Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 10, Episode 7 - A Killing in Cork - full transcript

FEMALE NARRATOR:
Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

I can do any damn thing
I want to, Mr. Moylan,

as long as it's in the best
interest of the company!

You haven't picked the best time
for a visit to Kilcleer, Mrs. Fletcher.

If we handle it properly, we'll
come away with some money.

And there's money in the office.

Without the mill
the village will die!

Well, now that's something
of an understatement.

You're too much of a coward.

I thought he'd run
out on me. I panicked.

You're assuming the murderer
was a man then, Sergeant Boyle?



I'm assuming
nothing, Mrs. Fletcher.

There were hundreds of them
cavorting around, shameless as they were.

You haven't been
near me in over a year.

And I'll see you dead!

Everybody knows
it was an accident.

You're lying!

When Mrs. Griffith said you were
coming to Kilcleer, I was surprised.

You know, with Mr. Griffith
dead barely two months.

Well, my husband, Frank, and I
were at her wedding to Robert.

Fiona and I planned
this visit a year ago.

She needs a good
friend. That's what it is.

You know, there is a regular
crisis going on at Kilcleer Woollens.

She's got her son,
Sean, to worry about now,

knowing there's going to be a big
fight between him and his cousin.



Ambrose Griffith? Oh, I
thought he was in America.

Was. With his uncle gone, he's suddenly
sniffing around and it's giving Sean fits.

DENNIS: Come in.

(PHONE RINGING)

Ambrose called from the airport.

He'll be here within the hour.

How do you want
me to handle it, Sean?

If you hold anything back
it'll only make him nosier.

Tell him what he wants to know.

We'll feel our way.

If it comes to relocation...

We'll fight him, won't we, Sean?

Yes, Dennis. We'll fight him.

Oh, a friend of my mother's
is arriving this morning.

A Miss J.B. Fletcher.
Now, she's an American.

I'll be giving her a
tour of the factory...

I'll be good to her, Sean.

Thanks, Dennis. Actually, she's
quite a grand lady. You'll like her.

(DENNIS CHUCKLES)

(CAR HONKING)

JESSICA: My goodness, Siobhan, we
might as well be in Midtown Manhattan.

SIOBHAN: Hang on, Mrs. Fletcher.

(HONKING)

Mary, Mother of... What is
he in such a hurry about?

AMBROSE: Look, look, look,
enough with the excuses, okay?

I'll be there in 10 minutes and I'll
want to see those reports I asked for

by fax from New York a day ago.

(SCOFFS) Great.

He's already stonewalling.

Mr. Moylan will see
you now, Mr. Griffith.

Why don't the two
of you wait in the car?

You know what, darling, can't we
just have Eric take me to the hotel

and come back for you?
Just do what I say. Okay?

(DOOR CLOSING)

Patience. We won't have to
put up with him much longer.

SIOBHAN: May Day this
year was the best ever.

But the whole thing was ruined terribly
with Mr. Griffith going the way he did

that same night.

(EXCLAIMS) Mrs. Fletcher, would
you mind terribly if I gave a friend

a lift into the village?

JESSICA: Oh, not at all.

SIOBHAN: Well,
good day to you, Billy.

Bless you, Siobhan.

SIOBHAN: Billy Mahaffy, this
is Mrs. Fletcher from America.

BILLY: I have to say you
haven't picked the best time

for a visit to Kilcleer,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Right on the heels of
Robert's murder and all.

Well, I'm quite aware
of that, Mr. Mahaffy.

Murder? (SCOFFS) Don't be
listening to him, Mrs. Fletcher.

You're daft as
they come, Mahaffy!

Everybody knows
it was an accident.

A man's entitled to his own opinion.
Wouldn't you say so, Mrs. Fletcher?

And mine is that Robert
Griffith was done away with.

I'd be obliged if you'd let me off at
the Carbery Arms there, Miss Kennedy.

Mmm-hmm.

BILLY: Pleased to
meet you, Mrs. Fletcher.

JESSICA: Likewise, Mr. Mahaffy.

BILLY: Thank you, Siobhan.

SIOBHAN: We'll be
seeing you, Mr. Mahaffy.

Oh! Darling Jessica!
You're a sight for sore eyes!

Oh, has it only
been three years?

Well, a bit more than that.
But you look exactly the same.

Oh, stop it, Fee. It's not
true, but thanks anyway.

You know, all things considered,
you look wonderful, too.

Go on out of that. Here, give me
your coat. I have the tea set out.

Oh, lovely.

Oh! The house
is looking glorious.

(LAUGHS) Thank you. Drop to the
fire there. You must be exhausted.

I just met an old friend
of yours, a Mr. Mahaffy.

He certainly has
a way with words.

(CHUCKLING) You
know, ages ago that man

won a poetry contest and
was invited to Belfast to study.

Only poor Billy, you know,
he had a liking for the...

(SPEAKING LOCAL LANGUAGE)

Walked out in front
of a truck one night,

spent a year in the hospital.
Damaged his leg forever.

Thank you.

You know, that portrait is
just as I remember Robert.

Aye. But a little intimidating.

The struggle to keep the mill profitable
made him harsher than he wanted to be.

Though last year he
began to let go a little.

He'd taken up
masonry as I remember.

Oh, bricks and mortar!

(CHUCKLES) When the
steeple at Saint Broderick's

blew down in '89, he
endowed a new one.

Oh, he was always up there
fussing, changing things.

He was up checking some
masonry the night he fell.

Would you believe, a workman
had forgotten to put up a barricade.

(GASPS) I'm so sorry, Fee.

Thank you, Jess.

But you know, 'tis
Sean I worry about now.

He's not so
hard-headed as his father.

And your older son?

Patrick?

Oh, don't you remember, Patrick
dropped out of school and ran off.

You know, it's been 10
years and he's not been back.

And I haven't heard a word.

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

AMBROSE: Where's
the manager of this place?

MAN: Well, he's over by the bar.

Ambrose Griffith.

Oh, welcome to Carbery
Arms, Mr. and Mrs. Griffith.

You've two rooms, one for
yourselves and one for your driver.

We've ordered
the best you've got.

Oh, it's the best in
all Kilcleer, Mr. Griffith.

Windows to the west with a view of
the ocean such as you've never seen.

Frankie! Show them
to their room, huh?

MAN: Another pint.
Excuse me, friend.

Let me take a wild guess.

Are you a bird watcher?

Right you are.

Ah, well, I never would have guessed
except for all that paraphernalia.

You know, the Mahaffys spotted
gackle. Very abundant this year.

The marshes are full of them.

Have you got any
of them on film?

I have.

And I'm a three-headed donkey.

SEAN: As you've seen, Jessica,
we do everything in this old plant.

(LAUGHS) Yes, I can see.

All the flannels,
worsteds, tweeds, rugs.

Kilcleer Woollens has always
been the hallmark of quality.

Well, my mother always
swore by your blankets.

And I can see that their
quality hasn't changed one bit.

We try. Cheaper goods,
overseas competition...

Oh, Sean! For God sake,
man. What was in your mind?

Mrs. Fletcher, Dennis Moylan.

Oh! How do you
do? Mrs. Fletcher.

Ambrose Griffith was here
looking for the expense reports.

We weren't to hold anything
back, Sean. Or have you forgotten?

I... I changed my mind.

What kind of craziness...

There'll be time enough
for expense reports, Dennis.

Robert would've said,
"Give the man his head."

My father is dead.

Mother wants you to have a throw
rug to take back to Cabot Cove.

Dennis has volunteered
to help you pick one out.

Ah. The car will be waiting.

Well, thank you so much
for the tour, Sean. All right.

DENNIS: Mrs. Fletcher,
please. Thank you.

Robert would've said, "The foal
jumps before he has the legs to walk."

(LAUGHS) You don't mind?

Oh, not at all, no.

You mean Sean doesn't have his
father's knack for handling people?

Well, we've something of
a crisis here, Mrs. Fletcher.

Ambrose Griffith wants to move the
company lock stock and barrel to Sligo.

Half the able-bodied in the
village depend upon the mill.

Robert found a location near Bandon and
if we've to move, that's the place to go.

It's only 20 minutes away.

JESSICA: Well, it's a very
handsome-looking building.

Yeah. Well, we've some new patterns
coming off the line by noon tomorrow.

A little something to keep you warm
on those cold Cabot Cove nights, huh?

If you have time we can pop next
door and find something you fancy.

Oh, I'd love that.
Well, come on then.

(CHURCH BELL TOLLING)

TIMOTHY: The carillon bell
system quit on us, Mrs. Fletcher.

Now it's me and the lay
helpers have to do the ringing

the old-fashioned way.
Robert Griffith, rest in peace.

Robert was very much
into modern technology.

He had two centuries of
parish records computerized.

And he put in the carillon.
So much for modernity.

If you can't find anything
among the headstones...

Your... Your family, McGill, is it,
you're looking for? JESSICA: Yes.

You're welcome to use the
church office and try the computer.

Well, thank you
very much, Father.

Oh, and I'll be seeing you
tonight. Dinner at the Griffiths?

Yes.

(LAUGHS)

(WOMAN CRYING)

(SHUSHING) The gancanagh.
The gancanagh's coming.

(GASPS)

TIMOTHY: I've read several
of your books, Mrs. Fletcher.

And I'm distressed at your apparent
disinterest in poison as a means of murder.

Well, Father, if the truth be told,
I prefer the hands-on methods.

If only for their
entertainment value.

I mean, do you have
a poison of choice?

Indeed. Something at
once beautiful and deadly.

Amanita phalloides.

Ah, yes, the death cap
mushroom. Extremely effective.

My preference, though, would
be for cyanide or strychnine,

both swifter and equally lethal.

For heaven sakes, the two
of you. Not after a full meal.

Fiona, you've
written, how many is it,

four books on
classic Irish myth?

Tell me, what is a gancanagh?

A gancanagh is a member
of the leprechaun family.

Have you been having traffic
with a gancanagh, Jessica?

Well, I was in Saint Broderick's
graveyard this afternoon.

And there was this very
strange woman there.

She seemed to be very
troubled by something.

You saw Una
O'Reilly, Mrs. Fletcher.

A spinster lady from
the village, a sad case.

Una was in Saint Broderick's the
night that Robert fell from the belfry.

Oh, dear. How terrible for her.

It did something to the poor woman's
head to see Robert fall like that.

(SIGHS) She seemed
almost childlike.

Well, truth be told, Una spends
her time playing with the wee folk.

Leprechauns and fairies that
congregate down below in the graveyard.

Sure, I used to play with them
myself when I was a young girl

and I'm not so old as to
be blind to them, either.

(LAUGHS)

Now Jessica, there's
your gancanagh.

(JESSICA EXCLAIMS)

That's his dudeen, his pipe
that never leaves his mouth.

Handsome fellow, isn't he?

Supposedly makes love to the
shepherdesses and the milk maids,

if you please.

I'm not sure I'd like that, making love
to me fella with his pipe in his mouth.

(ALL LAUGHING)

AMBROSE: Look,
to put it simply, Sean,

I'm going to take over the
direction of the company.

It's going nowhere
but down right now,

and I have a plan that'll
produce profits within a year.

SEAN: Well, then, let's
discuss your expertise!

As I understand it, you've made a
fortune in cut-rate TVs and VCRs?

Yeah.

My congratulations, but
they're not the same as woolens!

The game's the same!
It's called selling at a profit!

Ambrose, forgive me, but how can you
possibly know enough about the company

to have such strong opinions?
I mean, you haven't been here.

You've never taken much of an
interest in the company, Fiona.

Why now, unless it's to
protect Sean's situation?

Just cool it, Sean. I didn't
mean it the way it sounded, okay?

(KNOCKING AT DOOR) Right.

Forgive the interruption,
ladies and gents.

But I understand my cousin
Ambrose has plans for our company

and I'm here to put
in my shilling's worth.

(PATRICK LAUGHING)
Patrick, you're back!

Oh, Patrick! I don't
believe my eyes!

Look at you, you're so handsome.

Oh, stop that, Mother.
You'll be having to

bar the door from
every girl in the county.

God, you're as
beautiful as ever.

Oh, go on, dear.

And you're still the ugly,
little bastard I left behind.

You're here in the
nick of time, man!

(LAUGHING)

Cousin Ambrose.

You look pretty much the same.

Still breaking other kids' toys because
you can't have them to yourself?

And you haven't changed much
yourself. Still in the games, huh?

Oh, it's no game, Ambrose. You may
as well know that I have no intention

of letting you or anybody else
take my father's company over,

move it or otherwise meddle
in my family's business.

Your father disowned you.

You have no shares
in this company.

You and your brother will
have no choice in this matter.

I think we better
get back to the hotel.

Excuse us.

JESSICA: I had a chat
with your mother at breakfast

and I think I've persuaded
her to get back to her writing.

Sure enough. She had her
notebook out when we left.

Father's death had its
effect on her, I guess.

Well, I'd expect that.

What about you?

Sorry, I used to think it was him
seeing his own worst side in me,

but he never dealt even-handedly
between Sean and me.

I mean, if there was a
punishment, I took the brunt.

So you ran off.

It must have
been very difficult.

Working and getting a degree?

Oh, well, it could
have been worse.

But all through school I had this anonymous
benefactor sending me money orders

every month like clockwork.

Fiona?

No. Mother never
knew where I'd gone to.

But when the old man died
it was time to come home.

So here I am.

I'm sorry about last night. After 10
years, I should've held my tongue.

For a few hours anyway.

(GASPS) Oh, God!

(BOTH LAUGHING)

(SIGHS)

I want to leave him now.

No. Just a little
while longer, Em.

If we handle it properly,

we'll come away with some money.

Enough for us to find a place we'll
never have to work another day.

How about Ibiza?

(BOTH LAUGHING)

What about Monaco? I could
empty some wallets in Monaco.

(BOTH LAUGHING)

(SHUTTER CLICKING)

(SHUTTER CLICKING)

Oh, come on! Where the hell
did you get these numbers?

Patrick, give me a break! Your
brother's own people came up with the

cost-versus-revenue runs.

He's had them hidden
under his bed for all I know.

Sean?

The numbers are
accurate, Patrick.

(LAUGHING) So we have a problem!

But moving us all the way
to Sligo isn't going to help.

With all due respect, Mr. Griffith, you
can't move the company that far away.

I can do any damn thing
I want to, Mr. Moylan,

just as long as it's in the
best interest of this company.

Ah, one thing neither
one of you know.

I was in contact
with your father.

Yeah, it took a lot of talking, but
before he died he saw the light.

He was prepared to move
this company up to Sligo.

You're lying! Okay! Okay, here.

Letters from the board of directors
nominating me chairman and CEO,

endorsing my plan.

I figured I'd hold off showing
you this to see if there was anyone

I could leave in place
to run things my way.

Clearly, that's out of the question. I'm
going to have to bring in my own people.

Now, Patrick, you've
been out of this business.

But, Sean, I am willing to keep
you on in a modest capacity

with the understanding
that you have no say

in the day to day
operation of this business.

Understand something.

You'll never have the pleasure of me
mucking about any company of yours.

And I'll see you dead before I let Sean
stay on in any bloody modest capacity!

All right!

Stay out of it! Both of yous!

(SCOFFS)

Well, as far as I can see,

you do your work, you keep your
nose clean, you, I'll be keeping.

Assuming you can
adapt to my ways.

(CHATTERING)

So,

where've you been all day?

(CLEARING THROAT) Well, actually
I took the car and went sightseeing.

What?

Communing with nature?

Oh, I've got better
ones if you're interested.

More intimate if you
know what I mean.

Ambrose, what did you expect?

I mean, you haven't been
near me in over a year.

And you and Eric have been
making up for lost time, haven't you?

Just don't forget to
tell him that he's fired.

Ambrose... Emily,
I'm suing for divorce.

I've had you followed
for the last six months.

And the lawyers tell me there's not
going to be any division of property.

No alimony.

So, sleep wherever you want.

Just make sure
it's not in this hotel.

I need to see you.

No, now.

(UPBEAT CELTIC MUSIC PLAYING)

(CHATTERING)

Hi.

Emily, have you seen
Patrick? My son, Patrick?

Oh, no, I haven't.

Where on earth
has that boy got to?

Two gin and
bitters, please. Right.

Billy.

(PEOPLE APPLAUDING)

Mrs. Griffith.

Ho, Dennis. You're
looking real spiffy.

Well, thank you, Sean. Can't let
reality get us down, now can we?

BARMAN: And now,
ladies and gentlemen.

Once again, let's give a big
hand for the Ballynoe Tripsters!

(CELTIC MUSIC PLAYING)

Isn't it beautiful, Jessica?

Young people
maintaining their traditions.

I just love it, Fee.

With all the excitement,
Mr. Griffith, I forgot to give you this.

Thought it might be important.

(EXCLAIMS) Patrick,
you scared me.

We can go now. The
contest's almost over.

No, Siobhan. There's
something I have to do first.

Patrick. Look, Siobhan,

I'll meet you at the
lake later. I promise.

I was on my way.
Do you need a lift?

Oh, yes, please. The jet
lag is really getting to me.

(UNA SINGING)

And down to Kilkerry

The weak were
gone, the water dry

Only to Donnelly, oh

Donny come back again
Donny come back again

And he never went...

(CREAKING)

All right. Let's stop
playing around, huh?

Are you here, or what?

(CHURCH BELL RINGING)

Do the bells always
ring at 10:00?

Church bells? Well,
there's no one...

Nobody rings the
church bells after 6:00.

And I locked the place tight.

And there's money in the office.

Come along, Jessica.

(DOOR CREAKING)

MAN: All right there.
Pass on through.

BOYLE: Pending the
full coroner's report,

we'll assume the
obvious for now,

that Mr. Griffith
died of strangulation.

Grabbing the bell-rope in the
last throes of life at approximately

10:00 p.m. last night.

Murder in the parish is bad
enough. Wait till that curmudgeon,

Bishop Joyce, hears
it was in my church.

You know, I think that I could
give you a more precise fix

on the time, Sergeant Boyle.

Yes, Mrs. Fletcher?

Well, when I heard the bell start to
ring, I happened to look at my watch.

It was 10:04.

10:04. Thank you. Yeah.

Father Timothy recalls...

Now have you considered
that there may be a connection

between Robert Griffith's presumed
accidental death and this one?

I've heard those
stories, Mrs. Fletcher.

He recalls locking the church
before leaving for the dance contest.

There's a broken window in
the alcove under the bell tower,

which probably
gave the killer ingress.

Sergeant.

Ah.

Curtain cord I expect.

A fella could buy some of
this at any of a dozen shops

between here and Bandon
and no one would be the wiser.

You're assuming the murderer
was a man then, Sergeant Boyle?

I'm assuming
nothing, Mrs. Fletcher.

It could've been a woman.
A strong woman, yes.

You better get started
on the shops. Okay?

Sergeant, there's
just one other thing.

Last night, just before
the dance contest started,

I noticed the bartender
of the Carbery Arms

hand a message to Mr. Griffith.

It was in the victim's
pocket, Mrs. Fletcher.

It called urgently
for a meeting here,

but it didn't say when
or who it was, as if he

or she wished to
remain anonymous.

If it was from the killer, that
might suggest that he or she

broke in through the window,
opened the door from the inside

so that Ambrose could come
in and then lay in wait for him.

It might suggest that.

Mrs. Fletcher, good day.

You onto something, Jessica?

Oh, perhaps nothing.

Has anybody swept the
floor in here since last night?

Not to my knowledge, no.

Father, you told the detectives
that you had a number of parishioners

with keys to the church.

Yes, the sextons.

Can you tell me who they are?

I can do better than that.

I have a list here someplace.

Gave a copy to Sergeant Boyle.

Here it is, here.

Ah, thank you.

Dennis Moylan, Francis O'Hara,

Sean Griffith,
Bernard Mcildowie,

Edmund O'Donnell, Andy Noonan,
Jim Duggan and Bill Mahaffy.

And there's one more that's not on there.
Una O'Reilly. She comes in and sweeps.

Your husband and I had our differences,
but for as short a time as I knew him

I'll respect his memory as
a dedicated businessman.

My profoundness
regrets, Mrs. Griffith.

Thank you.

I've never in my life heard
such smarmy pontification.

Sure you're as happy as the rest
of them to see Ambrose put away.

Go home to your bottle, Mahaffy.

So, the factory stays?

Or might it move mysteriously
to that plot up near Bandon?

You've had too much to drink.

Oh, I'm not accusing you of murder,
boyo. You're too much of a coward!

And as usual, you've got your bleeding
nose too far into other people's business!

There's a little refreshment
this evening, Billy.

You'll come by, won't you?
Oh, you can count on me.

I've reached them all. Who?

The directors of Kilcleer
Woollens. All eight of them.

First, there'll be no
moving up to Sligo.

Good Lord. And the directors
have agreed to take the company

whichever way you see fit, Sean.

(CHUCKLING)

Okay. There's still someone we
should be worried about, brother.

Who the hell's that?

Terry Boyle, a homicide
detective down from Bandon.

(LAUGHING) What, are you daft? What's
a bloody homicide detective got to do

with the mill, or you and me?

(SIGHS) Don't
underestimate him, Patrick.

If I was the one who did Ambrose
in, I'd be worried about Terry Boyle.

Hey, Sean.

For God sakes, don't look at me
like I was a ruddy mad dog killer!

If you did it tell me now.
I'll help you with a story.

Like it was Ambrose going after
you and you killed him in self-defense.

Ten years and I've come back to
find my brother's gone off his trolley!

The man had his
neck wrung, Sean.

You call that self-defense?

How did you know that? Boyle
hasn't told anybody how Ambrose died!

Well, there you are, Mrs.
Fletcher. Been looking for you.

Ah, Mr. Moylan.

This is a grand spot
for a garden, isn't it?

Isn't it? It's
perfectly beautiful.

Oh, I just wanted to tell you that
the lap rug is wrapped up properly

and I'll see to it it's
sent to you on Monday.

(EXCLAIMS) Oh, thank you,
Mr. Moylan. That's very kind of you.

Well, I'm off then, hmm?

Mrs. Fletcher. Mrs.
Fletcher. Siobhan.

The sergeant's got his
mind set on the wrong fella.

Who are you talking
about? Patrick.

Everybody knows him and Ambrose

came close to hitting
each other the other day.

Mrs. Fletcher, you've got to believe
me. Patrick couldn't kill anybody.

Siobhan, tell me the truth
about you and Patrick.

You knew each other before
the other night, didn't you?

Two months ago, the day
before May Day, Patrick came here

planning to meet someone,
but planning to leave right away.

Who was he going to meet?

I don't know.

But that night we were at the
same table at the Creepy Crawly.

I'm sorry, but...

A pub us younger people go to.

We hit it off, if you
know what I mean.

He knew I worked for his mother,
but I never knew he was her son.

We even had a weekend
together at Dingle Bay.

And we wrote to
each other after that.

But he never came back here.

I guess I should have suspected
something. What do you mean?

Well, he was always on my back
about what was going on with the mill,

and the family and
about Ambrose coming.

You're sure that he never told you
whom he was meeting in Kilcleer?

Never.

When I found out who he
really was, Patrick Griffith,

well, my heart was so full.

I was so proud of him, the
way he stood up to Ambrose

and took charge of
things the way he did.

Look, Siobhan.

Sergeant Boyle will want
to know where Patrick was

at the time of the murder.

He promised to meet me.

But he never came.

I know what you're thinking, Mrs.
Fletcher, and I'm thinking the same thing.

They'll say he did in his own father
and now he killed Ambrose, too.

He had every reason to do both.

We'll see about that, Siobhan.

(SCOFFS)

I'm off to the village now, Jessica,
if there's anything you need.

Well, what I really
need is a dust cloth.

Don't you ever use this thing?

Oh, the infernal gadget got
the better of me, I'm afraid.

It's your forbearers
you're after, is it?

Well, hopefully, yes.

Well, good luck then.

(SIGHS) Thank you, Father.

Actually, it's not the McGills
that I am interested in.

(COMPUTER BEEPS)

(UNA SINGING) The
time is yet to leave

He was gone here today

And Donny...

And Donnybrook to me, oh

He went down and clearly
back and down the corner is he

He was gonna be
so kind to go, to go

He could never go to town

(SHUTTER CLICKING)

When they went to sea, oh

(EXCLAIMS) You're after
seeing them, too, are you?

The deenee shee?

The deenee shee?

Aye! The fairies,
as if you didn't know!

Now's the best time to see
them. Dusk and midnight.

May Day was better still.

There was hundreds of them cavorting
around, shameless as they were.

But they didn't
go near the tower.

And why was that?

The gancanagh be
there. That's why.

You told me about them.

Who is the gancanagh, Una?

Him.

He's the fella that
smiles and does you in.

Oh.

And was the gancanagh
there on May Day night?

When Robert fell from the tower?

And was the gancanagh
there last night

when the American man died?

Fiona?

I thought Sergeant
Boyle had left.

Oh, Jessica. He's taking my son.

They think he murdered Ambrose.

FIONA: That message for
Ambrose was from Patrick.

But Patrick only wanted to set
up a meeting to stave off a fight.

His fingerprints were all over the
broken glass in the church window.

Even on the handle of a broom.

Now, what on earth was
that boy up to, Jessica?

Look, Fiona, I am not convinced
that Patrick killed Ambrose.

And with your
help I can prove it.

Oh, tell me how.

The truth.

Fiona, Una O'Reilly was
emotionally involved with Robert.

(GROANS) Was it Graham
Greene who said somewhere

that every novelist has a
splinter of ice in her heart?

(SIGHS)

They were lovers
since she was 16.

Started just after
Patrick was born.

(CHUCKLES) Oh, Fee.

I adjusted.

Well, I learned to live with it.

Sure. What else could I do?

Only now, poor Una, well, she
mourns Robert in the old way.

This morning at the church I
ran across the Griffith records.

And I got confused
by some of the dates.

I mean, the births, the
weddings... What the hell

has my family business got
to do now with the McGills?

Look, I'm talking about
you and Bill Mahaffy.

We were very close once.

Well, now that's something
of an understatement, Fee.

Billy left for Belfast
in February of '63.

You married Robert two
months later. April 10th.

Patrick was born November 13th.

Now, I was at your wedding and I
remember you being a touch ill that day

and it never occurred to me

that you might have been
suffering from morning sickness.

Billy and I were crazy
about each other.

Before he left we
made love just once.

(LAUGHS) Sure, like
they say, that's all it takes.

Up there beyond in Belfast he had
that silly accident that almost killed him.

And I didn't know, Jess.

All I knew was that he'd
stopped writing. He just vanished.

And Robert?

Oh, Robert. He'd been
after me. Very insistent.

Very worldly, Robert was.

Oh, I remember your wedding
came on rather short notice.

(SIGHS) Later I found out that Billy
had been in a coma for 10 weeks.

Well, Robert was a bright man.

He didn't need an adding machine to
know that Billy and I had been close.

He never forgave me.

Neither did Billy.

If anyone paid the price
it was Billy's poor child.

Poor Patrick.

You know, if the police ever
find out anything about this

they'll be even more
convinced he killed both men.

Look, I'll be gone for a while.
Try to pull yourself together.

Nothing's lost yet.

PATRICK: If you're here to
discuss my paternity, Mrs. Fletcher,

you can go out the
same door you came in.

Look, Patrick. If you're trying to
protect Bill Mahaffy, well, don't.

Just the truth.

You were here the day before
May Day. What brought you back?

Well, you seem to know
everything. You tell me.

All that time in Dublin you'd
been receiving money orders.

You came back to Kilcleer and
found that it was Bill Mahaffy.

Sure. And I put two
and two together.

The day my father...

The day Robert Griffith died,

Billy admitted he was my father.

Jessica, it was like a
door opening in my head.

We talked into the wee hours

and I saw

what my mother
saw in him long ago.

You made an appointment to meet
Ambrose the night that he was killed.

I have to know what happened.

We were to meet
outside the church.

(CHURCH BELL RINGING)

Just when I got there, the bells
started ringing in a crazy fashion.

The door was open
and Ambrose was dead.

JESSICA: You assumed that it was Bill
Mahaffy who had killed him on your behalf.

PATRICK: Well, he
had a key to the church.

And with all that clanging I figured
there'd be company soon enough.

JESSICA: So, you
smashed the window

to make it appear that
the killer didn't have a key.

PATRICK: I had to bring all
the pieces back into the alcove

so it would appear that the window
had been broken from the outside.

JESSICA: Missing one piece,
which you left in the garden.

Thank you for
the truth, Patrick.

Perhaps I can help you.

Time, Mrs. Fletcher. Of course.

Ah, Sergeant Boyle, in the
church alcove this morning

did you happen to notice
the residue of a black

powder-like substance?

No. My men didn't mention it.

Is this something critical
to the case, Mrs. Fletcher?

Hmm.

Critical?

I should say so. Oh, how
could I have missed it?

BOYLE: What? Missed what?

Sergeant, would you
happen to know a shop

where I could buy some
buttons at this hour?

Well...

Try Noonan's Varieties.
Down the street, sharp left.

Thank you. Noonan's Varieties.

(CHATTERING)

Jessica, where have you been?

Fiona, Patrick is not
guilty of Ambrose's murder.

Oh, thanks be to God.

But who? But if
it wasn't Patrick...

Don't rush the lady, Mr. Moylan.

So, you've come up with
a conclusion then, Jessica?

I'm not sure, Father.

But there are some things
in the parish computer

that I want to print
out and go over tonight.

Of course. I've a sick
parishioner on the north side.

I can drop you off on the way.

Oh, thank you, Father.

Fiona.

Mrs. Griffith, I'll be in touch with
you about the service for Ambrose.

(CLOCK TICKING)

(DOOR CLOSING)

I thought you'd be long
gone by now, Mrs. Fletcher.

Ah, Mr. Moylan. I
thought it might be you.

I recognized your tobacco.

(LAUGHING) Ah, well.

(DOOR CLOSING)

I was on my way
home. I saw the light

and I worried about
Father Timothy's poor box.

You... You got
your print-outs then?

Oh, yes, thank you. Yes.

Then a thought occurred to me.

A missing button.

From your sleeve, I
believe, Mr. Moylan.

(CHUCKLING) Well, I figured you were
onto something when you told Mrs. Griffith

that Patrick couldn't
be the guilty party.

Now... Now 'tis true, I've
been missing this button, but...

There's a perfectly
logical explanation?

Yes, I think there is.

When I saw you at
the dance contest,

the three buttons on your
right sleeve were there.

Then today, talking to
Sergeant Boyle, I was reminded

that when I saw you in the garden the
morning after Ambrose was murdered,

your button was missing.

(LAUGHING) Is this... Is
this some kind of a lark?

Mrs. Fletcher, I do believe
you're accusing me of murder.

What possible reason would I
have for killing Ambrose Griffith?

I made a call late this
afternoon to county records.

They confirmed that the site for the new
factory that you and Sean wanted to build

near Bandon was
deeded in your name.

(STAMMERING) Yes,
a substantial investment.

Giving you every reason to want to
prevent the mill from moving to Sligo.

So, first you killed Robert
Griffith, then Ambrose.

Both for the same motive.

The one thing the two
murders had in common

was the gancanagh.

(LAUGHING) The gancanagh?

Oh, you're dealing myth in more
ways than one, Mrs. Fletcher.

Not in the mind of Una O'Reilly.

My guess is

that she'd arranged to meet
Robert Griffith here May Day night

and saw you push
him from the bell tower.

Then last night, I believe she
must've seen you kill Ambrose.

In her confused mind, you
became the dreaded gancanagh,

who was never... Never
without his dudeen.

Right you are.

(CHUCKLING)

Unfortunately, Ambrose
gave me a bit of a problem

and then I dropped my
pipe, here on the floor.

Patrick thought it was Mahaffy's
pipe that left the unburned tobacco.

He tried to sweep it up, but it
left a black residue on the floor.

Also on the brush.

It came close to making
him the primary suspect.

And that's the way it's
going to stay, Mrs. Fletcher.

That's enough, Moylan.

Your own words will convict you.

JESSICA: I made two
phone calls, Mr. Moylan.

The other was to Sergeant Boyle.

I don't know where
your button got to.

It was only your guilt that made
you think that it was this one.

Courtesy of Noonan's Varieties.

(GASPS)

JESSICA: There, stand by the
banister and give me a great big smile.

Lovely! One more! One more!

Whoops.

Perfect!

(BOTH LAUGHING)

(CAR HONKING)

Oh, there's Sean and
Patrick with the car.

Let's not make it
so long next time.

Oh, thanks for everything.
I love you, Jessica.

I love you, Fee.

Now, about Bill
Mahaffy. You're not...

No, not a word
about Bill Mahaffy

till we see if we
can get him sober.

(EXCLAIMS) I almost forgot.
I had some film developed.

I took some really extraordinary
pictures at Saint Broderick's.

Mmm.

Now, am I imagining things,

or isn't that a little fairy person
there in among the flowers?

And you see the little
feathered wing there?

(SPEAKING LOCAL LANGUAGE)

No, look. You tell me now. Isn't that
a little man's face among the trees?

I think you need to get
your camera fixed, girl.

(LAUGHING)