
discovered by the security staff
approximately 7:30 this a.m.
To Forensics right away.
The murder weapon was part of
the inventory from sporting goods.
Three floors...
Three? Three floors up.
Security says it had to have
happened after 3:00 a.m.
Any idea what
they were after? No.
This was all very personal, very
sensitive information about our employees.
God! It's going to take weeks
to straighten everything out.
Excuse me.
Jessica, I'm sorry to
have to bring you in.
Don't even think about it, Al.
The whole thing is monstrous.
Do you want my
deposition here or...
No, you give it to me. Okay.
Yeah, we figure this... This got
smashed at the time of death.
10:33 last night. Okay.
Might not mean much, but we found this
hanging out of a trash bin in the basement.
Now, that is the
deerstalker's outfit.
There's something I can't
quite put my finger on about that.
What's with deerstalker?
He's into the dying game.
Get that to Forensics.
Well, has any of this changed
your mind about Bill Macguire?
I'm sorry, no.
Phone company turned
up something odd, though.
A call to Halliwell's cellular
phone about 10:45 that night,
and then a second one at 11:03.
Both from Maude Gillis's office.
The second after
Wilson was dead.
Al, that must've been the call Halliwell
was complaining about the next morning.
He said he got a call
at his hotel late at night
by someone who was
asking who he was?
Dumb question. Man or woman?
All he said was some weirdo.
That covers a whole
lot of New York City.
Yeah.
I got a call from Forensics
j just before we left.
They got a mess of
fingerprints off the file break-in.
And, what's more
important, on the crossbow.
At least you can't pin either one
of those incidents on Bill Macguire.
He was in custody.
Right. There's another
killer out there somewhere
and I'm betting the
perp who killed Halliwell
was also responsible
for the break-in.
I'll have a make on those
prints within the hour.
Do me a favor, Al. Call me.
Sure, Jess.
Al! I can't believe my ears!
You actually believe that
Ernie Fishman killed Halliwell?
Fishman's prints were
all over the crossbow
and the bolt that
killed Halliwell.
Well, good heavens,
Al, he set up the display!
Look, it's no secret he was
obsessed about Larkin's.
Well, and so are a
lot of other people!
But loving a place is no
reason to murder someone.
Look, the kid had a
knockdown-dragout with Halliwell.
He's got his mitts all over
the employee file break-in, too.
As if that has anything
to do with murder.
Look, Al, if I see
him, I'll let you know.
Goodbye.
I have a question
or two for you, Ernie,
but let's let Sharain
finish her side first.
Well, there isn't much
more, Mrs. Fletcher.
Mr. Halliwell didn't want
to go to the dinner party,
so we were to have dinner at a
restaurant and wait there for Mr. Larkin.
A few moments'
business, he said,
and then he was going
to take me to his hotel.
I refused to go.
I'm sure of that.
So, Mr. Larkin showed up and...
They went to
another table, arguing.
I couldn't hear everything they were
saying, but it was something about
the pension plan and
a lot of money missing.
Then Mr. Larkin left.
All right. Your turn, Ernie.
Why did you trash
the personnel files?
Sharain told me what Maude
Gillis was holding over her, so...
I made sure the employee files
found their way to
the city dump, that's all.
And what time was this?
After the party.
Somewhere around 3:00.
Window dressers have a
night key. I dodged security.
Uh, start where
it matters, Ernie.
Halliwell was killed at 10:33.
I wanted to tell
him I was sorry.
He took the express
elevator to the basement,
and I followed him. I
found Halliwell dead.
After the fight, if
anyone saw me...
Well, I figured I'd
better get out of there.
Halliwell's body.
That's all you saw?
Think hard, Ernie!
In mannequin storage,
it struck me odd
that somebody'd stripped the
deerstalker of his clothes. I sure didn't.
The deerstalker's clothes!
Of course, now I remember what
was missing. It was the mosquito mask!
Uh, finish your sandwich, Ernie,
then call Lieutenant Terwilliger.
Turn myself in?
Trust me. I think I
know who murdered
both Henry Wilson
and Clint Halliwell.
Oh, Miss Gillis,
uh, is Floyd around?
No, we're closing,
Mrs. Fletcher.
I believe he left about half
an hour ago. Still at it, huh?
For a successful novelist,
you certainly put a lot of heart
into your fight for a museum.
Oh, by the same token, you
seem to have a lot at stake
in the Amalgamated acquisition.
If you mean, am I sleeping
with the enemy? Yes, I am.
Then, just whose side
are you on, Miss Gillis?
You know, I find that really rather
a naive question, Mrs. Fletcher.
I was spawned on two generations
of feminist icons, don't forget.
Steinem, Friedan.
Damn it, somebody's
using the express!
The old boys' network is rotting
from within, or hadn't you noticed?
I'm ready to take
my place over losers
like Floyd Larkin, Halliwell
and Thornton Brewer.
And to get from here to
there, whatever it takes?
Something like that. Good night.
Mrs. Fletcher.
Hi, Tina.
If you're looking for
Floyd, he went off earlier.
No, actually, I was looking for someone
to take me down to the bridal bower.
The police cordon is off now,
and there's something down there
I'd like to take a
second look at.
Still looking for a clue
to spring Bill Macguire?
How about it?
No. Sorry.
Those killings have given
me nightmares enough
without poking around the scene
of the crime. I'm going home.
Good night. Night.
No, the thing you call a
mosquito mask never turned up.
Well, then we've
got to find it, Al.
Jess, why am I getting
the creepy feeling
you're putting your pretty head into
something that might be dangerous?
Look, don't "pretty head" me, Terwilliger.
Anyway, you know me better than that.
Point made. Your, uh...
Ernie Fishman called.
But when I sent some guys
over to your place to pick him up,
he'd gone south.
Al, I'll be in the basement.
I walked back up and heard you
on the phone with the Lieutenant.
You were up to
something, I was curious.
Did you find what
you were looking for?
Yes, Tina, I did.
Actually, I expected to
find something missing.
And here it is.
The spot where the mesh was torn
away and caught in the service pin.
One of the Larkin people?
So, you figured it all out.
Oh, there are still
a lot of gaps, Tina.
For one, I can only guess that
Wilson and Halliwell's murders
both had something to do with the
condition of the Larkin pension plan.
And as one of the trustees, I
would've known all about that.
Mmm-hmm.
Then there were two late-night
phone calls to Halliwell's hotel.
I suspect it was a
call from someone
who wanted to know whom
Wilson had phoned moments earlier,
telling Halliwell of a large sum
missing from the pension plan.
Knowing that, the killer had
to do away with Halliwell, too,
then destroy the
store computer records.
So you've got the
picture, Mrs. Fletcher.
Please, call your lieutenant
friend. Let's get this over with.
You're a very brave woman, Tina.
But not quite clever enough
to assume Floyd's guilt.
Floyd? Have you lost your mind?
I think Jessica's
way ahead of us both.
I was down here
to retrieve this.
You beat me to it.
Tina, it's no use.
Halliwell threatened to make
my embezzlement public,
unless I allowed him to rape the
Larkin plan to cover his own excesses.
At the party, I paged him. I
told him to meet me in the bower,
that I would sign
our deal there.
I took the express elevator down,
giving myself plenty of time to prepare.
When I heard Ernie Fishman coming,
I had everything off except the mask.
I panicked. I didn't
notice until later,
but then I realized that you,
Jessica, must have seen it at the party.
The piece of mosquito
netting caught on my pin.
I told myself
that I was temporarily borrowing
to cover those business
losses I told you about.
With my signature on
Amalgamated's acquisition of the store,
I would have Halliwell's 5 million
to reimburse the pension fund.
Halliwell had bigger ideas.
Yes. He would've
destroyed the pension.
Destroyed the financial security
of the very people who'd
given this store its name.
Jessica, you okay?
Yes, thanks for coming, Al.
Miss Poulos, Mr. Larkin.
Floyd will want to
talk to you about the
murders of Henry
Wilson and Clint Halliwell.
Mr. Larkin.
It's just beautiful, Sharain.
Congratulations to both of you.
It's hard to believe what's
happened in the past three months.
Yeah, well, we wanted to
share our good fortune with you.
I open a bridal boutique on
Madison Avenue next month.
And thanks to you,
I finish my museum
docent training tomorrow.
Oh, which reminds me, look
what just came from the printer's.
That's nice! It's beautiful!
Go on, Sharain.
There's one more reason for
us to celebrate, Mrs. Fletcher.
Sharain, you mean
you're... Yes! Whoa!
Isn't that wonderful!
Oh, my goodness, I'm sure
somebody's already asked you,
but what are you
going to call her?
Him, him, Mrs. Fletcher.
And he'll be called...
Ibrahim, after my grandfather.
Abraham, after my grandfather.
Ibrahim Abraham Fishman.
I wonder, is there
really any difference,
except for the spelling?