Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 11, Episode 20 - Another Killing in Cork - full transcript

Jessica stays with Irish friends in a hotel which mainly caters for salmon-fishermen, in Kilcleer, a Cork county town. The locals are divided between supporters of Walter Ickes's consortium for industrial innovation supported by Councilman Harold Early, and environmentalists, lead by Tom Dempsey, whose car is according to him run off the road. Edward Pryce is missing, and blood is found by the police team lead by Sgt. Terence Boyle, who Jessica knows and trusts from an earlier case, and as Jesica guesses his body is found in the wish-well. New York salmon-fisher Freddie Layton is arrested because his fingerprints were on the lethal stone.

"My dear Jessica.

"Your letter came
only yesterday,

"so I hope to blazes
this reaches you in time.

"Since you're going to London,

"I'd consider it an
insult to an old friend

"if you don't spend
your spare week

"with Kate and me in Kilcleer.

"My current lodgers
are a queer lot.

"God knows there may be a
story for you here in Kilcleer.

"Kate sends her love, as do I.

"Tom."



I'll see you and your
precious borough council

go to hell in a basket

before I let you and
his bloody consortium

dig up this valley
looking for gold!

Ah! Take it easy, Tom.

I'll remind you that
mineral rights in Ireland

are reserved to the state.

You need planning
permission from the council

and you need a license from
the Department of Energy!

The council will approve, Tom.

Yeah, with your prodding!

Well, the answer's still no.

Win or lose, this matter'll
be settled in Dublin

in a court of law,
three years from now!



And not in your bloody council.

Mr. Dempsey. What?

We can appreciate your concern

for the ecology of this valley.

But there've been a lot
of technical advances.

The heap-leach liner, for one.

Your heap-leach
liner leaks, Mr. Ickes,

and you know it.

You know, Harold
here was telling me

that you're having a bit of
difficulty making ends meet

up there at the
lodge and fishery.

My company would be
willing to subsidize you.

Stuff your money, both of you!

What the hell are you
doing here, Dennis?

Supposed to be out on the river.

It's my day off, Tom.

And he put me on the Citizens'
Committee for Development.

Well, we're an urban
people now, Tom.

Industry is the
future of Ireland.

The engine that'll
run the Irish economy.

They got through to you with
their bill of goods, too, didn't they?

You're a gillie,
Dennis, a fisherman,

not a bloody gold miner!

Well, so much for your
Irish diplomacy, Harold.

It'll take a little
more time, that's all.

Oh, yeah, and
three years from now

we're gonna lose
it all in the courts?

No, thanks.

He cannot be allowed to
stand in the way any longer.

What do you mean
by that, Walter?

I read about the
Colorado senator

who was blocking your
development in San Isidro.

He was killed.

And you know that they found
it to be an unfortunate accident.

Which it was, Harold. Now...

What it is, Jessica, is the
mining industry has a skillful lobby.

Provides a lot of money
to those in the government

who favor industrialization
and exploitation.

Miranda Mining.

Didn't they leave quite a mess
back in the Colorado Rockies?

San Isidro.

A hundred million
dollars cleanup job.

They poisoned 70
miles of streams.

Polluted the water table.

It's not gonna
happen here, Jess.

In the meantime, you have
to keep your head above water

at the lodge and the fishery.

You know, the last
time I heard from Kate,

she didn't sound too
happy about things.

Ah, you know Katy.

Tom, look out!

Did you see that
nasty-looking fellow, Jess?

Aren't we dressed
up on our day off?

The Councilman Early
asked me to meet Tom

and Mr. Ickes, that
fellow from America.

Well, I doubt you had a
lot to say in that company.

Don't worry, I put in my
shilling's worth, Brigid.

I'll bet you did!

And Mr. Early, he asked
about you, by the way.

Well, you know how
he keeps after me.

It's nothing a
girl can't handle.

Sure, if she wants to.

Well, if that isn't a
nasty thing to say!

You know how I feel about you.

And what? I suppose I haven't
made my feelings clear as well?

Jessica! Are you ever a
sight for sore eyes, girl!

It's so good to see you, Kate!

Make Jessica comfortable
and I'll be in for dinner.

Thank you, Shauna.

Your car came back from
the garage by the way.

Ah.

You didn't settle
a thing, did you?

Well, now is not the time to
talk about something like that.

You're gonna spoil
Jessica's moment.

I'll see you this evening. Yes.

Poor bloke. He's been in London
all last month looking for a loan.

Me, I'd settle for a
wee thatched cottage

with geraniums under every
window and let the years slip by.

I know.

Brigid, show Mrs.
Fletcher her room.

Thanks.

Dinner's at 7:00.
Make yourself at home.

I'm home already!

No, it's not your
imagination, Tom.

Now, this bearded fellow's been
mucking around the valley all week.

I told you, Shamus.
Has he got a name?

Well, not that anybody's heard.

Flanagan saw him drinking down
at the pub, but he's not lodging there.

Nor is he at any of the bed
and breakfast houses around.

He could be camping.

Listen, you tell the
lads when they see him

to ask his name and
what his business is.

And I'll bet he
doesn't tell you a thing,

'cause he's got consortium
spy written all over him.

My preference at low water

would always be
the Woolly Bugger,

and at high, Ally's Shrimp
or a General Practitioner.

Or, if I'm going wet, I've had jolly
good luck with the Blue Badger.

How very
knowledgeable, Mr. Ruddy.

And how come the
impoverished salmon

haven't found you
in over a week?

You've lost two guests this
past week over the lack of fish.

I don't blame the fish, however, so
much as the guide you've given me.

He's incompetent.

Shamus Riley's the most
experienced gillie I've got.

He tells me you won't fish the
waters that he recommends to you.

There you are. You see?

That's Cyril for you.

Won't dip his fly
in home waters!

Tom rotates the beats tomorrow,
Mr. Ruddy. Don't you, Tom?

Of course. Perhaps
everyone will have better luck.

Telephone, Mr. Layton.

Tell me about
your Freddie, Laura.

Has marriage turned
him into a cold fish?

I can't tell, Nellie.

Freddie's not my husband yet.

Ladies and gentlemen.

Now, Kate tells me
I'm given to verbosity.

Here, here.

So I'm allowed one
speech a day, and this is it.

I hold, twixt me thumb
and forefinger, a wet fly

that's caught more 10-
and 12-pound salmon

between Ballyhooly and Delphi
than you can poke a stick at.

And it's called, paradoxically,
the Black Mariah.

Now there's the Irish mind for
you, because it's yellow. Look at that.

Anyway, I have
a plentiful supply

for each and every one
of you tomorrow morning.

And now, may the
holes in your nets

be no bigger than your fish!

I take it that salmon fishing

is not your priority, Mr. Pryce.

So what brings you to Kilcleer?

It's Edward.

And if you mean am I
somewhat underwhelmed

by Tom's Black
Mariah, you're right.

I teach English, as
I think you once did.

But I'm here owing to my
real interest, which is botany.

Oh.

It's in USA Today? My God!

What did it say?

I've gotta see this for myself.

I don't know where I'm
gonna get a copy around here.

All right.

We didn't speak. You don't
have a clue as to where I am.

You've picked a right time
to get into a row with him.

It serves him right.

I'm not gonna be bossed, Shauna.

I can't believe
you didn't tell him.

Every time I'm ready to,
he's in a mood that'd spoil it.

Another month and
he'll know for himself.

You'll be showing, girl!

Come on, ladies, stop prattling.

Where's the coffee?

So, Mr. Pryce, you'll be
tramping all over these hills,

looking for some rare
variety of exotic what?

Oh, uh... As a matter of fact,
a rare species of poinciana.

But you tell me,

to borrow from Polonius,
aside from writing,

what is the whirlwind
of your passion?

My passion.

Well, I suppose I'd
have to say my roots.

I had a great-grandfather
who lived down in the valley,

and of course, catching
up with Tom and Kate.

Nellie, my girl, the
gentleman spoke of passion.

Oh, it offends me to the soul

to hear a robustious,
periwig-pated fellow

tear a passion to
tatters, to very rags,

to split the ears of the
groundlings... Oh, Cyril, do shut up!

He'd go on all
night if I let him.

Mr. Pryce,

I heard you were
planning a trip to the village.

Would you take a passenger?

Of course. Come along.

Thank you. I'll just freshen up.

Be back in a mo.

Oh, don't forget your
book. Legends of Kilcleer.

I've been looking
all over for this.

I'd love to borrow it
from you sometime.

Of course you
may, after tomorrow.

There are some botanical
references I want to check out.

After that, I'll
let you have it.

Thanks.

Trade places with me.

You take the 18 house
guests every night of the week.

No way.

And I thought
writing was torture!

Stop your carping, Harold.

My people have dealt with these
environmental blowhards before.

This matter'll be over
before you know it.

Who exactly is this man of
yours you keep talking about?

Someone with
influence in Dublin?

Not exactly.

He has influence, yes, but
it's subtle, yet very effective.

Never failed us yet.

You just keep thinking
about your percentage.

Well, who're these young ladies?

Oh, there's Mr. Early
with the American.

Shauna, no, I don't want to.

He wants us to talk to him.

Brigid, there's no harm
if we have a drink or two.

Shauna, stop it! Come on!

Kilcleer's monument
to integrity and principle!

Him and that
mealy-mouthed American

would like to do a little bit
more than just mine the valley.

Ah, get off it, Shamus.

I was talking to Tom.

I'd be surprised if you didn't,
him being the boss and all.

He was asking me what
truck you have going with Early.

It's not Tom's business what
I do with my life or my politics.

He loves you, boy.

He thinks of you as his son.

Look, I don't need another
conscience, Shamus!

So if Tom asked
you to talk to me...

It's me that's asking!

I'm here on my own hook.

Ah, well, then save it.

There's a lot of
old fellas like you

who see no future
beyond the salmon,

and that view will be
the ruination of Ireland.

Maybe it's an idle
question, Nellie,

but what's Mr. Ruddy
doing tomorrow?

Fishing. What else?

Well, about lunchtime I'll
be through with my walk.

I'll be down by the river bank.

Well, aren't you the one!

We can have a picnic.

It's very nice down
there by the river.

Yes!

Yes, we could.

Ah, Kate, these Irish
breakfasts will be the end of me.

I mean, fruit and porridge and
sausages, eggs, mushrooms,

and then that
delectable soda bread

with butter
slathered all over it.

And you can't resist any of it.

Well, maybe
tomorrow, but not today!

Hold on there, Cyril. Can't
have you out on the river

without my Black Mariah.

All right. I'll
wear it for luck.

Good morning, Jessica.

You'd think this place was going
to live or die on that silly fly of his.

Ah, but the Black Mariah, Kate,
if it caught salmon in Ballyhooly...

Ah, go on! It'll be no
better than any other.

But these poor fools
will believe Tom.

I wish I did.

I'd better get
started in the rooms.

If you're bored...

Ah, don't even think about it.

Tom's gonna take me
down and show me the ruins.

All right, then.

Morning.

Oh. You're looking at a compulsive
straightener-outer, Jessica.

Well, have a nice day.

Thank you.

There's the moor, Jess.

This is what's left of
the old British garrison.

Torched by the IRA in 1916.

Hey.

They even stuffed a couple of Black
and Tans down the old well there.

Oh.

You know, my McGill family
history says that my grandmother

had a father who died
somewhere around here.

Bless him.

The pagan heart
and the Christian soul

feed the roots of the
Irish temperament.

The pagans, good
Catholics all, told me

this place is inhabited
by ghosts and goblins.

I can believe that.

And the good thing is
there's fairies here, too.

You make a wish,
then you drop a penny.

And the wee folk will
have your wish come true?

Mine's not so much a
wish as a curse, Jess.

Well, you heard Mr. Dempsey.

You don't have one
of his Black Mariahs.

I'm sorry. Can we get by
with the flies we've got?

Sure. Here, give me
your rod. Watch what I do.

Listen, I gotta make a phone
call. I'll be back in a minute.

This beat's no better than
any of the others, Riley.

Sure, there's no helping
you at all, Mr. Ruddy.

Why don't you use one of
the Black Mariahs Tom said?

You've got one
on your vest there.

If a Blue Badger
won't do it, nothing will.

Just get out of my way.

I will.

And roast you!

Ah, princess?

I hope you're in the mood for
a good California chardonnay.

I promise I'll be
back in the morning!

What is going on, Freddie?

You shut me out!

Why did you bring me here
if we're not even gonna...

A good day's fishing, what?

Isn't he a beauty?
12:00 this morning.

Jolly good.

We certainly didn't
come here to go fishing.

That guide of yours, Dennis,

he came back saying
you walked out on him.

Where'd you go?

I went to make a
phone call. Now drop it.

Sure.

Ladies and gentlemen,
the long drought is broken.

Mr. Ruddy is credited

with the first salmon over
10 pounds in four weeks.

Oh! Well done! Bravo! Bravo!

Thank you.

And I may say it was
off a Blue Badger,

not your fabled
Black Mariah fly.

Cyril.

Tom, what happened to
Mr. Pryce and Mr. Layton?

I don't know.

Freddie took the car into
Cork. He had an errand there.

Mr. Pryce left a note on
the kitchen board, ma'am,

saying not to
expect him for dinner.

Thank you, Shauna.

Well, I can tell you,
he won't go hungry.

He went off this morning with
a picnic big enough for a horse!

Was it a cozy little
picnic, you and Mr. Pryce?

Oh, it could've
been quite beautiful

if the blighter had shown up!

Oh, Cyril, do stop drinking.
You'll embarrass us both.

Find anything fun to
read here, Laura, hmm?

I'm not sure.

It says in here they fed a trial batch
of trout fry hormone-treated food,

and the milt from the
sex-reversed "masculinized" females

was used to
fertilize sea trout ova.

How the heck do you
masculinize a female?

Well, I thought that
was a major operation.

But do you suppose they sew a wee
Irish vest and pants for the wee fishy?

You hid the electric
bill in the spoon drawer.

I just didn't want to
bother you, that's all.

Meaning we haven't the money.

Sure we have. Just wait
till this group's checks clear.

Meantime, the
lights'll be cut off.

Or the lamps. We're
out of kerosene.

Richie Donald said he'd
stay open. I'll see you.

You represent the
future of Ireland.

We're asking you to
keep an eye out, that's all.

In plain language, you're
asking me to spy, Mr. Early.

Dennis, in a couple of
years, with on-the-job training,

you'll be qualified in
resource management.

You'll be making 10
times what you do now.

And major companies
like Mr. Ickes'

are prepared to invest
in those who qualify.

Young men like yourself!

A little down payment,
Dennis, against the future.

All I'm asking is
you let me know

what Dempsey is doing,
what he plans against us.

Look, I'm sorry, man.
I'm with you in principle,

but this, I... Oh, for
goodness' sakes!

Brigid keeps telling
me you two want

to put away enough
to tie the knot.

And this'd be enough
for a down payment

on that cottage of Dempsey's
you've been looking at,

and then some.

Into your pocket with it.

If you change your
mind, no harm done.

I know I'll see it back.

Always nagging about money.

Women.

What?

It was a blatant
attempt on my life, Boyle!

Look, the car had just come
back from a checkup at Mulroony's.

Now, don't you...

If there'd been a problem with the ball
joints, don't you think he'd have seen it?

As I said, it'll be checked
thoroughly, Mr. Dempsey,

though I doubt we'll find anything more
than evidence of normal wear and tear.

Wear and tear my...

Tom, sit still, will you?

When you do check
the car, Sergeant,

on the off chance
that Tom's right,

there'll be fingerprints
that don't belong.

I'm sure I don't need to be reminded of the
fundamentals of police procedure, ma'am.

A word of advice.

Stop making damaging accusations
against Councilman Early.

The laws against libel here in Ireland
are much more severe than in America.

You gave me quite a turn!

Oh, I'm sorry, Jessica.

I didn't mean to startle
you. It is kind of spooky.

Have you seen Tom this morning?

Yes. And aside from a bad
bump on his head, he's okay.

He was out early, as usual.

Certain times of day,

you get the most incredible
contrasts in sunlight and shadow.

It's like some people I know.

I thought Freddie had whisked
me off to Ireland to propose.

Maybe we'd even get
married someplace.

Wrong?

Oh, right.

He's got some problem
he won't tell me about.

Oh.

Well, in that case,
you need a wish.

Now, legend has it that if
you drop a penny down here,

the fairies will see that
your wish comes true.

Really?

Well, when all else fails...

Okay, fairies, do your thing.

I happen to know you were having
dinner with that creep Early last night!

And who the hell told you that?

The bloody
bartender, that's who!

And I'm telling you to mind
your own bloody business!

What I do on my
time is my business!

Dennis, Dennis, what in
the hell is happening to us?

Look, you think you own me, Tom.

Well, I can't be beholden
to you all me life.

All right! What kind of blood
money they paying you?

Hi, Jess.

I'm sorry you had to hear that.

Jessica and every Tom,
Dick and Harry in the village.

Somewhere I went
awfully wrong with that boy.

Oh, just listen to
the poor creature.

In case you hadn't noticed,
Tom, he's a grown man.

You know, it sounded more to me as if
he just wanted to make up his own mind

about a few things.

Before you go off,

I was worried about Mr. Pryce.

He hasn't been back since last
night. I rang Sergeant Boyle...

Boyle? What do you want
with that blithering idiot?

Tom, if it's the same Sergeant Boyle
that I met last time I was in Kilcleer,

he's no idiot.

And, nevertheless, I rang him,

and he's going to have
his men out looking.

Pryce.

Pryce is as randy
as all get-out.

He's probably taken up with
some little girl in the village.

Goodbye, Kate.

Tom.

Oh, now. What is it, girl?

I'm frightened for you is all.

For us. Please, be careful.

Of course. Everything's
going to be all right.

I wanted landscapes
without people,

but here and there somebody I
didn't see through the wide lens

turns up like Waldo.

Here, look.

Oh.

Now, that Waldo looks like the man
that Tom and I saw on the road from Cork

day before yesterday.

Isn't that Ed Pryce
down by the river?

Laura? I'm back.

Late but great. Just gonna take
a shower. I'll see you guys later.

Hi, Jessica. Hello.

- I - want this put in a bag.

Right. Have him come here,
get him down now. Okay.

It's blood, all right. Get
everything to the lab in Cork.

And it'd be nice if you
could find whoever spilt it.

I must emphasize that all we've
found thus far is possible foul play.

Pray it's nothing
more than that.

I'm suggesting that it's not in
your best interest at this point

to alarm your other guests.

Your sensitivity
overwhelms me, Sergeant.

But it's as plain as
the nose on your face,

something's happened to Pryce.

Tom, the Sergeant's
doing all he can.

More coffee, Sergeant Boyle?

Oh, yes. Thank you, Shauna.

Brigid and I had a thought.

The ruins being so near,

have you considered
the wee people?

The wee people, Shauna?

They're known to carry
people off, aren't they?

I think you're being a wee
bit cheeky with me, Shauna.

Sergeant, wait.

You know, Shauna has just reminded
me of something very important.

Ding, ding, ding,
and then nothing.

Ding, ding, ding?

Have you partaken
of a drop or two, Jess?

No! No, but I think I know
where we'll find Mr. Pryce.

Easy. Easy.

Hold it.

All right. Let him down.

I remembered the sound, Tom.

I mean, yesterday, when we
dropped our pennies down the well

there was a distinct splash.

That means there was
water. There always is.

Right. Except when Laura and I did
it this morning, there was no splash.

An obstruction.
Good for you, Jess!

Here comes the genius.

Coroner O'Hara believes Mr. Pryce
died from a savage blow to the head,

and his watch got smashed,
probably in the well, at 3:18.

So the murder must have
occurred sometime before then.

At least as long as it took to
bring the body up from the river.

Is it my luck or yours
that we have a murder

each time you visit
Kilcleer, Mrs. Fletcher?

Maybe the luck of
the Irish, Sergeant.

I'll be needing to see
your guests and staff.

All right.

No, I'm the chief accountant

at the Overhill
Corporation of New York.

I have a card here.

This has my phone
number and address.

Although I'd appreciate it if
you would not call the company.

I never know what
they might think.

We'll do what we
have to, Mr. Layton.

I understand.

Thank you for your time.

I don't care if you're
the Lord Mayor of Dublin,

I'm accusing you, and
that sleazebag Ickes,

of an outright
attempt on my life!

Is that the best you can
come up with, Dempsey?

You killed an innocent man

in your maniacal belief he was
some kind of spy for the consortium.

Gentlemen, please.

Oh, now, wait a
minute. Wait a minute.

Can you tell me what the hell
he's doing in my house, Boyle?

There's been a murder, Terence, and
as councilman, it's my duty to be here.

Furthermore... Furthermore,
these are my premises,

and it's my duty to see
you the hell out of here.

Now, if you don't do it, he's
gonna feel the toe of my boot.

Uh, Mr. Early,
better do as he says.

I'll fill you in on my
investigation, don't worry.

Right.

You are flipping daft, man.

Treating a borough
councilman like that.

Is that the uniform talking, or the 300
acres you own north end of the valley?

How much did Mr. Ickes
offer you for that, Sergeant?

Ah, good evening,
Sergeant Boyle.

Good evening, Mrs.
Fletcher. If you don't mind,

we've been having a bit of trouble pinning
down just who or what Edward Pryce was.

There's no identification, no
personal papers of any kind.

Well, he said that he was an
English teacher cum amateur botanist.

But you have your doubts?

Yes.

On my first night here,

he attributed a very well-known
speech of Hamlet's to Polonius.

I mean, anybody claiming to
teach English would know better.

He also fared very
badly as a botanist.

Well, I'm neither a Shakespeare
scholar nor a botanist, Mrs. Fletcher.

Well, he said that he was searching
for a rare species of poinciana,

which happens to
be a tropical plant.

I'm sure you'll not find
it anywhere in Ireland.

There was a book that
Mr. Pryce promised to lend me.

It was called The
Legends of Kilcleer.

You didn't happen to find it
among his belongings, did you?

There was precious
little of anything.

No. No such item, I'm afraid.

Well, I'll be saying good night.

I thank you for your time.

Good night,
Sergeant. Good night.

Yes.

So let me summarize
it for you, sweet thing.

Men are good first for sex.

Well, depending
on who, you know.

Then cash in the old handbag
next, and permanency comes last.

You have merely
reversed the procedure.

So... Laura, I've been
looking all over for you.

I thought you'd jumped
a plane or something.

You two want to
be alone. No, Nellie.

Yes, you do.

Speak with your
heart, if you have one.

Laura tells me it's withered

in the world of
commerce and industry.

She loves you.
It's to your credit.

God bless.

I love you.

I don't think I give
a damn anymore.

Listen, the only reason
why I went to Cork

is because they have a newsstand
there that carries USA Today,

and I had to wait for
the morning delivery.

Why on Earth would you need...

'Cause my picture is spread
all over the Thursday edition.

There's a bunch of money missing
from one of the accounts that I supervise.

I swear, I had
nothing to do with it.

But they're accusing
me and saying I skipped.

Well, why didn't you tell me
that in the first place, then?

I didn't want to spoil anything.

I wanted this to be
what you wanted it to be,

a surprise marriage and
honeymoon rolled into one, and I...

We'll go back tomorrow and you'll
clear it up and we'll carry on from there.

I'll make it up to
you, I promise I will.

What's going on?

Mr. Layton, I have to ask you
to accompany me to the station.

Can I ask why?

Some questions.

Among them,

how your fingerprints appeared
on the stone that killed Mr. Pryce.

Well, I was
fishing by the river.

I could've touched
any number of rocks.

Your gillie McSorley says you
left the beat to make a phone call.

And you were alone with no
witness on the road to Cork

about the time that
Mr. Pryce lost his life.

New York says you're in
grave trouble there, too.

We need to have
a chat, Mr. Layton.

Sergeant, I'm quite sure that
Mr. Layton will return to New York

and face whatever
charges they have,

but none of this warrants his
being arrested here in Kilcleer.

Oh, I'm not
arresting Mr. Layton.

He's just coming in for questioning
on your own volition, isn't that right?

I'll be back soon, doll.

Still no luck
identifying Mr. Pryce.

But I'm told the Overhill Corporation
sent a private investigator after Layton,

and he hasn't been heard
from since early yesterday.

You think the
investigator was Pryce?

What, that Freddie killed
him to get him off his trail?

Laura, I want another look
at those photos that you took.

Yeah, you remember this
one with the strange man in it?

I took that at noon,
day before yesterday.

And this is the one I took yesterday
around 3:00 with no people in it.

Ah, very nice.

But 3:00, are you quite sure?

Well, it had to be, because it
was just before I wrapped up

and came in for tea.

Yes. But look at the
two pictures together.

I mean, the angle of the
sunlight and the shadows.

I mean, they're
almost identical.

Are you sure you took
the first one around noon?

I might've goofed
a little on the time.

What does that have
to do with anything?

Laura, it means that this first photo
would've been shot around 3:00 as well.

So that means Mr. Pryce
was still alive at 3:00.

Well, let's get a
good night's sleep.

We've got lots to do tomorrow.

But why in God's name
didn't you tell me, Bridge?

I wanted to know that you were
marrying me because you loved me,

not because you had to.

What a little fool you are, hmm?

You didn't know it could
only make me love you more.

Well, it's a simple thing. We will be
married in Newport next weekend.

Sure, and then what?

The wee man will
be arriving in October.

And how do you
know it won't be a girl,

as pretty and as
clever as her ma?

I saw Dr. McDowell
today. He did a test.

He'll be a boy, as handsome
and intelligent as his da.

Bridge. What would you say
if I had in my pocket right now

money enough so
you could quit working,

and we could put a down
payment on the Dempseys' cottage,

with a little left over?

I'd say you were clean bonkers.

Where would you get that
kind of money unless it was...

What are you saying, Dennis?

It's from Mr. Early. So I'd spy
on Tom for him and Mr. Ickes.

Oh, Lord.

What're you going to do?

I'll have to think
it out, Bridge.

But I'll do what's
best for us. I will.

If you're looking for Laura,
she was up with the birds

and went to see Freddie
at the police station.

Oh, good for her. Actually,
I was looking for a book

that Mr. Pryce had, Kate.

Legends of Kilcleer?

No, sorry, I didn't see it.

Sergeant Boyle's news about
that investigator following Freddie,

it changes things, doesn't it?

No, I don't think so.

You must know
something we don't.

Or is it simply one
of your intuitions?

Jess?

What is it?

Oh. Nothing.

I just phoned London and
I'm expecting a callback.

Let me know as soon
as it comes in, all right?

Get on with it, the pair of you!

The more you know that lady, the
less you'll know, and that's the truth.

Bingo.

Kate said you were
up to something.

What have you got there, Jess?

Edward Pryce's book.

Oh. Well, if it
concerns his murder

or the survival of something I hold
very dear, could you share it with me

before you give it
to that ass Boyle?

Oh, well, of course, Tom.

You know, it seems that Edward
Pryce followed quite a strange itinerary,

from San Isidro in Colorado.

You know, I believe
a state senator

was blocking Miranda
Mining's development there

when he met a rather
unfortunate accident.

Hotel here. Hotel there. All the way
through England and on to Glasgow.

Until he ended up
here at your lodge.

You know, if Sergeant Boyle is
right, he was following Freddie Layton.

But that doesn't
fit with the facts.

I mean, what was his purpose,

and what was so much at stake
for a man to be murdered over?

It had to be about
the consortium.

Perhaps.

Tom, I'm gonna trust you to
see that Sergeant Boyle gets this,

and I'm sure that it will
help to clear Freddie Layton.

Sure. Of course, Jess.

See, when the geological
survey comes in, we'll be fine.

Dennis. Can I buy you a pint?

No, thanks.

I've thought about your
proposal, gentlemen.

And with all thanks
for your largesse,

I'm declining.

But why, for God's sakes?

This money is a beginning
for yourself and Brigid.

The money wouldn't be
a beginning, Mr. Early.

It'd be an end.

You see, for all Tom
Dempsey's faults,

he's still too good a
man to be betrayed.

You're going to abandon the
future of your country to that idiot?

What does Brigid
say? I'm sure she...

It's not about Ireland.

And Brigid
understands that view.

You see, we're... We're
going to be parents.

And whatever
our difficulties now,

we don't want to start our
boy off on blood money.

He'll understand that when he's
old enough to look his pa in the eye.

And as for my country, it's
yours and mine, Mr. Early,

not Mr. Ickes', nor
any consortium's.

Now, I'm still for Ireland, but
not at the price you're asking.

That's lovely.

Yes, Jerry. As a matter
of fact, I am fishing.

So it was the Shropshire
Repertory Company.

Go on.

And one of those three
names is Edward Montgomery.

Yes, I've got it. Oh,
God, you're an angel.

Listen, I'll be in London
day after tomorrow,

we'll definitely have lunch,

and it's on me. Right!

Bye-bye.

Well, it's adieu to the Ruddys.

Off to the warm Antilles, huh?

Hey, listen, bon voyage, Cyril.

Thanks. Nellie.

You'll be back next year, God
willing, to catch some salmon.

Not bothering about
catching murderers, of course.

Speaking of which,
Mrs. Fletcher,

who's very experienced
in this kind of thing,

is convinced that Freddie
Layton is not the guilty party.

Despite the opinions of our paradigm
of constabulary, Sergeant Boyle.

Who is it then, Jessica?

I haven't the faintest idea,

except to say that
the police have

concentrated their
investigation at the river,

and I believe that the proof
will be found elsewhere.

Oh? And where
would that be, Jessica?

At the ruins, Nellie.

And oddly enough, it has to do
with one of those Black Mariah flies

that Tom put so much stock in.

Well, after-dinner
refreshments in the library, folks.

Telephone for you, Mr. Ickes.

Ickes.

Yes, yes.

Well, then you do what you must!

Goodness' sakes, Tom.

You scared the life out of me!

Kate was worried
when you left the lodge.

What the hell are
you doing, Jess?

Well, I'm looking for something,
though I don't expect to find it,

but I think that Pryce's
killer may believe that I might.

You're not making
any sense, Jess.

Look, when they brought
Pryce up yesterday,

one of your precious Black Mariah
flies was hooked to his jacket.

Pryce isn't a fisherman. Oh.

You mean the killer wore the fly
and it got hooked on Pryce's jacket?

It was snagged accidentally when
he was carried up from the river.

Now, according to Dennis, Freddie
Layton didn't have the Black Mariah either,

but I think I know who did.

Yeah. Go on.

Your bearded stranger, Tom.

A photo Laura Maples
showed me confirmed

that he was very close
to the scene at 3:00

the afternoon that
Pryce was killed.

A call from London tonight told
me who it was that Pryce followed

from San Isidro to Kilcleer.

Then the note Pryce
supposedly left in your kitchen

to say that he wouldn't
be in for dinner,

it didn't match his
own handwriting,

convincing me that it had to be one of
your staff or your guests who killed Pryce,

and a second one who carried
his body up from the river.

You're still talking
riddles, Jess.

This bearded fella, he's not one of
my staff, and he's not one of my guests.

I'm afraid she is.

Hello, Nellie.

Or should I say Mrs.
Edward Montgomery?

Well done, Jessica.

Top hole all the way.

I heard you make that first
call to Jerry Hardwick in London.

I assume that's how you found out about
my husband's tour with the Shropshire Rep?

Playing Polonius in
Shakespeare's Hamlet.

A tour Edward Pryce
followed very closely,

uncertain as to which actor was
the assassin that he was after.

Yes, you had to find his
bloody book, didn't you?

He'd been on our tail since
that incident in San Isidro.

So there was a
murder there, too!

Pryce's real name was Bond.

Interpol agent investigating the
consortium's dirty little secrets.

But where's
Mr. Montgomery, Nellie?

You're not big or strong enough to have
carried Pryce's body up from the river.

Right here, Mrs. Fletcher.

Now, we've got a plane to catch.

Say, if you'll both
get over by the well,

there's room enough
in there for two more.

Police! Hold it right
there, Montgomery!

Well, you cut it a
bit thin, Sergeant.

Amen to that, Sarge.

Oh, well, Shamus Riley
called as you asked him to,

but talk about
luck of the Irish.

I had a flat tire on the road.

I talked to Laura
on the telephone.

Does it sound like Freddie's getting
things straightened out back there?

Oh, yes, he is, and better still, he
and Laura got married yesterday.

Speaking of which...

Hello, Dennis. You
two are off, are you?

We've the drive to Newport,

and the priest will be
waiting for us at 5:00.

Oh, that's great. Listen, Kate and
I have been thinking long and hard

about a wedding
present for the two of you.

And... Well, why don't
you tell them, Kate.

It's no secret that you've been
looking at our rental cottage.

And, well, it's not something
we'd like to let out of the family.

Well, what she's
trying to say is,

we know you turned Early
down and we're proud of you.

The cottage is
yours if you want it.

Do we want it!

Oh, wait a minute! I'm thinking of
running for Early's empty council seat,

so I'm gonna need
a manager here.

And that job's yours,
too. I mean, if you want it.

Ah, Tom. Do you
even have to ask?

That's me boy!

Come on, darling, let's
have a jar for the road.

Can't blame me for
being jealous, Jessica.

It's a very pretty little place.

Mmm-hmm.

A wee thatched cottage with
geraniums under every window.

Just the place to
let the years slip by.

Ah, Kate.