Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 10, Episode 20 - A Murderous Muse - full transcript

While handyman Richie Kanpinski repairs her sink, Jessica remarks a busker plays the clarinet beautifully outside the museum where pianist Leslie Walden is rehearsing for a benefit. Her guardian and manager Byron Tocoski is impossibly demanding on everyone, even quick to fire professionals; he is startled by the suspicious arrival of Leslie's dad Hank Walden (the has-been clarinetist) who walked out on her ten years ago and came to nothing. Byron, watched by Hank from outside, tells Leslie, who approaches legal majority, he arranged for them to be married in Munich next October. Jessica finds Leslie on her doorstep in tears, Byron refuses to take notice of her. Vanessa Cross, Byron's ex but still his assistant, informs Hank about Byron's plans. Two businessmen have secret dealings about a fat recording contract Byron made, but to be signed in Leslie's name, so it can still be altered. Next morning Byron is found dead at the piano, shot, apparently through the open window. Lt. Peter DiMartini arrests Hank, who was seen outside again, from where he could have shot. Solly Prinze, the jazz musician closest to Leslie, put her up in tears after she came from Jessica, but when he went out for takeaway found her gone, and turns to Jessica, who is also intrigued by the anonymous composition Byron was playing, which contains a musical oddity...

She left my apartment in
a state close to hysteria.

I'm here to be part
of her life again.

She loathes you.

Am I supposed to know you?

No.

But I'd like to buy you a drink.

Is that ever gonna do
a number on her head?

The window was open.

Now, if it were closed, the
bullet would have shattered it.

That's reverse
logic. Or intuition.

I needed you so much.



I don't expect you
to forgive me, honey.

I wanna make you a woman.

In the murderer's
view of things,

it didn't have to
make musical sense.

You should be asleep by now.

You record tomorrow at 9:00.

It's him, isn't it?

Your imagination, Leslie.

Go to bed.

All right, here's what it'll be.

Artichokes vinaigrette
to start, osso buco,

with zucchini stuffed
with mushrooms.

Mrs. Fletcher, cease and desist.

You're making me hungry.



Have you found out
what's wrong, Richie?

I think so, yeah.

You know, this man
out here, whoever he is,

he plays beautifully.

Oh, the trap was
plugged, that's all it was.

Oh, that's great.
Thank you, Richie.

I've got six people coming
for dinner this weekend.

Oh, it's my pleasure,
Mrs. Fletcher.

You know, about that guy
down there... Mmm-hmm?

Would you believe that Maestro
Tokofsky in the penthouse

put in a complaint
to the police?

Oh? I wonder why.

I Understood that Mr. Tokofsky

was moving out at
the end of the week.

Don't ask. You know,
between you and me,

he is one tenant
I will not miss.

He's a constant complainer.
"This ain't right, that ain't right."

Oh, so I've heard.

You know, Leslie promised us
a benefit recital for the museum,

but it's gonna come
down to whether or not

he's in the mood to
give it his blessing.

You know, that Leslie,
that's someone I will miss.

But it's weird, isn't it,
how any father would let

somebody like
Mr. Tokofsky be her guardian.

Yes. I've wondered
about that, too.

Well, listen. In a week, she'll
be 18 and out on her own.

And then, boom. Watch out.

See you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Thanks, Richie.

- Stop tape.
- Great job.

Is he gonna want to
hear a playback on that?

Uh, it'll probably
be a little while.

Can I get you some more coffee?

Oh, no, thank you,
Vanessa. I'll wait here.

Okay.

My God, girl, what were
you doing with the pedal?

The fortissimo?

It was just as you
wrote it, Byron.

An elephant could
have played it better.

Byron, ease up.

She played it just like
she did on the other tracks,

only it was better,
if you ask me.

Well, I did not ask you.

The whole suite will
have to be re-recorded

when Miss Walden is
sufficiently practiced.

You call yourself
a manager, Owen?

I can't understand how
you allow these people

to go ahead with
rubbish like this.

You okayed the sketches, Byron.

Damn the sketches!

We're selling the top
artist of her generation.

None of this says
anything about that.

There is no excitement.

God knows how many
thousands for Aldous Reynolds,

the top portrait
photographer in New York.

Two million guaranteed for
the cosmetics endorsement,

big advance against the tour,

to say nothing of the
bucks I put on the table

to make Leslie exclusive
to Paradigm Records

and he still won't let
the pros do their thing.

Quite a perfectionist.

No, just one of your
ultimate control freaks.

You seem to be something
of a one-man band yourself.

I mean, isn't it rare
for the head of a label

to be the producer and the
engineer of his company's recordings?

Four years at MIT
studying sound wave theory,

but I dug music more.

If it means overtime
to get everything

just right for Leslie, so be it.

Life is too short.

A week ago, I was
up at the penthouse

fixing that mega
sound system of his.

Some kid wanted to
buy Leslie a cup of coffee.

You should have seen the way
Tokofsky came down on this poor guy.

Just give me some time, Byron.

We'll make it better.

Time is what I don't
have. And neither do you.

Mr. Tokofsky.

Oh, sorry to keep you
waiting, Mrs. Fletcher.

I understand Leslie made a
commitment to you without consulting me.

Unfortunately, our tour preparations
allow for a very tight schedule.

Oh, I understand and
I'm certainly prepared

to work around your schedule.

All I really need
now is to know what

Leslie is going to be playing
at the museum benefit.

I don't think you understand.

It would only be
an afternoon, Byron.

I'm really sorry to
be so persistent,

but I have a deadline with the
printer who's doing the programs

and I would appreciate
hearing something by Friday.

Leslie.

Hello, angel.

Uh, if that's all,
Byron, then, uh,

Jessica and I can share a
cab back to the apartment.

Hmm.

I tried to follow what
career you had, Walden.

It seemed to vanish somewhere
between the drugs and the booze.

I notice that lately it's come
down to one-nighters on sidewalks.

Well, there's, uh... There's
no cover charge on the street.

People appreciate that.

And bar gigs are not exactly

the best incentive
to stop drinking.

You're telling me
you've reformed?

Yeah.

You're not the same musical
fraud you were 10 years ago?

Oh, come on, Byron. Ease off.

I... I came to make peace.

And your timing is
purely accidental?

Face it, you're looking for a
free ride on Leslie's career.

No, I'm not.

In case you
misread her just now,

let me assure you of
something. She loathes you.

Whatever demons
were driving you,

whatever excuses you had,
the loss of your wife, the booze,

all Leslie remembers is
that you walked out of her life.

I still can't understand how
you could have done that,

but remember something.

Both you and her begged
me to help her realize her talent

and I fulfilled my
side of the bargain.

Right. And I'm here to be part of
her life again, one way or another.

Anything that I
can do to help her...

Maybe that way that I can
make up for the missing years.

Look, now, if you
can't handle that...

Just get out.

Stay away from her.
You'll destroy her.

- Hello, Jessica.
- Well, hello, Solly.

Do you two know each other?

This is Solly Prinze.
Leslie Walden.

Solly's my new neighbor.

Well, Leslie and I
aren't exactly strangers.

We've shared the same
elevator several times.

Solly's helping me with the
piano for a book I'm prepping.

Well, it's, uh... It's
good to meet you.

Well, seeing as we're neighbors,

maybe you'd like to
come to dinner sometime.

Maybe.

Good. I'll take that
maybe as a yes.

Bye, Jessica. Bye.

She's kind of shy.

I think she likes you.

Is our lesson still on?

Oh, definitely. 9:00
tomorrow. Thanks.

The caterers called to say
they'd be here at 7:00 sharp.

Which usually means 7:30.

I'm relying on you to
supervise them, Bok.

Yes, Mr. Tokofsky.

Oh, Leslie.

Share a toast with me.

With all the hard work,

you haven't the faintest
idea of the incredible rewards

that await in Europe.

To Leslie Walden, the
brightest light since Van Cliburn.

There's something that I've been
trying to find the right moment to, uh,

express to you, Leslie.

Up to now, I've
been your teacher,

I tried to take your
father's place...

And you have. You've
been everything to me.

A marvelous teacher,
a wonderful father...

Yeah, but I can no longer
just play these roles, Leslie.

You're not a child
anymore, you're...

I think I should get
dressed now. I think it's time.

Please, hear me out.

It's just that... Just
what? Or whom?

Those mindless boys I keep
protecting you from? Your father?

My father can go
to blazes, all right.

I think it's high time you
allowed the girl to breathe.

Kindly mind your own
business, Vanessa.

I have. For five years.

I've been waiting for the
princess to take some young man,

turn him into a toad, or
whatever the fairytale is.

And now I find, to
my utter humiliation,

you're the toad.

I'll take that as a compliment.

You're not really serious
about her, are you?

Let me talk to Albertson.

You have your apartment,
a generous allowance.

If that's not enough...

Yeah, it's Leslie.
I'm glad I caught you.

I just needed to
talk to somebody.

Of course you did. Of course.

Yes, and believe
me, I understand.

Now, listen, you
gift of the gods.

You just hang in there another
week and you'll be out of there.

You'll be your own person.

Yeah, my own
person, but who's that?

I don't even know, Owen.

I know. Just hang
in there, okay?

Please find out
what's keeping Leslie.

I have to speak to the caterers.

I've read one of your
books, Mrs. Fletcher,

and if you'll suffer a poor
music critic a bold opinion,

one finds the woman
behind the pen

so much more intriguing
than her written word.

Have you seen Leslie
around, Mr. Trilby?

No, I haven't, Mrs.
Fletcher. As I was saying...

Byron, I know this
morning was disappointing,

but, uh, there'll be a bunch of
new layouts for you tomorrow...

Well, since you're bringing
it up, I fired them all.

What? You could've
given me the courtesy of...

Courtesy is not
exactly my forte.

You forced me to re-evaluate
our relationship, too, Owen.

And it's over.

Mrs. Lasker, uh,
while you're here,

let me try to find that
concert program for you.

One wonders if the
primal female in you

is not waging some
desperate struggle

to break the bonds
of paper and ink.

I detected a
counterpoint of passion,

an echo of the Romantics,
Brahms, Rachmaninoff,

consciously prohibiting... Bok,
get the damn thing fixed, please.

Their physical
communion, and... Yes.

Would you excuse me, please?

So, he let you out of your cage.

Uh, the usual, Izzy, please.

And what would you like?

Uh, orange juice, thank you.

Okay.

So, I, uh...

I found out if you want the
scoop on anybody in the building,

ask Richie the doorman.

Hey, he said you're
going to turn 18 next week.

Man, that's a biggie.

Me, I fired everybody.

My mother, father,

this flaky manager who wanted to
put me on the Stairway to Stardom.

You know, I, uh... I always
had this place inside me

that had to be mine alone.

I had to clear everybody else
out of there to let it grow on its own.

Careful, it's hot.

Thanks.

Live a little. Okay.

Mmm.

These are pretty good.

I'm a big fan of your
dad's, by the way.

Hank Walden, right?

If you know anything about jazz,

he's like this underground icon.

The top guys collect his
stuff when they can find it.

So, uh...

Let's talk about you.

People were saying, "Solly,
you gotta hear this girl."

So I went to your Carnegie
debut two years ago.

You played the Emperor. After
that, I kind of kept track of you.

An anonymous admirer.

You're not anonymous, Solly.

Studio musicians are
anonymous, believe me.

We don't even have faces.

That's not true. I have
your CD, you know.

Fall Flowers.

How'd you get it past him?

I snuck it in.

There's hope yet.

The party was yours
and yours alone.

You insulted my guests,
your friends and supporters.

They were here only for you.

But you chose
to act like a child.

Listen to me.

We're a little girl again, huh?

Do you remember what we did the
first time you came to me as a little girl,

begging me to take
over your training?

We'll do it now.

Again, just as we did then.

No, please, I don't
want to do that.

Renew your commitment, Leslie.

Look into my eyes.

Do it.

Ten years ago, your
father abandoned you

and there was no one left in
your world but Byron Tokofsky

and a dream of yours

to be a great
concert pianist. True?

You asked me to take your
hands and make them mine.

I have done that and
today you have your dream.

I have given you my life

and asked nothing in return

until now.

Now, I want to make you a woman.

Munich is on our schedule.

It's a beautiful, romantic city.

I have made arrangements
for us to be married there

during the Oktoberfest.

Henry Walden? Yeah.

I'm Vanessa Cross.

Congratulations.

Am I supposed to
know you, Vanessa?

No. But I'd like
to buy you a drink.

Oh, yeah?

Well, the last woman who
bought me a drink, I married.

She died, it damn near cost
me my sanity, so, no, thanks.

You lost a lot more than
your wife, Mr. Walden.

Well, I'm talking about someone

we both have a great
deal of affection for.

Who's that?

Your daughter, Leslie.

What about her?

Byron Tokofsky thinks
that he's in love with her.

He intends to marry her

and he's got her so mixed
up that it might happen.

Why do I get the feeling that you
have some kind of agenda here?

Byron and I have been
together for about five years

and Leslie was
just a child then.

Quite obviously,
she's a woman now.

But if Byron's ring goes
on anybody's finger,

I want it to be mine.

Thanks for coming.

I want you to
understand something.

What I was into
before, that's over.

When your mother
died the way she did...

I loved her so much, Leslie.

More than you could have
known or understood at the time.

I was angry, afraid.
I was full of self-pity.

You were full of drugs.
You were full of alcohol.

They weren't a whole lot better

than shooting
myself in the head,

and I thought of that, too.

I want to tell you,
I'm... I'm sorry.

I... I don't want
anything from you

than to deal with the resentment
and the pain I know I've caused.

God, I wish I
could believe that.

Then I could almost forgive you.

But the truth is, I don't even
know why we're sitting here talking.

Ten years is such a
long time. Byron's right.

You're 10 years too late.

Just give me a chance, Leslie.

You're not on my
schedule anymore, Dad.

I have my music,
and I have Byron.

We couldn't help but grow very
fond of each other in that time.

I thought you might have heard.

We're going to
marry in the fall.

Leslie... Leslie,
no, listen to me.

I know what Byron
has done for you,

but you don't owe him a thing.

Your only obligation is to
yourself, honey, and to your talent.

There's nothing he
can do for you anymore.

From now on, he'll just
be taking and taking.

Believe me, I know him.

Damn you!

Just go away,
okay? Just go away.

As far as I'm concerned, my
father does not exist anymore.

No! He does not exist!

Hey, you've been practicing.

Don't con me, Solly.

That's what piano teachers say to restore
hope in students they know are hopeless.

The better news is, you...

You've helped me to find a musical
oddity that I can use in my book.

It's got to do with the
difference between

C-sharp and D-flat?

They're the same note. Exactly.

Something very
suspicious about that.

Excuse me.

Oh, I'm sorry.

That's all right, Leslie.
We just finished.

Please, come in.

I didn't want to go upstairs, so I
thought that maybe I could come...

Uh, remember what I
said, 4H, just down the hall.

I still owe you that dinner.

Please, come and have a seat.

He's nice, but he just
doesn't understand.

I'm not sure that I
understand either, Leslie.

I'm so sorry about
the museum program.

I know Byron's been
really difficult about it, um...

Look, dear, if it doesn't happen,
it's not the end of the world.

But that's not what's
on your mind, surely.

I don't know.

Now, all of a sudden, my
father wants his daughter back.

Can you imagine that?

This mysterious piece of
information you got for me, Owen,

it better be worth the hour
it took to get across town.

Key question, Steve. What
would it do to your record company

if Tokofsky reneged on your
exclusive deal with Leslie?

In a word, disaster.
What the hell is this about?

You hocked your socks to put
up the million in guarantees, right?

If you recall, the deal
was never signed.

Go on.

Bodie Records came in last month
with a contract for twice what you put up.

He can't do that. We
got a letter of agreement.

Oh, trust me, short of Tokofsky

getting hit by a
truck, it's a done deal.

He tried to keep a lid on it,

but, uh, Bodie's attorney
is a friend of mine.

I can't believe it. The creep's
doing me just like he did you.

Ah, but there's a window, buddy.

Bodie stipulated that
Leslie sign in her own right.

Meaning it's her decision.

We have a good
relationship, she and I.

She likes, trusts me.

I can get to her. It's a cinch
I'll be back as her manager.

But you, Steve, you
know, working alone,

you got no position.

What's it gonna cost me, Owen?

Nothing you can't afford
with Leslie on the label.

Think about it.
You still got time.

Yeah, all of two weeks.

Wrong. You got
till noon tomorrow.

I'll be in touch.

The airline tickets still haven't
arrived from Air Florida...

Oh, come in, Mrs. Fletcher.

Byron will be off the
phone any minute.

Oh. Uh, this was left in
the lobby for Mr. Tokofsky.

Oh, could you see that
he gets it? Mmm-hmm.

I'd stop and chat, but I'm
running late for the Kloski concert.

Of course. Uh, is...
Is Leslie around?

No, we don't know
where Leslie is.

She hasn't been in
since this morning.

Oh, that's very strange.

Oh, I'm sorry.
I've gotta run. Ah.

Please let me know
as soon as possible.

Fine. I'll speak to you tomorrow
about this, okay? Thank you.

Join me over
here, Mrs. Fletcher.

Ah.

Richie asked me to
bring this up for you.

Oh.

Another impoverished
composer, I'll wager,

begging to have a work performed

and too shy even to
put his or her name on it.

Uh, Mr. Tokofsky, I... I really
would like to talk about the, um...

Oh, yes, this museum
thing, Mrs. Fletcher?

Byron, I'm off. And don't
forget, it's Bok's night out,

so there's a
sandwich in the pantry.

Mrs. Fletcher.

The museum thing,
you were saying?

Well, I won't waste
my time or yours.

Uh, the benefit is out of
the question, Mrs. Fletcher.

Yes. Well, I can't say
that I wasn't prepared.

But since I'm here, can
we talk about Leslie?

I'm very concerned about her.

She's very confused
and she's upset.

I think part of it is the
pressure that she feels from...

Mrs. Fletcher, Leslie is my
business, my responsibility.

She and I hardly need
fainthearted busybodies

creating imaginary psychoses.

Mr. Tokofsky, two hours
ago, she left my apartment

in a state close to hysteria. Now, one
doesn't have to be a psychiatrist to see

that she's a severely
conflicted young woman.

I mean, the return
of her father...

The reality, Mrs. Fletcher,

is that you don't
have the faintest clue

at all about Leslie's
state of mind.

Now, if you'd be good
enough to let yourself out.

Mr. Tokofsky...
Please, Mrs. Fletcher.

The line of fire indicates
a single round fired

from a rooftop
across the street,

entering through an open window
and hitting the decedent in the back,

causing massive trauma on the exit
passage in the area of the sternum

and stopping in the piano.

Uh, it's a soft-point bullet.

Yeah .308.

It's mushroomed. It'll
be no help to us at all.

Okay, forgive the interruption,
Jessica. Was that it, then?

Well, those were my
last minutes with him.

Uh, the doorman,
a Richard Kanpinski,

he says an envelope arrived late
yesterday from an unknown party.

It had no label or return
address. It's odd, don't you think?

Yeah, well, it contained these...
These, uh, music sheets here.

Mr. Tokofsky seemed
accustomed, even flattered,

to receive unsolicited
compositions.

Uh-huh.

Come on, come on, let's get
the boys to move it, all right?

We have to clear this
crime scene by noon.

Yes, Lieutenant.

Jessica.

Vanessa Cross told me

that Walden told her that when
he bugged out about 10 years ago,

he left a bunch of his own
compositions with his daughter.

And he claimed Tokofsky
appropriated them.

I'm afraid I can't help you.

There is one
other thing, though.

You know, Walden's daughter,
Leslie, disappeared yesterday.

She was a very
disturbed young woman

and I'm really worried for her.

Vanessa, I am so sorry.

I wasn't here for him.

He died alone.

Who could have
done such a thing?

If it's any consolation,

Lieutenant DiMartini is one of the
city's best homicide investigators.

I'm afraid to think how
this is going to affect Leslie.

Byron was her whole life.

Tour promoters are saying

that Leslie has her pick of
Blyburg, Schantz or Korolosky,

three of the hottest
conductors going.

I talked to the agency
people this morning.

The endorsement
package is still in place.

Leslie's face is gonna be in every
woman's magazine in the country.

Have you talked to Leslie yet?

Not yet.

No one can find her, right?

So this is all blue sky

until you can sit down and
remake your deal with her.

Listen, trust me, it'll happen.

It's time we made our
arrangement. You got a problem?

Yeah, I got a problem.
15%'s a problem.

For you to advise her to go
with Paradigm instead of Bodie?

No more than standard
management commission, Steve.

Oh, come on, man, call
it like it is. It's a kickback.

I'm beginning to think I
should just talk to her myself.

Be my guest, Steve.

She'll ask my advice, of course,

and I'll have to be
honest with her and, uh...

And tell her that I think the
Bodie deal is a hell of a lot better.

Yesterday you were out of a job.

Today you're running things.

The only difference is that
Tokofsky's conveniently dead.

That supposed to mean something?

You tell me.

I'll have the papers drawn
up and faxed to you tomorrow.

Sign them or don't sign them.

It's up to you.

And now an update on the
bizarre penthouse murder

of conductor-composer
Byron Tokofsky

and his stranger-than-fiction
Svengali relationship

with the piano
prodigy, Leslie Walden.

The latest break came
earlier today, here,

outside this midtown precinct,

where homicide detective Peter
DiMartini faced our cameras.

All right, I have
a statement here.

A suspect in the murder of
Byron Tokofsky has been detained.

His name is Hank Walden,
Leslie Walden's father.

Now, we believe the
perpetrator shot the deceased

from a rooftop across
from the penthouse.

And we have reason to believe
that Mr. Walden was on the rooftop.

That there's a history
of animosity between

him and the victim.

Jessica, Leslie's gone.

Yes, I know, Solly, and
everybody is very concerned.

Please come in.

She was with me
most of the afternoon.

Wait a minute, she was with you?

See, I found her at
my door around 2:00.

She just curled up on
my couch, into herself,

you know, not saying anything.

Later, I figured she
needed something to eat,

so, I... I don't keep
that much in my fridge.

I went out for some take-home,

I came back just now,
and she was gone.

Well, you have reason to worry.

Look, does she know that
her father has been arrested

for the murder of Mr. Tokofsky?

'Cause it was on
the news just now.

She never said, and I
didn't want to bring it up.

But the TV was on when I
came back from the store.

Well, I think you should get
back to your apartment right away,

just in case she returns, and
I'll let you know if I hear anything.

If you see her, she needs to
hear from somebody she trusts.

I know.

I think she trusts you, Solly.

Byron said I could
never play without him.

But you can.

And beautifully.

After I left you yesterday, I...

I just couldn't face Byron.
I couldn't deal with him.

He'd begun to want
something else from me,

and I was so naive not to
see what was happening.

Not to see how our
relationship was changing.

Will you tell me where you went?

I don't remember
much. I was so out of it.

I took the subway
to the end of the line

and by the time I
got back, it was dark.

I didn't want to go home,

so I just walked and I walked.

Anybody else would have
gotten mugged, or worse,

but I guess it was
because I didn't care, right?

Solly was very worried about
you, along with everyone else.

Well, everyone
else can go to hell.

Vanessa used me,
Owen can butt out,

and I'm not playing Byron's
suite either. He didn't write it.

I understand it
was your father's.

You heard? Yes, I heard.

I just can't believe
that he killed Byron.

He was never that
upset about anything.

Not enough to kill someone.

What if I could arrange for you
to talk to your father tomorrow?

They did find my fingerprints,

and that's because I
was up there on the roof.

But I wasn't up there to
kill anybody, believe me.

But why?

It's gonna sound
stupid, but I...

It... It just, at the time,
seemed like the only way

that I could be part of what
was going on in your life,

be able to see you.

Before Mom died,

when we were all together,

I wasn't afraid of anything.

Then one day, I
remember seeing you

sitting there crying and

it frightened me and
I didn't know why.

That night I had a nightmare

and I called for
Mom to come to me

and you didn't.

God, I needed you so much.

I don't expect you
to forgive me, honey.

Just, uh...

These last couple of days, I...

I've just been
trying to understand.

You know, just trying to...

To put myself in
your place, that's all.

- A - Barnes take-down rifle

was found hidden
in a duct on the roof.

Uh, a matching cartridge
casing was nearby, but no prints.

A take-down rifle? So
whoever brought it up to the roof

could have broken it
down into smaller pieces

and then concealed
it in something else?

Like a clarinet case.

Somebody got past
that night desk man.

The super says that,
uh... That he sleeps a lot,

so, you know, who's to know?

Somebody, meaning that you're not
convinced that it was Hank Walden.

Neither is Leslie.

Well, Jessica,
intuition is fine.

But this fella doesn't
exactly get A's for his stability.

He loses his wife
and he goes bonkers.

He gives up his eight-year-old
daughter to Tokofsky

and he resigns from...
From the human race.

Yes, but, Peter, that
was 10 years ago.

Okay, okay.

But does it make sense
that he left fingerprints

on the roof and not on the gun?

I mean, there's something
so pat about that,

as if it were planted to make
you think it was fired from the roof.

Well, you talk to Forensics.

The line of fire says that
the bullet was from there.

The window was open.

Now, if it were closed, the
bullet would have shattered it

and I'd have to agreed with you.

That's reverse logic.

Or intuition.

Then there's the music manuscript
delivered before the murder.

Walden denies it,
but I bet he sent it.

There's no fingerprints
on the envelope,

there's no fingerprints
on the sheet music.

It suckered Tokofsky
over to the piano,

so it gave Walden a clear
shot right through the window.

And no authorship, just a
blatant appeal to Tokofsky's vanity.

Everything okay, Leslie?

Yes, thank you.

We'll be with you in a moment.

Lieutenant, would it be possible for
me to get a photocopy of that music?

Yeah. Sure, okay.

At the time, they
were. I mean, no name,

no return address
and no fingerprints.

Sounds fishy to me.

Play it then.

That chord is
definitely wrong, Solly.

That's the way it's written.

But why would a
presumably aspiring musician

send a flawed manuscript
to Byron Tokofsky?

Unless...

Uh, play it again, Solly.

Of course.

In the murderer's
view of things,

it didn't have to
make musical sense.

Solly, what happened
to that dinner

that Leslie missed
earlier tonight?

Frozen fettuccine
Alfredo à la Solly Prinze?

How about it?

It was the same caliber,
Jessica. We both know that.

But the bullet mushroomed,

so, no, we couldn't
match it up with the rifle.

Well, then I
believe that the shot

could have been fired
from within the penthouse.

Jessica, with all due
respect to your reputation,

I'm about to take the
bus home on this one.

You yourself said that there
was nobody with Tokofsky

when you left the penthouse.

Granted. But I think I know
how it may have been done

and who the killers are.

Wait, wait, wait. Wait, killers?

C-sharp and D-flat.

Two killers with
the same purpose.

Peter, I think I have
a way to prove it,

but I'm gonna need your help.

Mrs. Fletcher?

Oh, I'm sorry if I
surprised you, Vanessa.

May I ask what
you're doing here?

I mislaid my glasses.
And what about you?

I left my belongings.

Oh.

A wild guess. They're
in the credenza.

Oh. Somewhere in
there, as it happens.

Oh, not just somewhere.
In the secretary.

And I suspect
they'll provide proof

that Mr. Tokofsky's murder
was planned within the last month

and that Hank Walden was
merely a handy scapegoat.

You're speaking in
riddles, Mrs. Fletcher.

It was that window that
was the riddle, Vanessa.

When I came here
last night, it was closed.

And yet, as I was leaving
the penthouse, it was open.

It was only later
that I remembered

and I wondered when
and how that happened.

And then I realized that when
Mr. Tokofsky was seated at the desk,

the window was
obscured from view.

Leslie and Bok were gone. You
were the only other person in the house.

The only person who
could have opened it.

Are you saying that I climbed
up on that roof out there?

Oh, no.

But you contrived to
make the police think

that's where the
shot was fired from.

And to do that, the
window had to be open.

Are you accusing me
of shooting Byron here?

Well, my hunch is that nobody
actually pulled the trigger.

Tokofsky was driven
to play a piece of music

designed to make him a victim
of his own vanity and curiosity.

You must know
this piece, Vanessa.

Now, there's a chord
here that is wrong.

Now, I'm not much
of a pianist, but...

Ah.

You see, this afternoon, a
TV commercial reminded me

that a specific sound can
activate micro-electric responses,

as with a voice-activated
VCR or computer,

which in turn could cause
the secretary to open

and the gun inside to
fire, killing Byron Tokofsky.

Do you actually think that I have the
expertise to do something like that?

No, I don't.

But I think you had a
very able accomplice,

whose fingerprints on the
inner workings of that secretary

will almost
certainly indict him.

On the money, Mrs. Fletcher.

We caught Mr. Hoyt
coming in the lobby.

He was carrying a... A very
interesting little bag of tricks.

Oh, those tools were an
urgent necessity, Lieutenant.

Steve and Miss Cross were
undoubtedly here tonight

to dismantle the murder device.

I'd appreciate your accompanying

this officer to the
precinct, Miss Cross.

Steve, surely you realized

it could just as easily have
been Leslie sitting here.

Not just as easily, Jessica.

It was Tokofsky's
ego that killed him.

Well, you were right, Jessica.
Both had motive enough.

Tokofsky's will was
drawn up three years ago,

and it must have been
during happier days,

because he left Miss
Cross a substantial annuity

in the event that
he predeceased her.

But I ask you something.

How'd you know about Steve Hoyt?

Well, with the Bodie Records
deal virtually done a month ago,

his company was out on a limb.

He told me he spent
some time here last week

updating the sound equipment.

Time enough to
rig up that gizmo.

Well, thanks for the call.

Tell me, do you
have any extra tickets

to Miss Walden's museum recital?

Oh, I might arrange
that. One or two?

Well, that depends
on you, Jessica.

Well, make it two, then.

Richie tells me that you're off
tomorrow on your world tour.

Now, where is your first stop?

Well, a week in
London, then Paris,

and then in September
I'll be in Hamburg.

Oh, I envy you.

Uh, so, you know, I
wangled a gig on a cruise ship

that docks there
right about that time.

Well, maybe I'll see you there.

They're short a clarinet, Hank.

Okay, But I don't do
sidewalks anymore.