Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 11, Episode 7 - Fatal Paradise - full transcript

Phil, darling,

I wish there was a
nicer way to tell you this,

but it's over.

I guess it has
been for a long time.

There isn't much
more that I can say,

except by the
time you hear this,

Graham and I will be long gone.

Anyway, Phil, I hope someday
you'll find it in your heart to...

Sure, I will.

Hello. Hello. Murray?

Yes. It's Phil Sparling.



I need a bird dog
who's not real smart,

won't ask a lot of questions.
You know what I mean?

I understand.

Jessica, it's Melanie Venable.

Oh, hello, Melanie. Jessica,
I'm terribly sorry to be a bother,

but I just have to talk
to you about Hilton.

Melanie, I... Jessica,
please, tell me the truth, now.

Do you think the boy
has any talent at all?

Look, I can't
answer that question

because I haven't had a
chance to read his manuscript yet.

Now, if you'll excuse me... If only he
would pursue sensible goals, Jessica.

I mean, he is such a
trial. Um, Mrs. Venable...

I had hoped that our
coming out here would...

Mrs. Venable, Mrs. Fletcher
and I have an engagement.



Oh, of course.

Well, thank you, Jessica.
I know you'll be honest.

Wow.

Jessica, if you ever thought

that running a hotel, even
in paradise, would be fun...

Between dealing with the guests,
redecorating, and Maurice's gambling,

I can't tell you how good
Cabot Cove looks to me now.

Maurice? I thought he'd stopped.

I did, too. Seems to be worse than
ever. However, that is my problem.

Oh, dear. I'll just be a couple
of minutes, all right, Lauren?

Oh, perfect. I've got a couple
of things to do downstairs.

Jeff. Mother.

Sorry, the sink drain
is clogged in 214.

Um, is your father around?

Not that I've noticed.

Ooh, must be wonderful to see
everything in such vivid black and white.

Well, one thing's for sure,

I didn't inherit any talent for facing
the truth from your side of the family.

Martinique. SPARLING:
What do you mean, Martinique?

You know, down
in the West Indies.

Are you sure this time?

Hey, look, Mr. Sparling,

the yacht is moored off-shore. I
saw it on my way in from the airport.

Yeah?

Uh, it's maintenance,
Mr. Garrett.

Come on, Garrett, you told me they're
everywhere from Yucatán to Belize.

And then last week you were
dead sure that they were in Miami.

And then what? Barbados?

Uh, I understand
the sink's clogged?

That should be the
worst of my problems.

Look, pal, in exactly 45 minutes,
there's a plane that goes to Chicago.

No, no, no, go for it.

But I want to hear from you the
second that you've spotted my wife.

And no later than
tomorrow. You got it?

Right.

Yes?

Martinique.

Where on the island?

The Hotel Deux Perroquets.

Got it.

Okay, I will see your raise,

and I will double it.

You have frightened me
away, monsieur Farrow.

I will call you, Graham.
Will you accept this?

It's your decision, Maurice.

Four jacks.

I'm afraid that my straight
flush beats your four jacks.

Maurice, you could have lost to
someone who wasn't so fond of you.

We better get back. The
ladies will be waiting. Gentlemen.

Pardon. Captain.

He passed through airport
customs a short while ago.

Garrett. Passport, U.S.

As you can see, Interpol lists him
as a private investigator from Chicago.

Lauren, you know you
don't have to like me.

It's just that since, you know, Graham
and your husband seem to be hitting it off,

it might make things a lot
easier if we tried to get along.

You know, at least just for the few
weeks that we're gonna be down here.

Am I right, Jessica?

I'd really rather you
left me out of this.

You're right, Dorie.

Here we go.

Oh, and one other thing.

I think I've got a pretty good idea of
where you were coming from just now.

I mean, besides New England.

I figure, what it is, is I
kind of, like, threaten you.

I mean, 'cause I actually left my husband
instead of, you know, thinking about it.

You know I'm on the
money, don't you, Jessica?

Mrs. Sparling...
It's all right, Jessica.

You're mistaken
about Maurice and me.

Ladies, hi. Sorry we're late.

Maurice, what is it?

The cards.

I have rotten luck.

The hotel,

I lost half of it.

Maurice, no.

What he means is that
we're not just friends anymore.

We're partners.

Madame, hotel
registration is over here.

Ah, good evening.
May I help you?

Uh, yes, my name is Norma
Willens. I have a reservation.

Of course. Miss Willens.

Thank you. Mmm-hmm.

Is this our mail, Hilton?

Uh, yes, Mother.

Everything okay, Jessica?

Oh, it was absolutely
delicious, Jeff.

Be sure to give the
chef my compliments.

Hey, what does a guy have to do around
here to get a well-done cheeseburger?

Put this back on the fire
till it stops moving, will you?

Charlie? Charlie Garrett?

Jessica!

What in the world
are you doing here?

You writing another book?

Not this time. This is purely R
and R. I didn't even bring my laptop.

And you? What about you?

Monsieur Garrett, I
must speak with you.

Madame Fletcher, pardon.

Captain St. Denis.

Monsieur Garrett, just exactly
what brings you to Martinique?

Scuba diving.

Room 208, Charlie.

Gotcha.

This way, please.

Can you believe it? My dad
lost half interest in the hotel.

God, my mom's gotta be ready
to kill him, if I don't do it first.

Jeff, yelling at your father, it
isn't going to change anything.

Yeah, well it'll make
me feel a lot better.

Listen, after you get
off, can we have a beer?

I've got to finish an assignment
and get it off in tomorrow's mail.

Colette, it's been
almost a month.

I told you... Oh, right.

We'll be an item again
when I decide that being

2,000 miles from
nowhere is wonderful.

Jeff!

Just because you're
angry with your parents...

it isn't necessary to reject
everything they've worked so hard for.

Charlie, if I had to guess,

I'd say about the closest
you ever came to scuba diving

would be a McFish sandwich.

I don't think I fooled
that cop, either.

Sit down. Anyway,

Phil Sparling hired
me to find his wife,

who was kidnapped
by this guy Farrow.

Dorie Sparling?

Wait a minute, you've seen her?

Well, yes.

I certainly didn't get the impression
that she was brought here against her will.

Really? Well, by
looking at her picture,

she doesn't strike me as the
type that would run around.

I mean, maybe she was
putting on an act for your benefit.

Well, I suppose it's possible.

Or did you notice whether or
not she was under sedation?

Or... Or did you see a
guard, or anything like that?

Well, no, not really. I mean, there
was a young man on the boat, but...

Well, then, that's it.

Charlie, what does Mr. Sparling
expect of you if you find her?

Well, he wants me to check
out how tight the security is,

bring her back to
Chicago myself.

If not, I mean, he doesn't want me to
pull any Crimson Pirate stuff or anything.

I don't suppose you'd
want to alert the police?

Right. Uh, that's exactly
what Sparling figured.

Wait a minute.

You don't suppose that Mrs. Sparling
did one of those mental flip-flops, do you?

You know, like that, um,
that newspaper heiress,

the one who got brainwashed into
robbing banks by the guys who grabbed her?

Or, Charlie,

I mean, is it possible
that there's some kind of

miscommunication
between you and your client?

Oh, no, no. He was
very clear about that.

I mean, it occurred to me that he
may have an agenda of his own.

You and I both know that
I've bought into that before.

Anyway, I'll keep
you posted, okay?

Mr. Farrow, I have not seen
Mr. or Mrs. DeLagre all morning.

You know, it's really a shame the way
they've allowed this place to deteriorate.

They work very hard.

Colette, you needn't
make excuses for us.

Lauren... The door is
over there, Mr. Farrow.

Look, you made your feelings
abundantly clear last night.

But, frankly, I think you
ought to feel fortunate.

Now there are two of us to
worry about Maurice's problems.

There's nothing wrong
with my husband.

Okay. But understand that I
intend on protecting my investment.

I'm having some papers drawn
up to formalize our arrangement.

His investment.

Hello, Hotel Deux
Perroquets. May I help you?

Mrs. DeLagre, I am
sorry to bother you,

but it's the lady in 112, and she's
pretty upset. She wants to speak to you.

I can't deal with it now.

Thank you.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Can't you watch
where you're going?

Look, lady, it wasn't
as if I did it on purpose.

Well...

Mrs. Sparling?

Have we met?

I've seen your pictures.

In the Chicago society pages.

No kidding.

Yeah, that's where I'm from.

Well, what a small world.

Yeah, really.

Um, look, would you
like to, uh, I mean,

maybe you got time to
have something cool to drink?

Oh, um, well,

sure.

Hey, do you see all these
palm trees and birds and stuff?

We're a hell of a long way
from Chicago, aren't we?

Dorie Sparling's right.

I'm not all that far
away from Cabot Cove

and my look-the-other-way upbringing.
Somehow, it worked for my mother.

Well, don't be too sure. I
mean, your mother paid the price

with her chronic
back pain, remember?

And here I am, pretending that Maurice
is still the same man you introduced me to.

The dashing UN attaché
who swept me off my feet.

Mom. Jessica.

Oh, hi, Jeff. I just
finished checking the roof.

Another storm, we won't have enough buckets
on the island to catch all the leaks.

Dear.

Jessica, bonjour. Bonjour.

Jeffrey. Darling.

You know, what happened yesterday
may turn out to be a blessing in disguise.

I have just spoke
with Graham Farrow,

and he has agreed to put
up the money for a new roof,

as well as other repairs
that has to be made.

Oh, that's terrific. Maybe
if you lose more to him,

build us a whole new hotel.

Jeff, don't talk to
your father like that.

Oh, it's very liberating, Mother.
You ought to try it sometime.

You're staring again.

Right. I'm sorry.

You were about to tell me
what high school you went to.

Hillside Park.

I can't believe this.

You, too?

The White Sox, onion rings,
the Blue Note, it's incredible.

Couple of more, will you? So tell
me, what brings you down here to the,

what do you call it,
the Windward Islands?

I mean, was it your
idea, or... What?

Buster, I don't know
who the hell you are,

but the lady is off-limits.

Yeah.

Mr. Garrett, have a
nice day in Martinique.

I am sorry to cut in, Mrs. Donohue.
I think I have cleared your line.

It's about time.

Oh, this decrepit equipment.
I can't wait to replace it.

Here's the rest of
your fax, Mrs. Fletcher.

Thank you very much,
Colette. Mmm-hmm.

Excuse me, I need some stamps.

Oh, yes. Here you go.

Oh.

I told Miss Willens
about the books you write.

She says she's read some of
them. She's a school teacher.

Really? So was I.
What do you teach?

Um, high school.

So much for trying to make nice.

Well, I'm more annoyed by
these notes from my editor,

which I fully intend to
ignore until I get home.

Mr. Venable, the reason I have not
responded to any of your telephone messages

is I am not interested.
Is that clear?

Of course, Miss Willens.
Perhaps later, then?

Excuse me.

Hilton Augustus Venable,
have you absolutely no shame?

Oh, Hilton, I've been
looking all over for you.

I enjoyed reading
your story. You did?

Yes, I did. I took the liberty
of making a few notes for you,

and I gave you the names
of some literary magazines.

I think that if you take a
slightly different tack on it,

you might be able to sell
it to one of the magazines.

Jessica, I can't tell you how much...
Mother, Jessica likes my writing.

Well, that's lovely.

Hilton, I must have a
word with you. Yes, Mother.

Perfectly lovely.

What is it, Mother?

Well, I mean, we have
the family name to consider.

Oh, God, Mother, the family name hasn't
meant squat since before the Civil War.

Hilton, do not argue!

Now, until our lawyer has had a chance
to look into this Miss Willens' background,

you are not to speak to that
woman, do you understand?

Yes, Mother. Good.

Well, before the
French came in here,

the Caribs called it Madinina,
which is The Island of Flowers.

You know, Jessica,
you were wrong.

Dorie Sparling is a prisoner,
and she's not happy about it.

All right. But in that case, why
doesn't she just go to the police?

Well, you met Wendell,
the guy with all the pecs?

Yes. I rest my case.

Hey, did I tell you Mrs. Sparling and
I grew up in the same neighborhood?

No, you didn't mention that.

Yeah. It's real lousy,
her being in this situation.

Charlie, I hope you
won't take offense at this,

but are you sure you're not
allowing your feeling for Mrs. Sparling

to color your judgment?

My feelings? Where in the
world did you get that idea?

Graham, I thought this was
supposed to be a celebration.

Hey, it's not like
I'm telling you

to give up shopping
for the rest of your life.

Um, I'll see you in a minute.

Just take it from me, okay?

Oh, Mrs. Sparling.
Mrs. Sparling, hi there.

Oh, hi, Mr. Garrett.

Uh, you must be Graham
Farrow, right? Pleased to meet you.

Mr. Garrett, I told
you about this before.

If you were a wise
man, you would go away.

Hey, look, pal, why don't
you stay out of my life, huh?

Graham, was that really necessary?
The man was just trying to be friendly.

Yeah? Then I do think
that was necessary.

Oh, Charlie. Good heavens.

You see what I mean?

Yeah? Charlie, it's
me. Are you okay?

Oh yeah. Yeah, yeah, I'm
fine. You don't sound so good.

Listen, Graham knows who
you are and why you're here.

Yeah, I was gonna
tell you about that.

It's okay. Phil hired you to bring back
all the money that Graham stole, right?

Money? Uh, yeah, right.

Oh, Charlie, I've
goofed up, big time.

Listen, I have got to
get away from Graham.

I mean, I... I don't want to come
across as a terrible person or anything,

but the truth is, I don't want
to go back to my husband.

Hey, Dorie, I understand. To
hell with him and this gig, too.

What's important is
getting you out of there.

Listen, I think I know
what you're thinking,

and I don't want to
lead you on or anything,

but I just don't know if
it could work out with us.

I mean, it might
and it might not.

Anyway, I think I can lay
my hands on the money.

Forget the money. I don't
want you taking any chances.

Now, what I've got to know is exactly
where your playmates are right now.

Jessica. I need your help.

Dorie Sparling?

That is one frightened lady.

What do you want
me to do, Charlie?

Psst, Wendell.

I was kind of hoping you'd
give me an excuse to do that.

Dorie, it's me, Charlie.

Charlie, Charlie, thank God.

Okay, come on, we got to get
moving. What about Graham?

Don't worry, he's
being taken care of.

Now, I want to be absolutely
sure that I've got this right.

So, when you're steering into
the wind, you're jibing, right? And...

No, that's called tacking.

Oh, oh, yes, yes.

And then, if you were...

Mrs. Fletcher, you're really
going to have to excuse me.

I need to get back to the boat.

Oh, dear, I've only got a couple
of more questions to ask you.

Oh, I am so glad I ran into you.

You see, it appears that I have
written two complete chapters

using all of the wrong
information. Now, if you could...

Perhaps we can
discuss it another time.

Oh, yes, yes, that
would be lovely.

I mean, tomorrow
afternoon would be perfect.

Say, 3:00? Uh, no.
No, not 3:00. Say 4:30.

I mean, that would be perfect for
me, if that didn't inconvenience you.

Mrs. Fletcher, I was under the impression
that you weren't doing any writing,

that this was a
pleasure trip for you.

Oh, but it is. You see, I wrote those
two chapters before I left New York.

Take care. Yes.

Charlie...

Dorie, no.

Madame Fletcher.

Monsieur Garrett did not sleep
in his own room last evening.

Where is he?

I have no idea.

May I remind you,
madame, that you could well

be charged as an
accomplice in this affair.

We found him asleep in
the hills above Trinity Bay.

Perhaps now we
will learn the truth.

His pistol. It was
fired recently.

There's a single round
missing from the cylinder.

The one I fired at the killer, which is
what I've been trying to tell this bozo.

I spent most of the night trying
to track down the lousy bum.

Captain St. Denis, the bullet that killed
Mrs. Sparling, has it been recovered?

Regrettably, no. It passed through
the victim and is probably somewhere

beneath the sifting
sands of the inlet.

Fortunately, I do not
think that we will need it.

Hey, Dad, you got a minute?

Uh, can we talk about it later?

I'm worried. About you and Mom.

Oh, I thought the only thing you
worried about was saving enough money

to run away to New York City.

Your mother and I have had
problems before. They will pass.

Now, I have to go to Fort-de-France
to get some pipe fittings.

For Mr. Garrett's room? Yes.

I fixed it. It's not right.

Oh, what a surprise.

Ah, Jessica.

Problems? Yeah, he's bummed out.

Seems like Farrow's not going to
come across with the money he promised.

That's too bad.

Now, Charlie said that he
fired his gun in that direction

at a shadowy figure
running away from him.

You believe everything he
says? Charlie? Absolutely not.

Yet you trust him.

Well, I think it's more
that I understand him.

I... I really think that Charlie
is basically a decent man.

Who lies to you.

Well, who withholds things.
I mean, it's predictable.

He lives by his own code, which is
usually taking care of number one,

but then he will suddenly reveal
this foolhardy, courageous side,

such as risking his own life
to try and save Dorie Sparling.

Courage. God, I wish I had some.

There. What? Jessica,
what... What is that?

Hang on.

There. It's a bullet.

Well, I think that will
give Charlie an alibi.

At least it'll get
him out of jail.

Sparling, you
miserable son of a...

You did this.

Well, you just think of
it as a message, friend.

I want my money.
If I get it, and fast,

you'll continue to
lead a healthy life.

I don't have it. It
disappeared last night.

What do you mean?

You figure it out, Phil.
Talk to your hired gun.

I already have and you're lying.

Now, you listen
carefully, Graham.

You stole it from me,
you give it back to me.

You've got 12 hours to
confirm that it's on its way.

Hello, Hotel Deux
Perroquets. May I help you?

One moment, please.

Excuse me, Mrs. Venable. You have
a phone call from Richmond, Virginia.

It's your attorney.

Money? What money?

Look, Garrett,
don't mess with me.

Hey, Mr. Sparling, I don't know
what the hell you're talking about.

You know, you hired me
to find your wife. I found her.

Send me a bill.

Are you sure there's nothing...

Funny, I don't remember
calling room service.

Where's the money?

What is it with you?

All of a sudden everybody
wants to know where the money is.

I just got off the phone
telling your partner

I don't know anything
about any money.

Now, don't be a chump,
Garrett. You were had by the lady.

You watch what
you say about her.

Believe me, by now she'd have dumped
you and been halfway around the world.

Oh, yeah? Yeah.

Yes? Yes, that's exactly
what I'm looking for.

Dave, I have to go. Bye.

Charlie?

Charlie, are you in there?

Mr. Garrett is indisposed
just now, Mrs. Fletcher.

Well, I want to
see him. Charlie!

Look, Mr. Farrow, either
you let me in immediately,

or I'm notifying the police.

Oh, my! Charlie! Good
heavens, stop that!

Nothing that won't grow
back in a couple of months.

All right. They wanted
the money, right?

You, too? What is it with everybody?
They got money on the brain?

Charlie, I just got off the
phone with Dave Kowalski.

The reporter?

From the Chicago Examiner.

He said that the word
is that Philip Sparling

has been in deep
financial difficulty

ever since Graham Farrow
and his wife took off together.

Apparently she and Farrow cleaned
out the company bank accounts.

So? What does that
have to do with me?

Well, that plus the fact that Farrow
isn't financing the hotel repairs.

And also what I should have
suspected all along is that, as usual,

you haven't even been
close to being straight with me.

Jessica, look... Charlie, think.

If I hadn't turned up, you might
have been killed. You still might.

Dorie didn't steal her husband's
money. It must've been that guy, Farrow.

I mean, she was just trying
to get it back that night.

But the reason I didn't
tell you at the time was

I didn't want to get
you too deeply involved.

Too deeply involved?

Charlie, who do you think detained
Graham Farrow while you were off...

Okay, okay, all right.

I'm sorry.

Now, how much
are we talking about?

What difference does it make?

Charlie.

Six million bucks.

I gotta tell you, Jessica,

the thought of
putting all that money

back in the pocket of
that sleazo, Phil Sparling,

really frosts me.

Maybe he'll give you a reward.

In your dreams. It's under here.

I figured the best thing was to
stash it where nobody would think to...

It's not here. The money's gone!

Oh, Miss Willens, I was on my
way to see you. You're leaving?

I... I can't talk to you
now, Mr. Venable.

Oh, this won't take but a minute.
Here, let me help you with...

I said, "Not now."

Well, I think you'll
find it's important.

I, uh, hope you won't
be offended, Norma,

uh, Miss Willens,

but my mother, when she
saw that I was attracted to you,

she took the liberty of having her
attorney look into your, um, background.

Your mother did this?

I assure you, it was over
my most strenuous objections.

And your reputation
has proven spotless.

But there was one rather
curious aspect to the report.

I don't believe this.
Please, try and understand.

Well, it turns out that according
to the Teacher's Association,

you've been
deceased for two years.

Which may explain why you haven't
been getting any mail from them.

Ah, of course.

Well, I'll take care of it
as soon as I get home.

Thank you very much, Hilton.

My pleasure. Perhaps
I could call you?

She might welcome that,
Hilton, 'cause where she's going,

she's not going to
get too many calls.

Excuse me. Um, could someone
please tell me exactly what this is about?

It's about six million bucks and the
murder of a lady who didn't deserve to die.

Your sandals left a
very distinctive footprint

up in the jungle where
Charlie hid the money,

and where you found it.

Your suggestion to run an
Interpol check on this woman

was very astute,
madame Fletcher.

It turns out that she is a professional
assassin, Marybeth Carlson,

wanted for murder
in several countries.

Good heavens.
She's a contract hitter?

Who sent you?

I have a feeling it was
your client, Charlie.

Phil Sparling?
No, no, no. Oh, no.

He hired me to rescue his wife.

No.

No.

And once Garrett led me to
Mrs. Sparling and Graham Farrow,

my job was to get
the money back.

Yeah, and there I was, too dumb to
realize that I'd set Dorie up for this.

This weapon we found, you used
it to assassinate madame Sparling?

No.

I followed Garrett down to the bay, I
watched him bring Mrs. Sparling ashore.

Yes, I did have the rifle with me,
but I was only gonna scare them.

Someone else shot her.

I never did see who.

But that is a night scope,
and I did see the cash.

So you followed Charlie
up to the jungle shack

and watched where
he hid the money?

And when he left, I grabbed it.

And I was just about
to go to the airport...

All right. Despite your
denial, madame Willens...

Or, rather, Carlson,

I am placing you under arrest
for the murder of Dorie Sparling.

Look, I told you,
I didn't kill her.

Go ahead, check my weapon.
It hasn't been fired in months.

That's it!

Pardon? Don't ask.
She gets this way.

I believe I know who
killed Mrs. Sparling. But...

But in order to prove it, I
need to stop in the village.

But just so that
everybody understands,

this doesn't necessarily
mean that our marriage is over.

I simply felt the need to get back to
Maine for a while and get my head straight.

We talked it all out.

It's the best thing that she
could do for all of us, I think.

I certainly hope
you're right, Maurice.

So, Norma Willens
killed Dorie Sparling?

It looks that way. You
know, I really feel...

I really feel very
sorry for Charlie.

Mrs. Sparling's death,
well, he took it very badly.

Yeah, I saw him going out a
while ago. He seemed pretty upset.

I offered to go with him, but
he seemed to want to be alone.

Oh, that reminds me,

it's past my bedtime.

Night. Good night, everyone.

Dad.

Good night, Jeff.

Well, you sure as hell
called that right, Jessica.

Monsieur Garrett. Jessica. I had a
report there was a lizard in the room.

There is, pal. You.
Dorie Sparling's killer.

And you came here to find
the money you murdered her for.

Oh, no, no, you are mistaken.

I wish we were, Maurice.

First of all, it had to be someone
who knew Charlie's moves.

Such as the fact that he was
going up to Trinity Bay last night

to rescue Dorie
Sparling from the yacht.

Well, that... That would be Miss Willens.
I heard that she followed him up there.

No, no, no, Jessica's talking about
somebody who probably got there before me.

Someone who also had a way of knowing
that Dorie Sparling had found the money

that Graham Farrow
stole from her husband

and knew that she
was bringing it ashore.

Well, how would I know that?

By listening in on
Charlie's phone calls.

Yesterday, when
I was in the lobby,

I noticed how you were able to
break into the guest room phone calls.

Sorry to cut in, Mrs. Donohue.
I think I have cleared your line.

Between the hotel's ancient equipment
and your handiness with such things,

I'm sure it was
quite a simple matter.

Oh, dear. Jessica, I respect your
imagination and your creativity,

but it is clear they
have gotten out of hand.

Now, excuse me.

I wouldn't do that, pal.

There's something else, Maurice.

This isn't the first time that you've
searched Charlie's room for that money.

Forgive me, but now you
are being truly ridiculous.

Wrong, buster.

This afternoon, I noticed Captain
St. Denis' watering can was clogged,

and it reminded me that when I
came out of my room earlier today,

you had apparently just
been in Charlie's room,

ostensibly to repair
his clogged sink.

For Mr. Garrett's room? Yes.

I fixed it. It's not right.

Oh, that's a surprise.

The fact was, Jeff
had fixed the drain.

You were simply using it as an
excuse to get into Charlie's room.

And I noticed when you
went to light your cigar,

you couldn't find this,
your missing lighter.

The one you lost at
the inlet from Trinity Bay.

We found it right where you
were standing when you shot Dorie.

At the base of the tree where I found
the bullet that Charlie fired at you.

After the poker game, I happened to
overhear Sergeant Courbet mention that

Mr. Garrett has
arrived on the island

and that he was a private
investigator from Chicago.

I was desperate to
get back at Farrow.

I knew he and Mrs. Sparling were
from Chicago, so I was curious.

Maybe there was a connection.

And when you discovered
Charlie was a guest at the hotel,

you checked his phone calls.

And voilà, there it was. He had
been talking to Philip Sparling.

And so you listened to
the rest of my phone calls.

And when Mrs. Sparling
called and mentioned the money,

I made a decision.

To kill her and Charlie
and take the money.

Yes. But when Mr. Garrett fired
back at me and almost hit me,

I panicked and ran away.

My lighter. If you
had not found that...

I didn't. I noticed that you
were without it after the murder.

I bought this one
today, in the village

on the chance that I was right.

I mean, I'm not sure that it would
have been Lauren's first choice

for getting a new start,

but the hotel's all hers, and Graham
Farrow has signed a quitclaim on his share.

Oh, that's nice.

And Jeff's decided to stay
on with her, and Colette.

Good. Mmm-hmm.

Jessica, what time do you have?

Well, five minutes later
than the last time you asked.

Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that I
don't want to miss my plane.

Well, Charlie, I
don't blame you.

Yeah, I know.

It was just so damned
sweet there for a while,

even though it was all
maybe just a fantasy.

I guess I should put a lid
on that kind of stuff, huh?

I don't think you can, Charlie. But
don't even try. You're a romantic.

Who, me? Come on.

Listen, there aren't enough people
like you in the world these days.

So when are you heading back?

Well, not until after I've
had a vacation, thank you.

You mean, you haven't
been having a vacation?

All this time I thought
you were resting.

Rest? Listen, I've got
tennis in half an hour,

and then Jeff's giving
me a scuba lesson.

Charlie, it's not too
late for you to try it.