Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 11, Episode 5 - Dear Deadly - full transcript

You're dead, Loretta.

John, I completely understand.

It was unforgivable of me to
overrule you in front of your own staff.

Harry, where you
did it is not the point.

What this is about is that as
long as I'm your managing editor,

I will not have you
second guessing me

about what stories go where.

John, I'm sorry you're
taking it this way.

Okay. Fine.

Looks as if I'll have plenty of
time to work on my memoirs.

Effective immediately.



Frankly, Harry, none of this
comes as a huge surprise.

Most of us expected
something like this

from the day we learned
that you had bought the paper.

Oh, please, a stop sign
reads more exciting than that.

Darling. Darling, I know who
she came to the opening with.

Oh, how did it go?

Lions 35, Christians nothing.

Anyway, what my
readers want to know is,

who she came home with.

You little devil.

Oh, well, we'll... We'll
talk about that later. Okay.

Bye.

Oh, this is for you, Miss Kemp.

Listen, I was wondering
if maybe we could...



This is for Max Charles.

Sorry.

Jessica.

Oh.

Well, we won't need to
find you a vacant office.

This one's available, as of now.

John, what happened?

What happened is 30
days under Harry Mordecai.

The Middle East
is about to blow up.

Congress is at war with itself,
San Francisco has a budget crisis,

and our esteemed publisher
buries it all on page four,

so he can devote the first three
to "Nude Body On Embarcadero."

Well, they're going to
have to do it without me.

It's probably just as well.

I'm just about as much
of a relic as... As this is.

Well, I better get
myself prepared.

I'm supposed to
meet Mr. Mordecai.

Johnny!

Mrs. Fletcher.

Mrs. Fletcher, I'm
delighted finally to meet you.

Well, how do you
do, Mr. Mordecai?

I suppose Johnny here
has been telling you

all sorts of horror
stories about me.

Well, I... They're all true.

No, seriously, Mrs. Fletcher,

I trust that your edit
of our serialization

of your novel will
be a piece of cake.

I hope so.

So do I, Mrs. Fletcher.

Johnny, I've come
to apologize, mate.

I was way out of line.

I stand here in abject
humility, and I promise you

I will never try to teach you
how to do your job again.

Thanks.

But, no, I've made up my mind.

All right. But stay for a
month till I find a replacement.

And by way of an inducement,

I will then give you the boot,

thus enabling you to compel me

to buy out the remaining
two years of your contract.

Okay. One month.

Good man.

Mrs. Fletcher, look, I'm afraid

I'm going to have to postpone
our meeting till tomorrow.

But just to get you started...
For promotional purposes,

I've had to make one
or two slight changes.

Now, that aging astronaut,
your murder victim...

Charles Graham.

Is now a beautiful, vibrant,
driven young woman

on her way up in
the space industry.

Right? Just a minor tweak, just
to add a little bit more heat to it.

Minor? Mr. Mordecai, I...

Oh, by the way, she
dies in the Jacuzzi,

and I'll fill you in on the
rest of the details later. Ciao.

You still want
that vacant office?

I don't believe it.

For once in my life, I get
nominated for the Gramercy Award,

I mean, practically the next
best thing to the Pulitzer,

and you didn't vote for me?

I forgot.

Hey, you gotta give me credit
for honesty. I could have lied.

Besides, you're
gonna win anyway.

Ah, from your lips.

Alexis, even if you don't,

Harry Mordecai's
gotta recognize it

as one of the best pieces
of writing he's ever seen.

Well, there's one
tiny flaw in your logic.

You're assuming
the man can read.

Even if he can't, he can see.

So, can we do dinner
tomorrow night?

Max, I told you, forget it.

I'll call you next week.

Inside Wall Street.

Max, hello. I got another
stock tip for your column.

Come on, Sidney.

I can only plug a stock in
my column so many times

before I get the SEC on my neck.

Besides, our new
publisher's laid down the law.

Shall I tell him about
our last stock tip?

Okay, okay.

You gotta do it, Max.

I hear you. It'll be in
tomorrow's column.

Good.

Hi. Hi.

Well, I guess this is why
they call it "Letters To Loretta."

Uh-huh.

You really read all
these, Miss Lee?

Every one of them, Troy.

The trick is I only
read every fourth word.

Oh. Not every third or fifth?

Oh, no, no.

For some reason, if you do
that, then they don't make sense.

Right.

What is that, hate mail?

Oh, yeah, yeah. I
get a lot of them.

It's a fax from some
harmless crank.

You know, it goes
with the territory.

Man, they didn't teach us
about that in journalism school.

Oh, I got that May 10th edition
of the Union that you asked for.

Thank you, Troy.

Bye-bye. Bye.

Loretta Lee.

Look, I'm sorry to bother
you with this, Miss Lee,

but I've got this
lady down here.

She says her name is Nell,

and she insists
you're expecting her.

Oh, yeah. Will you send
her right up, Charlie?

Yes, ma'am, if you say so.

Why don't you take the elevator?

Thanks for voting for me, Emma.

I don't mean to come
on like a politician, but I...

Hey, if I had a Gramercy
Award nomination,

I'd be grabbing people
by the lapels, too.

Speaking of your
subject matter...

Nell?

Hello.

Where's Miss Lee's office?

Uh, down the hall
and to your right.

I know her.

What... What? Your
series? You ran her picture.

Yeah, she was one of my
major sources. Very eccentric.

But it's the truth.

I couldn't keep it to
myself any longer.

Look, Miss Carson... Nell, here.

It isn't that I don't
appreciate you calling me

or that I don't believe you,

it's just that I
need some proof.

You know, something tangible.

Now, you're sure it wasn't there

when the hospital gave you back
Mr. Moore's things after he died?

Positively.

Ah!

Poor Freddie.

We, all of us, loved him.

What about where he lived?

It was gone.

I went all over his regular
digs down on Market Street

and his weekend place.

His what?

Oh, he had this big packing
crate down by the Presidio.

Right on the bay.
Wonderful view.

Well, all right. I want
you to keep on looking,

and you call me the minute
that you find anything.

I saw it, Miss
Lee. I really did.

I heard about this
fax from this T.D.

Passion keeping pace with
technology, or something like that.

I'm not sure, but I seem to recall
that I advised his wife to leave him

because he was abusive.

Apparently she did.

Well, I think we should
call the police on this one.

Oh, John, it's no
different than the others.

He'll calm down in a few days.

Okay. But if you
hear from him again...

Are you serious about quitting?

Deadly.

But as much as it
pains me to admit it,

the new Union will survive
perfectly well without me.

Maybe the new Union will, but
you were the heart of the old one.

Well, I sent in my
ballot last week.

And, yes, you got my vote.

Oh, thanks, Loretta.

Listen, I know I've been
a noodge, but I need this,

what with the new
management and all.

Well, the paper
needs it, Alexis.

Especially with John leaving,
and his job up for grabs.

Oh, I don't think Mr. Mordecai
would really consider me.

Oh, by the way,
that bag lady, Nell...

In case you're going
to use her for anything,

I have to warn you,
she's not terribly reliable.

I can believe that.

Loretta, will you excuse us?

Alexis, you and I need to talk
about your new feature piece.

I want to get my
nickel's worth in

before our esteemed
publisher mucks it up.

You better hurry.

Alexis, darling, I want to
talk to you about your project.

I've got a few ideas that I'd like to
run by you, just to clue you in a bit.

Well...

You wanted to talk to me
about something, Loretta?

Yeah, Max, I did.

Now, wait just a minute. Who
in the hell gave you the right

to tell me how to run my life?

Max, I'm trying to
tell you how to save it.

I've been tracking your game.

Your recommendation sends
the price of the stock up 30%, 40%.

Then you sell it short, and then
you write a column saying that

there must be something terribly
wrong with the company's products.

Those products were lousy.

The price plummets, and you clean up
through those dummy trading accounts.

Okay.

Look, I can't pay you
anything just yet, but...

Max, I don't want money.

I want you to stop before
you end up in prison.

And that possibility doesn't
bother me half as much

as the effect that it will have
on John and on the paper.

Loretta, I could use some
advice on ordering in lunch.

Tell me, is this place any good?

Turkey sandwich, nine bucks?

No way.

You really want the best
spot for lunch? Come on.

Was I right?

Absolutely. It's delicious.

Actually, I have
an ulterior motive.

John?

I guess you know how badly he's
been trying to finish his autobiography.

He's been going on for years
about when he was going to do it,

lamenting that he
never had enough time.

Well, I doubt that that
will apply anymore.

I think someone over
here wants to talk to you.

Oh. It's all right, Nell.

Mrs. Fletcher is a friend.

I've been looking all
morning. Everywhere.

And?

Thanks for the lunch, Loretta,

but I've gotta come
up with 14 cliffhangers.

I'll talk to you later.

Come on, don't be frightened.

Nell, tell me, tell me.

I still didn't find it.

Oh, God.

Beer, please.

Miss Hill, Emma. Do
you mind if I join you?

Troy, old lad, nice
to see you here, boy.

Alexis, I just wanted
to run this past you.

Staff party, here, Saturday
night, you're the guest of honor.

Oh.

Mr. Mordecai, that is so
sweet. But suppose I lose?

Darling, judging from the competition,
there's no chance of that happening.

Uh. Excuse me, won't you?

Confidentially, Alexis, this may
make a considerable change

to your position at the Union.

Oh.

Hi.

My darling Loretta Lee.
What can I do for you?

Ah. I know, I know.

It's about this John
Galloway business, isn't it?

You bet your
bum, it is, darling.

Well, I was going to
let you into the loop.

I know that you and
John are very close.

Oh, you don't
know the half of it.

But this isn't
about John and me,

this is about John and
the San Francisco Union.

And about journalistic
integrity and all that.

Yes, I've heard it a
thousand times before.

But the real truth
of the matter is,

John is unwilling to come
into the 20th century...

Okay! Let me put it another way,

but I hope it's not
too opaque for you.

John goes, and I take a hike.

Well, I did think it
might come down to this.

Well, I'm pleased that
we understand each other.

I don't think we do understand
each other yet, Miss Lee.

Now, here's a little
thought for you to ponder on.

Given the state
of your fan mail,

do you really think it's smart
of you to make another enemy?

I'm not bluffing.

That's 35 cents, please.
Thank you. Next, sir?

I'll see you all tomorrow.

Loretta, I'm going your
way. Can I drop you?

No, thanks. I'll just catch
the cable car right out there.

All right.

There. There he goes!

Watch out! Out of the way!
Watch out! Hey, you, stop!

Oh, don't make such a fuss.

The bullet just grazed my
arm. My coat took the worst of it.

Miss Lee, you're
going to have...

Speak up, please.

I said... Excuse me.

Loretta, the sergeant
found your hearing aid.

I'm afraid it
broke when it fell.

You're going to the hospital
for observation, ma'am.

That's all right. I'll catch
up with you there later.

Mrs. Fletcher, this guy, the
alleged assailant in the raincoat.

Did you ever see him
before? Maybe up at the paper?

Lieutenant, I only saw
the person from the rear.

I mean, with that baseball cap,

I couldn't even swear
that it was a man.

John, what about all those
threats that Loretta received?

Well, we'll go through her mail.

If I had a buck for
every threat to a mayor,

a celebrity, or a
columnist we ran down...

Sorry about that.

Cat my wife got to
keep her company,

'cause I'm gone for long shifts.

Turns out I'm
allergic to cat hair.

Guess where my
wife got the idea?

Loretta?

She read it in
Miss Lee's column.

Somebody wrote
complaining they were lonely.

Unbelievable. Right there
in the lobby, for God's sake.

She's alive, isn't she?

I sure am, Max.

Are you okay?

Say again?

Are you all right?

Oh, 100%, thank you.

Excuse me.

More and more crazies out there.
Could have been any one of us.

Maybe you shouldn't
be alone tonight.

And maybe the nut cases are
taking shots at the wrong columnists.

It's me. I'm at
the usual number.

Please call me as
soon as you can.

To continue messages, press...

Miss Lee? I heard
about last night.

What happened
to you? I'm scared.

Nell, you're worrying too much.

I'm not even sure that
the shooter was after me.

Now, have you...
Have you had any luck?

No, I don't think this
was such a good idea.

Listen to me, Nell.

It was wonderful of you
to come to me with this.

And it is, it's very important.

Now, I want you to promise
me that you're gonna keep trying.

Please. Okay?

Yeah.

I got one more place I can look.

Oh.

Oh, my God.

I told you not to leave the
hospital without calling me.

Well, they released me at 5:00
a.m. I didn't want to wake you up.

Oh, God, if I don't get
another hearing aid,

I'm gonna go out of my mind.

I took yours over
to be repaired.

They promised it
would be ready today.

I'll see that you get it.

Thank you.

Now, look... Look.

Police found a nine-millimeter
bullet in the lobby,

and they're trying to track this
threatening fax from this T.D. person,

but in the meantime,
he or she is still out there.

Now, I want you someplace
where you're out of danger.

This definitely is not it.
Neither is your apartment.

Well, what? You want
me to leave the country?

The VIP hospitality suite the
paper keeps at The Powell Hotel.

That's where I'm putting you.

VIP?

Come on. If I had
known that was all it took,

I would have paid somebody
to shoot me a long time ago.

I'll have all of your calls
forwarded, Loretta. Now, come on.

Mr. Kelly, I assure you, you'll
have an absolutely free hand.

Come in. MR. KELLY: I
want total control of the paper.

Yeah? Harry, are you sure?

Oh, absolutely, Edward.
Absolutely, mate.

All right, then. Well,
listen, Mr. Kelly,

I'm gonna have to
have an answer from you

by Monday afternoon
at the latest, okay?

Yeah, okay. All right,
then. Goodbye, Mr. Kelly.

Goodbye, Harry. Bye.

Now, about your book...

Mr. Mordecai, while I
thoroughly appreciate

all the thought that you have put
into these memos and suggestions

regarding me changing the
"take," as you call it, on my novel,

the fact remains that the previous
management bought my book.

Mrs. Fletcher, are
you telling me that

you're refusing to make the
changes that I've requested?

Yes. Yes, I am.

They wanted to serialize
the book that I wrote.

Now, if you don't want to
do that, that is your problem.

Well, you got a damned nerve.

Feisty little thing, aren't you?

Well, I respect that in a woman.

All right, Mrs. Fletcher,
all right. Just this once.

We'll keep the
book as you wrote it.

And I will give you the chapter
synopsis first thing tomorrow.

Splendid. Splendid.

Let me find out as
soon as you can. Okay.

Mrs. Fletcher. Yes?

I've been looking for you. Oh.

Does this look like the coat worn
by the person you saw running away?

Well, the color is similar.

We found it in a dumpster
a block from here.

We're gonna run tests for
powder burns and prints.

What I'm thinking is,
the guy was running away

and ditched it, so he
wouldn't be spotted.

Are you quite sure it was a man?

Well, the coat
buttons left over right,

and the label is
Murray's for Men.

And the fax from T.D.?

It was sent from a copy
shop in Haight-Ashbury.

And there are 227 T.D.s in
the San Francisco phone book.

But we're working on it.

I'll get right on
it, Mr. Mordecai.

Right. And just a cautionary
thought. Nothing intellectual.

I mean, this is a story
about our Loretta.

Terrorized, driven into hiding,

while a craven, faceless monster
stalks the night. That kind of thing.

While the police
stand helplessly by.

Civic leaders call for action,

and the San Francisco
Union becomes the story

because Loretta is the Union.

Alexis, my dear,
up until this moment,

I didn't think there was a soul in this
bloody mausoleum who knew my song.

Harry, I think you'll find I
can play almost any tune.

Ah. Lieutenant!

Now, look, I know the police
department is doing all they can, but...

Look, sir, I know what
kind of clout you've got.

One phone call, I'm collecting
tolls on the Golden Gate Bridge.

I'm doing the best I can.

Relax, Lieutenant, relax. All I was
gonna say to you was, take your time.

Take your time,
but get it right.

Loretta Lee is a very
important part of our little family.

Thanks. Thanks
for understanding.

Pardon me.

Do you own a cat?

No.

Yeah. Mordecai here.

What can I do for you, sir?

I got your front page headline.

"Loretta's Stalker
Baffles Cops."

Emma, I go to lunch at 12:30.

What do you say?

I'd say you've got
about 15 minutes.

Thanks, Troy, I've already
eaten. But I'll take a rain check.

Yeah, absolutely. Mmm-hmm.
Hang on. Got anything for me?

Oh, yeah. Here you go.

Thanks. Troy.

Loretta's hearing aid is
ready at this repair shop.

Would you pick it up and
deliver it to her at her hotel?

Oh, sure thing, Mr. Galloway.

Hey, how're you doing
tonight? What can I...

Jessica, I'm sorry to be late.

How's Loretta doing?

Last time I talked
to her, she was fine.

I took her some lunch,
I took her, her mail.

Lieutenant Evans said that he hadn't
had much luck identifying the gunman.

Alexis.

Hi.

How's your Loretta story going?

Done. I just finished plugging
in my interview with her.

His Lordship's
going to adore it.

Did she ever get
her hearing aid?

I guess so. She was fine.

Listen, I've gotta run this
past Mr. Mordecai, so...

Good luck. And special good
luck with the Gramercy Awards.

Thank you.

John Galloway.

You have?

Yeah. From fingerprints we found on
a half-pint bottle in the raincoat pocket,

we traced him to a
trailer park in Sausalito.

Anyway, I thought
you'd like to know.

They've located
and arrested T.D.

He has a record, they
found glue and scissors,

he's confessed to
shooting at Loretta.

Thank goodness.

I tried to notify Miss
Lee, but her line's busy.

Thanks, Lieutenant. We're
just around the corner.

We'll go and tell her
she's a free woman.

Yeah, I like this very much,
and so will Loretta's fans.

It's got heat, it's got
passion, it's got angst.

Yeah, well, it may need
a fresh angle, Harry.

They just caught the shooter.

They didn't.

"Dewey Defeats Truman"
strikes again, eh, Harry?

Well, that's the
newspaper business.

Loretta? Loretta?

Police must've gotten through to her
and told her that the coast was clear.

John!

Oh.

Appears to have been a blow to
the head with that water pitcher.

Mr. Galloway, from her wallet,

Loretta's real name
was Claire Hogan?

Yeah, right.

The newspaper owned the fictitious
name and title, "Letters To Loretta Lee."

Around 25 years back, the
first Loretta left to start a family.

What about next of kin?

None. Her mother
died 10 years ago.

Loretta... Claire never married.

What about that diamond
engagement ring she was wearing?

I believe it was her mother's.

You figure it was
this T.D. fellow?

Afraid not. T.D. has a job from
9:00 till 6:00 when we picked him up.

Mmm. People can leave
work, and then return.

T.D.'s a security guard for
a local trucking company.

He works alongside another guy,

and they weren't out of each
other's sight for more than 10 minutes.

Mr. Galloway, who besides you at the
paper knew she was sequestered here?

Half the newsroom. The idea
wasn't to protect her from us.

Maybe it should have been.

Look, with no sign of forced entry or
robbery, and using that water pitcher,

it feels like a spur
of the moment thing.

You know, an argument.

Does she have
enemies at the paper?

None that I know of.

This package that she got.

Garden variety clasp envelope with
her name on it in this small plastic bag,

but no sign of what came in it.

Her hearing aid.

I dropped it off to be repaired
first thing this morning.

Knob Hill Hearing Center.

I had a kid from the
mail room pick it up

and deliver it to her
hotel at around lunch time.

Kid got a name?

Lieutenant, you better
take a look at this.

Mr. Galloway, I wonder if
you can come over here.

Besides living long enough
to try to phone for help,

Miss Lee apparently used her
ring to carve her killer's name

on the underside of the glass.

I guess while still
lying on the floor.

Me?

Come on, Mr. Galloway,
according to the coroner,

she died between 4:00
and 6:00 p.m. yesterday,

and you cannot account for your
whereabouts during that period.

Lieutenant, I've told you...

You did. But home
alone isn't gonna cut it.

John, are you all right?

I'm bloody but unbowed.

Lieutenant, you wanted
me to sign my statement?

Yeah.

Look, Mrs. Fletcher, I know
how you feel about this man,

but we've been all over
everyone else's movements.

The people from the newspaper,
witnesses. Miss Lee's visitors.

She only had two
that we know of.

Troy Higgins, the mail room kid.

He delivered a hearing aid at...

At 12:30.

And Alexis Hill who
interviewed her and left by 2:30.

So, basically, what we're
looking at here, motive or not,

is a single suspect.

Turned over?

Lieutenant, may I have a look
at those photographs, please?

Sure. Thank you.

There. The ring. I didn't notice
it when we found the body.

Lieutenant, if the
ring was turned around

so that the diamond
was facing the palm,

I think it's next to
impossible that Loretta, dying,

would have been able
to scratch that message

on the underside
of the table, palm up.

Yeah, you'd almost
have to do it with your fist.

Which means the killer
probably removed the ring,

etched the message
in the glass...

And then put the ring
back on Loretta's finger,

turning it around the wrong way.

Well, I've gotta tell you,

that makes all the
sense in the world.

But the thing of
it is, it sort of fits.

A guy like Mr. Galloway here, who's
smart enough to run a major newspaper,

he just might be smart enough
to leave a message like that,

and put the ring back
in the wrong position

to fool someone as smart as you.

Anyway, I figure I've just got
enough to sell this to the DA.

Alexis, nice piece on
Loretta and the stalker.

The interview, the
follow-up on her death.

Thanks.

Well, you know, she was
everybody's conscience.

Yeah, that's the part
I'm not gonna miss.

Hey, come on, face it, she was
sweet, but she was a busybody.

I'm surprised that isn't what got
her killed. Truth is, maybe it did.

And maybe she couldn't
keep her nose out of

John Galloway's
business either, huh?

Uh-huh.

You know, Max,
you owe me, big time.

Yeah? What do you mean?

The part I left out of my
story. About your stock scam.

She told you?

Not to worry, darling.
It'll be our little secret.

And I'll expect you to
show your appreciation.

Starting today, when
you tell Harry Mordecai

you think I'd make a great
acting managing editor.

Bye, now.

It's tragic. In many ways, Loretta
was the franchise here at the Union.

I'd been planning to syndicate
her nationally, you know.

I didn't know that.

I sold her to over
400 newspapers.

She's going to be almost
impossible to replace.

Anyone with that delicacy of touch.
And then for John to go and do this...

Look, Harry, I don't
think that John killed her.

How about the police?

Well, in my opinion, the police
don't have much of a case.

Well, guess Mr. Mordecai's as
bummed out as the rest of us.

About the murder and everything.

You know, Troy, I don't know
why, but I just got the impression

that he was more upset about the

possibility that John
Galloway was innocent.

Well, that's weird.

Troy, when you delivered
Loretta's hearing aid,

did she act strangely?

Appear to be perturbed?

The police asked
me the same thing.

No. I mean, I didn't know her
very well, but she seemed okay.

Aren't you forgetting
Loretta's mail?

Oh, yes.

Well, I wonder who's gonna
answer all these letters now.

Well, I gotta go.

Max, I have to talk to you.

Look, I'll get
right to the point.

I know about your having used your
column to manipulate stock prices,

and I think that
Loretta knew, too,

and that she
confronted you with it.

Oh, God.

Listen, I didn't kill her.

Look, I believe you, and I'm
not here for recriminations, Max.

Listen, John Galloway may be
tried and convicted of a murder

that he didn't commit,
and I can't let that happen.

Now, I need the truth.

Yes, I lied to the police.

I went there to talk to her.

I was gonna tell her that I was
ready to turn myself into the SEC.

But when I got there,
she was already dead.

But how did you get in?

Well, I've got...

I have a key to the suite.

I've had it for months.

I sometimes

use it for a few
hours for, you know...

Anyway, I took one look,
and I got the hell out of there.

What time was that?

About 5:00.

And you didn't tell the police

because you were afraid that they
would suspect you of the murder.

Start digging into
why I was there.

Listen, Mrs. Fletcher, I
hope you can get John off.

I hope so, too.

Uh, pardon me, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, yes, Emma.

I thought you might like to
know. It was on the news just now.

John Galloway has been formally
charged with first degree murder.

We found the original manuscript

for what turned out to
be Loretta's final column

at the murder scene, and Mr. Galloway's
prints showed up all over it.

Which means he lied.

That he really was up there before
you and he discovered the body.

Which means he killed her.

Lieutenant, I doubt very much
that, that will stand up in court.

Funny. The prosecutor got
real excited when I laid it on him.

You know, I found this on
John's desk a few minutes ago.

If you hold it up to the light,

you'll be able to read the text
of one of Loretta Lee's columns.

Meaning?

Meaning that I
suspect you'll find

his fingerprints all over
the rest of them, too,

because they were all written by John
Galloway on his old manual typewriter.

You're kidding.

My resistance to change
has finally caught up with me.

You've been Loretta
Lee all along, haven't you?

For 25 years.

After the first Loretta left, I
covered for her for a few weeks

until Claire Hogan could
take over as the new Loretta.

Claire looked the part,
but she wasn't a writer,

so I just kept on doing it.

With Loretta screening the mail
and making public appearances.

The boss loved my work.
And so did I, or I'd have quit.

But I knew I'd be laughed out of
the business if anyone ever found out.

Every time I even
thought of going public,

it just seemed more
insurmountable.

So I've got you to
thank for the cat.

Oh, damn. Staff meeting.

They moved it up a half an hour.

The time...

John, what was the name of the
place that repaired Loretta's hearing aid?

Knob Hill Hearing Center. Why?

Well, I hope that they
can explain a great deal

about what happened
yesterday afternoon.

Lieutenant, may
I use your phone?

Oh, wow. Sorry, Mrs. Fletcher.

Quite all right, Troy. You're
just the person I was looking for.

Really? Well, I have
a lot of stuff to deliver.

Well, it can wait. But
what can't wait is the truth.

According to John, Loretta's
hearing aid was ready to be picked up

just after noon yesterday.

That's right. I went over and
got it and took it to Loretta.

But I'm told that you didn't come
back here to the office until after 4:00.

I had a lot of errands to run.

Troy, the woman at
Knob Hill Hearing Center

says that you didn't
sign for it until 3:30,

almost three hours after
you left the newspaper office.

Mrs. Fletcher, I don't
want to lose this job.

Now, I noticed that next
door to the hearing aid center,

there's a movie theater
showing an old film

that would probably
be of great interest

to an aspiring young newspaper
man. All the President's Men?

I've been hearing
about it for years.

I just thought I'd catch a few minutes
of it, and then the next thing I knew...

It was 3:30.

So I ran out of there, I grabbed Loretta's
hearing aid, and I took it to her.

Is this going to
help Mr. Galloway?

I think it will, Troy. We'll
know in a little while.

That phone, Nell, has the same
number that Loretta wrote down

alongside of Freddie
Moore's obituary.

Now, that was the number that you called
her from yesterday afternoon, collect,

to her hotel room at 3:35.

Well, that must have
been someone else.

You wanted to tell her
something, didn't you?

Something very important?

I'm scared, Mrs. Fletcher.

I don't want to
end up like Loretta.

I understand.

And I give you my word
that you will be protected.

Nell, I don't think you want your
friend Loretta to have died in vain,

or for Freddie Moore to be denied
the credit for his accomplishments.

Ah, Mrs. Fletcher,
have you got a moment?

Uh, look, Harry, if it's about my synopsis,
you'll have to wait till tomorrow.

Forget the synopsis.

How would you like to be part
of the information superhighway?

I'm not sure that I understand.

I've just sold the Union. At a
considerable profit, I may add,

and I'm now the proud
owner of a satellite TV network.

Now, I think The
Launch Pad Murders

would make a first-class
mini-series, starring that...

I'll get back to you, Harry.

Right. Yeah, that tall actor...

Oh, hi, Mrs. Fletcher.

Um, listen, if you'd like to go to the
award dinner, I've got an extra ticket.

Thanks, anyway, Alexis.

Okay. Well, better
be getting over there.

I just...

Well, I wish it were under
happier circumstances.

Wish me luck.

I read your series.
It's very good,

but I'm afraid you're going
to need a lot more than luck.

What do you mean?

I mean that you
murdered Loretta Lee.

Jessica, I can see why you
get the big bucks for your fiction,

but your facts
need a lot of work.

It's the facts that
tripped you up, Alexis.

You told me and the police

that you'd finished interviewing
Loretta in the hotel room by 2:30.

That's right, I did.

No, you couldn't have.

In the restaurant
yesterday evening,

John questioned you about how
your story on Loretta was going.

Alexis. Hi.

How's your Loretta story going?

Done. I just finished plugging
in my interview with her.

His Lordship's
going to adore it.

Did she ever get
her hearing aid?

I guess so. She was fine.

Well, the fact is that if you had
interviewed her when you said you did,

you'd have been very aware that
she didn't have her hearing aid,

because you'd have had to
shout to make yourself heard.

So I got the time wrong. That
doesn't make me a murderer.

Oh, but it does.

In order for you to have had a
normal conversation with her,

you had to have
been there after 3:30.

After Troy had
delivered her hearing aid.

And after a phone
call, Miss Hill.

From Loretta Lee to your
desk at 3:40 p.m. yesterday.

That's ridiculous.

She called me to amend something she'd
said in the interview. That's all it was.

No, Alexis.

She phoned you right after a
homeless woman named Nell notified her

from a pay phone in the
park that she had these.

The few remaining pages from
the late Freddie Moore's journals

about his life as a
homeless person.

The journals you stole from him
while he was in the hospital dying,

and then passed
them off as your own,

turning them into your
series on the homeless.

And then you probably destroyed
Mr. Moore's original manuscript.

That's a lie.

Freddie's style in
these pages is identical

to the style in which
your series was written.

I pleaded with her,

but she insisted I
admit everything,

that her concern was
John Galloway's reputation,

and she wasn't
going to let me spoil it.

She threatened to tell everyone.

I panicked.

And then you decided
to frame John Galloway

by scratching that
message into the tabletop.

Do you have any idea what
it's like to wake up every morning

wondering if this'll be the day they
finally realize you have no talent?

They were good,
Freddie's diaries.

They were beautiful.

The stuff real
journalism is made of.

Murrow, Kuralt, Pyle.

Writing I'd never be capable
of in a thousand years.

And what good was that going to
do for a John Doe in potter's field?

The sale of the
newspaper fell through,

and Harry Mordecai's allowing a few
of us to buy up the San Francisco Union,

with lots of time to pay for it.

Oh, John, what an
exciting challenge.

I have so much to
thank you for, Jessica.

Mmm-mmm. Loretta was
your guardian angel, not me.

She didn't want anyone
to sully your character.

Not Max, not Alexis.

What about a new Loretta?

Well, since I'm
now editor-in-chief,

I think it's about
time I gave that up.

Maybe what we need is a
new team, like Loretta and me.

They should be able to
handle it, don't you think?

Now, that just might be the
inspiration of your lifetime.