Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 12, Episode 9 - Deadly Bidding - full transcript

FEMALE NARRATOR:
Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

The stolen Degas.

I happen to know you've
done your share of forgeries.

Well, even on the black-market it
can bring upwards of four million.

I'd have to be crazy to
bid on something that hot.

Sold to Mrs. Fletcher.

$400,0000.

People have to see your work
before they'll spend their money.

Where is the Degas?

I really don't know
where the picture is.

Still keeping bad
company, Jessica.



I don't think I can
trust you, Charlie.

Where did you find this
idiot Garrett anyway?

I'll kill him!

Hey, look, pal,
don't crowd me, huh?

MAN ON RADIO: And in local news,

an Edgar Degas masterpiece,
The Dancing Class,

valued at between 15 and 20
million dollars was stolen this evening

from the Brinfield
collection on Fifth Avenue.

According to a police spokesperson,
it was the work of professional thieves,

but thus far, they
have no leads.

And now back to,
Music Through the Night.

Wow. The stolen Degas.

The Dancing Class?
This is... Wow.

You know, I had no idea you
were talking about this. This...



Look, this could
be a problem here.

Let me show you. This old canvas
stretcher, it could be a dead giveaway.

Listen, friend, I don't
have time for games.

I happen to know you've
done your share of forgeries

and I've got it on
very good authority

that you don't have a pot
to soak your brushes in.

Now where's the sample? Mmm.

Okay. Okay. This is pretty
much what I had in mind.

Angus, it's perfect.
Thank you. I despise it.

Thanks.

I call it Arrangement
in Grey and Red.

This version's a lot smaller, but I'll
paint something like it over the Degas.

You're sure it can be removed
without damaging the Degas?

Yeah. Yeah.

Then do it. And don't screw up.

(GRUNTS)

Mr. Rundle, it took some doing to
find you. What's with the new name?

Mezznou, I can explain.

I look forward to it.

It's not what you think.

Now, where is the Degas?

(GRUNTS) All right! All right!

Please, God, don't hurt me.

The painting is
over... (GASPING)

Is he?

Yeah. Damn.

FELIX: My dear Mrs. Fletcher,
I would love to help you,

but with all your demands for
more and more authentication

of what is obviously a genuine
Arthur Conan Doyle journal

and with absolutely no guarantees
that the Museum of Cultural History

would actually go
through with the purchase,

I felt I had no choice,
but to put it up for auction.

JESSICA: Mr. Wesker, I have
a responsibility to the Museum

and you know very well why the
additional documentation was necessary.

Oh, please. Not that tedious
misunderstanding again.

Misunderstanding?

Mrs. Fletcher, I truly believed
that the Thomas Nast etching

your committee bought
from me was genuine.

If I hadn't, I wouldn't
have sold it to them.

And as your assistant
curator can attest,

I refunded the
Museum's money in full.

Did I not, Ms. Evers?

Uh, yeah, after our
attorneys got into it.

Don't remind me.

In any case, I'm certain the bidding
won't go far beyond the $35,000

you were prepared to spend.

Plus the auction
house commission,

which will put us way over our
budget even if nobody bids against us.

And you will have had
time to satisfy yourselves

that it was written
by Conan Doyle.

The notations are
his. His paper...

Mr. Wesker, I'd like to have
one more look at the journal.

FELIX: I'm sorry.

It's already been delivered
to the auction house.

I'm sure they will accommodate
you. Now, if you'll excuse me.

Mr. Wesker, have you had a chance
to look at the portfolio I left with you?

My boyfriend's photos?

Oh, yes. I'll get to
it in a day or two.

Bye, bye.

Felix, you couldn't have
lit my work a little better?

Angus, the answer is still no.

I need that money, Felix, now.

And I told you, not unless I know
what this business deal is all about.

You've managed to run through
more than $50,000 in advances

in less than 18 months. I know.

And I'm not going to throw
good money after bad.

Excuse me. Look, Felix, I
need the money, all right,

so that I can buy my painting back
before it goes on the auction block.

Arrangement in Grey
and Red? Mmm-hmm.

Angus, this is hardly
your best work.

I know, but I have a certain
sentimental attachment to it.

No. As your friend, I'm simply not going
to let you waste your money, or mine.

(WOMAN CLEARS THROAT)

Mrs. Stephenson, you wanted to
see the Richard Pickering, didn't you?

The big one.

Charlie, I didn't bring
you all the way from

Chicago for you to
ask a lot of questions.

I will tell you this
much, though...

Leona, the Gunderson brief,
paragraph two, subparagraph B

should read, "Whereas,"
not "Hereas." You got that?

Thank you. My client happens
to be a well-known collector

and the way the high-end
art business works,

if he was to bid on that painting himself,
the price would go clear off the charts.

Uh-huh. You mean
like at the track,

when the guys bet the
favorite and all the local yokels

figure that somebody
knows something, huh?

In a manner of speaking.

Well, tell me, Milt, what is the
something that your client knows about

this Arrangement
in Grey and Red?

He wants to hang it on
the wall and look at it, okay?

Okay.

There's $100,000 in there for you to
bid, plus the auction gallery commission.

And a $2,000 fee for you. The
easiest money you'll ever make.

Look, when the waiter shows up,
just sign it on my account, okay?

Okay, but I've gotta tell you,
the only auction I ever went to

was when they
repossessed my Chevy.

Just watch the action. You'll
get the hang of it in no time,

but whatever you do, do not...

Do not, repeat, do not bid one
penny over 100,000 bucks. I got it.

GILES: I'm sure Mrs. Lauterbond
will get over her disappointment.

Perhaps next time she'll give us her
consignment before we print our catalog.

Peter, would you please tell
the caterers that if I see another

hors d'oeuvre with cheese sauce
or mayonnaise, that they're fired?

Right. Thanks.

Now look, Diana, we have got to
watch our printing and promotion costs.

And our phone bills last
month were outrageous.

Giles, I'm on top of it.

(SIGHS)

Ah, Ms. Evers, have you and Jessica
finished examining the Conan Doyle journal?

Oh, she's still going
over it, Mr. Havelock.

She said to tell you
she's got some questions.

Very well.

Milt, how many times
do I have to tell you?

I cannot have the damned thing
X-rayed without raising questions.

Do you want me to
play this again for you?

First, you have the
canvas stretcher.

Degas was the only artist that
secured his with tulipwood wedges.

And then there's the age of the
wood and the age of the canvas.

They haven't manufactured
that weave since 1902.

And the dimensions.
Are you sure?

They're identical
to the millimeter.

Sweetie, there's
absolutely no risk.

Garrett bids on
Arrangement in Grey and Red.

If we have any strong
counter-bids, well, we just know

someone else knows the value.

And if it's Interpol or the
police or one of the thieves...

So what? Garrett is left holding
the bag, we deny everything.

Look, my guess is the only other
person who knows the value is Angus

and he can't afford to
reveal his complicity.

Honey, nobody is gonna outbid
the $200,000 that you gave to Garrett.

100. What? Are you joking?

That's all I could get my hands on.
Helen's got my assets tied up like...

Great. Great, great.

All right, is this Garrett
gonna make trouble for us?

Charlie Garrett can barely
find his way across town.

Oh, God, Diana, you have no idea
how badly I want this to work out,

for us to be together.

Yeah.

With a free-and-clear nest
egg of four million dollars

that your wife can never touch.

"March 14th, 1926.

"The vitality in the sea of faces
I saw yesterday at Ellis Island,

"this threshold free at last from
famine, Cossacks, religious oppression,

"made me understand, finally, the dream,
the pull of the American experience."

Impressive.

There was clearly a great deal more to Sir
Arthur Conan Doyle than Sherlock Holmes.

Which most writers
would kill to have created.

Oh, I don't know, Giles.

I mean, the documentation
of the handwriting,

the provenances, they...

They all check out.

But somehow I just can't shake
my doubts that it's genuine.

A healthy attitude.

Between my years in the
business and my forebears

looking over my
shoulder, lest I forget,

I've learned to mistrust the
authenticity of nearly anything I sell.

And frankly, with a gallery
owner like Felix Wesker involved,

your reservations
are doubly justified.

(CHUCKLES) Thanks.

That makes it so much easier for
me to spend the Museum's money.

On the other hand, I believe
this'll be the third or fourth time

we've sold the piece and yet
the price is still very reasonable.

Meaning that there
wouldn't be much profit

in going to all the
trouble of forging it.

Precisely. It's not as if
we're talking a fake da Vinci.

At any rate, Jessica, let's
hope the only bumps tonight

will be from customers
eagerly outbidding one another.

Hope so. After you.

PETER: It's bad enough that
you gave the gallery my pictures

without even asking,
but to Felix Wesker!

I mean, the guy has raised
schlock-hyping to an art form all its own.

Peter, wait a second. First up, he's
someone we do business with at the Museum.

And secondly, you don't
realize how talented you are.

No! No! No!

The pictures are just
plain not good enough yet

and we are not gonna begin our lives
together eating peanut butter and jelly.

Peter, people have to see your work
before they'll spend their money on it.

No, sweetheart, listen, I have
got to do things my way, my terms

when I feel that I am ready.

FELIX: I just wanted to
satisfy myself about something.

(COUGHS)

It's dusty in here, isn't it?

Well, it's definitely
a minor work.

Well, with Angus,
it's always hard to tell.

How fortunate you're
not paid to be an art critic.

Felix, is there something
else you'd like to see?

No. No.

Oh! Incidentally,
this Mrs. Rundle,

the woman who brought
Angus's painting to my gallery

and is now putting it up for
auction, what do you know about her?

Not much. We're selling
a few items for her.

A couple of unimportant
Louis Quinze chests,

a low-end Tiffany lamp.

Apparently, she's liquidating
her late husband's estate.

Well, she's obviously a woman of
deep sentiment or shallow pockets.

ANGUS: Look, Mr. Lorenzo,

I can resell the item within
a skinny minute, okay?

So, you know, I can pay
you back within 10 days, max.

(LORENZO CHATTERING) Hmm?

No. No. It's a painting, okay?

And I've got a buyer who'll...

(PHONE LINE DRONES) Mr. Lorenzo?

Damn.

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

Ah, Mr. Mezznou. Hey,
come on in. Come on in.

You were smart
to call me directly.

I can offer you a very attractive
deal on one of my paintings

and that way you don't
have to pay Felix's mark-up.

I misled you, Mr. Neville,

in order that you might talk
about one of your earlier efforts.

The one to be sold at the Greylight Auction
Galleries, Arrangement in Grey and Red.

Hey, who... Who
the hell are you guys?

Mr. Neville, I assure you that Orlando and
I are not with any law-enforcement agency.

However, I was wondering
if you might have been

acquainted with the
subject of this obituary.

Mr. Kenneth Rundle?

No. Why?

Mr. Neville, were you considering
bidding on your own work?

(SIGHS) Well, yeah, you
know, for old times' sake, yeah.

Permit me to offer
you an admonition.

If you bid on it or have anyone
else do so on your behalf,

my friend here, Orlando,
will very likely kill you

and the other person or persons.

And that includes Mr. Rundle's
widow, Serena Rundle.

(EXHALES)

What do you say, pal?
Come to these circuses often?

And what with the increasing popularity
of Angus Neville's work, Mrs. Rundle,

I really believe that
you're going to be surprised

at the price this piece brings.

My, that would be lovely,
now, wouldn't it, Ms. Barrow?

My late husband and I agreed on almost
everything, except for his taste in art.

Because I recognized the
canvas stretcher, that's how I knew.

Honestly, Angus,
you could've told me.

Look, I'm sorry, okay?

Felix, I never knew what
became of the damned thing

till it showed up
in your gallery.

The guy I painted it
for, this Kenneth Rundle,

he never told me his real name.

Felix, Felix, you
take 65, I'll take 35.

Are you kidding?

I'd have to be crazy to
bid on something that hot.

Come on.

Who else is gonna know about it
except the late Mr. Rundle and me?

I mean, obviously his widow doesn't
have a clue there's a Degas underneath.

(SHUSHES)

Did you see the insulting price
she's started at for my work?

Felix, even if the law
is onto it, don't you

think they would have
made their move by now?

Ever occur to you, my friend, the law
may be waiting just to see who bids on it?

Okay. Then I'll... I'll
claim it's a forgery.

(SCOFFS) Of an Angus Neville?

(SIGHS) Felix,
even as stolen goods,

the damned thing's gotta
be worth what, four, five mil?

Case closed, period.

Okay, okay, okay. How about
instead of 65, 35, how about 70, 30?

I should have my head examined.

90,10.

Done.

Felix, maybe it'd be a good idea if,
you know, we didn't talk to each other

until after you
bought the painting.

PETER: So, I tried calling
Reggie all afternoon to apologize,

but she wasn't
answering her phone.

Well, maybe she wasn't there.

Ah, Mrs. Fletcher. Hello.

I presume you're satisfied
about the Conan Doyle journal?

No, but my own
doubts notwithstanding,

the other members of
the board seem to feel that

it's too important an
acquisition to pass up,

so they've authorized me
to go ahead and bid on it.

Wonderful.

Excuse me.

I've just got to get a few paintings
out of the storeroom for the auction.

Uh...

I always get the last
three numbers screwed up.

Pete, Giles mentioned
that the Conan Doyle

journals had been
auctioned about three times

in the past three years.

Be interesting to talk to
some of those previous owners.

Yeah, and find out why it
changed hands so often.

Is there any way we
could get their names?

Well, I'll see what I can do.

As soon as I finish with
the rest of the auction lots.

Good.

I had very little knowledge of

my husband's business
activities, Mr. Mezznou,

but frankly, I don't know what
business it is of yours, anyway.

Madame, please.
I meant no offense.

I was merely curious

where he might have acquired
Arrangement in Grey and Red.

Mezznou, what brings
you to New York?

Investment,
Mr. Havelock. Investment.

As I'm sure you're aware
of the growing demand

in the Middle East and in Europe
for American contemporary.

Indeed there is,

but apparently Mrs.
Rundle isn't interested.

I apologize.

And I should warn you that like
so many people in this business,

that man is not an
ethical character.

Oh, thank you.
Even I could see that.

Hi. Oh, Reggie.

Oh! I gotta tell you...

No, Pete. I was way
off-base. No, no, no.

You had it nailed, I have been
afraid of putting myself out there.

And that is all about
to change, okay?

Okay. Okay.

MAN: Ladies and gentlemen,
the auction is about to begin.

Please take your seats.

Look, the bidding is about to
start and I'll see you out front.

Okay. Okay.

GILES: And I have
$17,000. $17,000.

$17,500. $17,500.

20.20 on the phones.

Thank you, Diana. 20 on
the phones. In the room.

So Greylight Auction Galleries
sold the Conan Doyle journal

three times in the
past four years?

And each time the
seller was Felix Wesker.

But look, the buyer
was different each time.

Yeah. Mrs. Sarah Weiskopf.

Anthony Dimarco, Richard Rimsen.

And a "T" in front of
each of their names.

I wonder what that means.

Well, I don't know, Reggie,
but I wish there was time

to get in touch
with these people.

Number 435, which is
the original manuscript

of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's
New York journal, dated 1926.

Oh, that's us.

GILES: And I can tell
you, it's a fascinating item.

We'll start the bidding
at $20,000. Charlie.

Jessica. What are
you doing here?

Well, I'm bidding on something.

Well, I'm bidding on a painting.
Hey, I could use your help.

Oh, well, not right
now, Charlie. Later.

Excuse me. GILES:
$25,000? $30,000?

Do I have $30,000?

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,
in the room I have $30,000. $30,000?

$32,000. I have $32,000
there. Can you see?

Is it Mr. Wesker
running up the price?

GILES: 33? $32,000. $32,000.

(WHISPERING) I can't
tell. I have $32,000. $32,000.

$33,000.33.

34.34.34 on my left.

Here goes my limit. 35. Okay.

$35,000.35.35.

Last call. Fair warning then.

With you $35,000.

Sold to Mrs. Fletcher.

And the next item is lot number
436, Arrangement in Grey and Red.

American contemporary. Oil
on canvas by Angus Neville.

And I suggest we open
this at $25,000.25? 25.

25, 25, $27,000?

Thirty.

GILES: $30,000. I have
$30,000 here. Thank you, sir.

35.35. $40,000.

$40,000. $40,000.50. $70,000.

GILES: $70,000. $70,000.
70? 70? 70? 70? In the rooms.

80.

80. $80,000. I have $80,000.
Thank you very much, sir.

80? 80? 80? Make it 100 grand.

$100,000. I have $100,000.

That's all she wrote.

GILES: $100,000? $100,000?

105.105.

$105,000. With you, sir, 105.

105. Fair warning.
It's gonna be sold.

$105,000.105.

Does the bidder in the second
row mean to bid $400,000?

Very well, fair warning then.

$400,000. Sold.

$400,000 to Mr. Charles Garrett.

Yeah, where did you find
this idiot Garrett anyway?

I'll kill him!

Look, is there any chance
that you can get that money?

What? What, if you can't come
up with the other $300,000,

where the hell do you think I'm
gonna find that kind of money?

I want this painting,
Milt. Do you understand?

Look, I gotta go.

All in all, a
successful evening.

Yes, it was.

With a few surprises.

You mean the Angus
Neville painting?

I've just had calls from a
pair of our regular customers

who were bidding
on the Angus Neville.

Van Eyck in Amsterdam,
Sinclair in London.

They both said you put them on hold
and suddenly they were disconnected.

They were very unhappy
until I told them the selling price.

They weren't prepared
to go that high.

I'm sorry, Giles.

Oh, I'm sure. Curious, though.

The bidding for that item also
seemed to have a profound effect

on Lawrence
Mezznou, Felix Wesker.

Well, I wouldn't know
anything about that.

Mmm-hmm.

Well, the good news is we
can meet next month's rent.

Good night. Good night.

I'm afraid your client is right.

You are liable for
the entire amount.

400,000 bucks? Yes.

And the gallery's commission,
plus legal fees, if any.

On top of that, he wants
his money back, all of it.

How could I have been so dumb?

And his anonymous
buyer can't come up with it?

Or won't. Either way, I'm definitely
up the mall without a credit card.

Which reminds me, this is
a very expensive restaurant.

Don't worry about that,
Jessica. I've got that covered.

WAITER: Excuse me.

Mr. Garrett, there's a phone call for you
on the house phone near the restrooms.

For me? Yes, sir.

Nobody knows I'm here.

The gentleman asked for Mr. Charles
Garrett dining with Mrs. Fletcher.

You're sure? Yes, sir.

Huh.

Look, put this on
Mr. Solomon's account

and write in a
nice tip for yourself.

Thank you.

Yeah. Hello?

Thank you for taking
my call, Mr. Garrett.

Regrettably, either Angus
Neville failed to convey to you

the sincerity of my warning
not to bid on his painting,

or you chose to ignore it.

You talking about the
painter? He never said anything.

Hey, look, pal,
don't crowd me, huh?

(GRUNTS) JESSICA: Mr. Mezznou.

I suggest that you both leave
immediately, or I'll call the police.

(EXCLAIMS)

Yes.

CHARLIE: You know,
Jessica, you seem

pretty well-connected
in this art business.

You know anything
about this Angus Neville,

the guy who painted
Arrangement in Grey and Red?

No, but that fellow
Mezznou's companion,

the guy who hit
you, he had a gun.

You're kidding. Mmm-mmm.

Now, you knew that, Charlie.

Now, you and I both know

that there is something about
that picture that isn't quite right.

You know, it's getting
late and I gotta run.

I got a very heavy day tomorrow
trying to come up with all that scratch.

Look, Charlie, slow down.

And besides, you know, Mezznou
and that Felix what's-his-name...

Wesker. Yeah.

They had their faces fixed on buying
that turkey and I took it away from them.

They'll get over it. I'm gonna call
you just before I leave for Chicago.

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

Hey, look, if it's
about my painting...

No! (SCREAMS)

(DOOR CLOSES)

UNGER: And
naturally, the victim,

he had to have been at
an art auction with maybe

100,000 people
I've gotta talk to.

Anyway, thanks for coming over.

When I heard you were there, I
figured that makes one less person

I've gotta track down.

Well, I expected you to
be halfway to Niagara Falls.

Yeah. The call came in
just as we were leaving.

Arlene's flying up.

I'll join her there in a
couple of months if I'm lucky.

The officer at the door said that
it looked like a burglary-homicide.

Well, at first glance, yeah.

Perpetrator cleaned
out the victim's wallet,

wristwatch, etcetera,
cabinets rifled.

But there's no
sign of forced entry.

Now, the 911 call
came in at 2:15 a.m.

A neighbor heard
some thumping noises.

Preliminary indicates he
was stabbed through the heart.

Now, this individual, you said,

bought the victim's
painting last night...

Looks like maybe a painting was
cut off this canvas stretcher, Sergeant.

It's hard to tell
if it was recent.

Hmm, that's old wood.

And I found this on the floor.
Looks like a phone number.

And I just heard from downtown.

There was a theft last night at
the Greylight Auction Galleries.

Only item stolen was a
painting by the decedent.

Something called
Arrangement in Grey and Red.

About 1:45 a.m. they took it.

What?

Well, that's the painting
that Mr. Garrett bought.

Mac, check out that phone number

and this canvas stretcher
against that stolen painting.

Okay.

Anyway, you happen to
know this Garrett's first name?

Charles.

Charles Garrett. I ran into
a guy by that name once

on an extradition from Chicago.

Not the kind of bozo you'd
ever have anything to do with.

Jessica, you're kidding.
That Charles Garrett?

REGGIE: Pete, Jessica
recognized the security code.

It's just a matter of time until they
find your fingerprints on that paper.

But how did it get into
Angus Neville's studio?

Well, thanks.

Here are the new
photos. What do you think?

Oh! They're great.

I'm going for it.

I think everything will be okay.

But why all the
sudden confidence?

I was wrong and you were right.

We have to begin living our
lives now and the money will come.

Fantastic.

Now, about the previous owners
of the Conan Doyle journal?

Jessica wanted to know if you
were able to speak to any of them.

Oh, no luck.

The phone numbers
in the computer,

two in Manhattan,
one in Queens are stale

and there aren't any current listings
in any of the five borough phonebooks.

Hmm.

So it's like they left
town or disappeared.

Well, those printouts you showed
us, were you able to find out

what the "T" next to any
of those names meant?

Yeah, it means that they
weren't at the auction.

They just phoned in their bids.

GILES: Absolutely, Mrs. Foster.

Yes, I understand completely

and I assure you our security
will be tighter than ever.

(DOOR OPENS)

What? Oh, I can be there...

It's 2:55. Yeah, I can
be there in half an hour.

Yes, splendid. And goodbye.

(SIGHS) That was yet another client I had
to talk out of withdrawing her collection

from our next auction.

Oh, uh, here's that list of
unsolved art thefts you asked for.

I don't suppose you care to give me a hint
as to how that mind of yours is working.

Not just yet, Giles. Thank you.

Right.

How do we know that you didn't kill
Angus and take the painting for yourself?

Darling, I understand
how upset you are,

so I'll discount the fact that you
could even think such a thing.

Yeah, well, if you didn't
do it, then Garrett did.

And if the police get to him...

If the police get to him, then you're
gonna look an awful lot like an accomplice.

Along with you.

That's where you're
wrong, Milt, darling.

Disappointed? You don't
understand, Mr. Wesker.

I'm... I'm... I'm crushed.

I loved Arrangement
in Grey and Red.

It spoke to me. I'm sure.

Look, Garrett, I'm not about to
discuss Angus or his painting.

I know nothing about this Mezznou
fellow and I have work to do.

So if you'll excuse
me. Wait a minute. Uh...

Suppose I told you that I could lay my
hands on Arrangement in Grey and Red,

what'd it be worth to you?

Zero, friend. Bupkis.

Bupkis? You wanted it
pretty badly last night.

Well, that was before people
started getting murdered.

Besides, look around you
at all these Angus Nevilles.

Now that he's dead, the price of his
work is going to go through the roof.

Garrett, I don't know
what your agenda is, but...

I've been wondering
about that myself

and you're about to
satisfy my curiosity.

Wait a minute, don't I know
you? Sunger, Bunger, uh...

Unger. Right.

Now, where was it?
63rd and Stony Island.

You were having trouble
trying to arrest some poor schlub

who'd locked himself
in the back of your car.

That's enough, Garrett.

Come on, there's a lot of questions
you're gonna have to answer.

CHARLIE: Yeah? Like what?

Like how a guy with 247
bucks in his checking account

can afford to buy a
painting for 400 large.

Like where you were between
2:00 and 5:00 this morning.

And like how the hell a
lady like Jessica Fletcher

ever got involved with you.

All right, let's go.

JESSICA: There it is.

Now, this one died five years ago
and that's why you couldn't locate them.

The last three people who
owned the Conan Doyle journal

were all dead
when they bought it.

Well, I don't understand.

I think I'm beginning to.

Pete, look. Kenneth
Rundle's obituary.

Ah, the guy whose wife put Angus
Neville's painting up for auction.

Exactly.

You know, we may have stumbled
onto something far more important

than my concerns
over Mr. Doyle's journal.

According to this,
Mr. Rundle was never married.

Hmm.

Mr. Dunning, you got a minute?

Sergeant Unger.

Oh, yeah. Sure.

Here, honey. Huh?

Could you go get
the car, please?

Yeah. Sure.

Is there something I
can do for you, Sergeant?

Yeah, there is.

You can explain to me what you were
doing in Angus Neville's studio last night.

Oh. Oh, the security
code numbers.

Bingo. Ah.

I was gonna call
you. Sure you were.

No. Really, really. I've
been tied up all day.

I have never been
to Angus's studio.

What do you do here at the
auction gallery, Mr. Dunning?

Yeah. Anything, everything.
It's just my day job.

My real career is photography.
But listen, Sergeant...

Must be a tough row to hoe, huh?

Hanging around all those zillionaires,
schlepping million dollar paintings

for what, 20 bucks an hour?

Ten.

Pete. You gave me the
house key by mistake.

Oh.

You nervous, Mr. Dunning? No.

Don't make any
travel plans, okay?

Goodbye.

Bye.

Hey, it's... It's okay.

JESSICA: A murder,
an old stretcher,

a new painting, a dead,
unmarried art collector

whose nonexistent
widow puts it up for sale,

a lot of people very
interested in bidding on it.

And then that report of unsolved art
thefts that Giles Havelock got for me.

Now, it's called
The Dancing Class.

The dimensions are identical
to Arrangement in Grey and Red.

Hmm.

Stolen two years ago from the Brinfield
collection right here in Manhattan.

Charlie, are you certain
that you had no idea?

Well, I mean, of course I knew
that there was something twisted.

I mean, after all, you got Milt
Solomon, Mezznou, this Wesker fellow.

I mean, they all had to
know. I was just the patsy.

Now, tell me about the
painting, this Dee-gas.

Degas.

Whatever. It's worth
a bundle, right?

Well, according to my
friend at the Daily Chronicle,

even on the black market it
can bring upwards of four million.

Four million?

That's a lot of money.

Uh, Charlie, wait.

You don't really intend to
try trafficking in stolen goods

instead of doing
the honorable thing.

Jessica, I mean, it's hard to
walk away from that kind of dough.

No. I am not going
to look the other way

while you chase after
one more brass ring...

But... And very likely get
yourself killed in the bargain.

Now, before we go to the police,

are you sure you've been
truthful with me about everything?

Absolutely. I...

That's very
reassuring, Mr. Garrett.

Because I can assume that what
you have told Felix Wesker is accurate.

That you do indeed know the whereabouts
of Arrangement in Grey and Red,

or if you prefer,

Edgar Degas' The Dancing Class.

Now I submit that it will be
unfortunate for you and Mrs. Fletcher

if you do not share this
information with me, right now.

CHARLIE: Now wait a minute.

You think I did Angus
Neville and stole the painting?

Huh! What are you,
out of your mind?

I was scamming Felix Wesker.

I haven't the foggiest
idea where that painting is.

You are going to take
us there, Mr. Garrett. Now.

Charlie, at the risk of
saying, "I told you so,"

do you see what playing fast and loose
with the truth has finally got you into?

But, Jessica, I really don't
know where the picture is.

Mr. Mezznou, you don't
expect me to sit here while...

It was your choice, madam.

And it probably'll be the
last one you'll ever make.

(EXCLAIMS IN DISGUST)

How disgusting! I've
never seen anything...

Waiter.

Mrs. Fletcher, what's wrong?

There's a creature in my soup.

Excuse me. Jessica,
that was brilliant.

Now, where are we going?

Not to the police, I
hope, not for a while.

Charlie, that's exactly
where we're going. Well...

Ah, Mrs. Fletcher, Mr. Garrett.

You've got an awful
lot of explaining to do.

I'm special agent
Karla Nemeth, FBI.

Lady, you've got some
explaining to do yourself.

Still keeping bad
company, Jessica.

Sergeant, we were
on our way to see you.

UNGER: Sure you were.

Garrett, you're under arrest for complicity
in the theft of a Degas painting,

not to mention very likely
murdering Angus Neville.

And you, Jessica,
if we weren't friends,

you'd be looking at a possible
charge of obstruction of justice.

Oh.

OFFICER: Let's go.

Kenneth Rundle was a
known international art thief.

Our office recognized him
from his obituary photograph.

Ah, it's the one you
showed me. Mmm.

We got a warrant to
search Rundle's apartment.

I took one look at the proportions
of Arrangement in Grey and Red

and guessed the truth.

So we had it X-rayed.

And you found the
Degas underneath.

So Agent Nemeth...

Yeah, I'll handle
this, Sergeant.

I posed as Rundle's wife

and put it in Felix Wesker's
gallery for a few weeks

to see who we could smoke out.

When nobody bit, we
decided to put it up for auction.

And we heard that Rundle had
double-crossed his partners in crime.

Mr. Mezznou and Orlando.

Yes, and apparently they were in bed with
your friend here and his so-called client.

Oh, come on, lady,
give me a break.

You're as far out in
left field as this guy.

(WHISPERS) Charlie!

Sergeant, getting
back to business,

we got a lot of
questions to ask this man.

So when are you going
to be finished with him?

I'll let you know, Agent Nemeth.

Meanwhile, this is
my case, my collar,

and I want you out of here, now.

(WOMAN CHATTERING ON PA)

Mrs. Fletcher.

Telephone, Sergeant.

Yeah.

MAN: Sergeant, the waitress
confirmed Garrett's alibi.

(SIGHS)

All right, thanks. And keep
looking for the murder weapon.

Okay, Garrett.

The waitress in the all-night
coffee shop confirms your alibi.

Didn't I tell you?

She said that waiting on you
was like time stood still for her.

CHARLIE: Yeah? UNGER: Yeah.

She said she'll never forget pouring
you six cups of coffee for a 20 cent tip.

Get him out of here, Jessica.

Time stood still.

Jessica, what are
you talking about?

I think I know where to find the
painting and who murdered Angus Neville.

Really? Aren't you
gonna let me in on it?

(SIGHS) I don't think I
can trust you, Charlie.

Jessica?

Charlie, you were supposed
to go and find Sergeant Unger.

Yeah, I know I was, but fortunately
my better judgment kicked in.

Anyway, you weren't
being that straight with me.

Well, with good reason,
obviously, Charlie.

The truth is ever
since I met you,

I've been afraid that something
like this would happen.

Is there anything
that I can say?

Not this time, Jessica.
The stakes are just too high.

I must say I'm greatly relieved.

Giles?

Because you and
Mr. Garrett are friends,

I had serious doubts
when he called me.

I was afraid I was being set up.

But you see, I made
him an irresistible offer.

Half of everything in exchange
for keeping my mouth shut.

I'll probably hate
myself, Jessica, but...

Charlie.

You can't trust him.
He's a murderer.

That's a rather outrageous thing
to say, Jessica. And quite untrue.

Well, not really, Giles.

When I stopped in here earlier
today, you were on the phone.

It's now 2:55. I can
be there in half an hour.

Goodbye.

And yet your clock said
2:37, just as it does now.

At the time, I simply assumed
it was a few minutes slow.

But when Sergeant Unger
mentioned the words, "Time stood still,"

I remembered that the pendulum
wasn't moving and realized

it had actually stopped
at 2:37 this morning,

when you returned from
having murdered Angus

and stealing Arrangement
in Grey and Red,

and inadvertently jammed
the clock's mechanism

by concealing this inside.

Arrangement in Grey and
Red painted over the Degas.

I'm impressed, Jessica.

Yes.

Yes, I did it.

Garrett, what are we
going to do with her?

Well, I don't know
about you, pal,

but I'm gonna give her a great
big hug for cooking up this charade.

And I'm placing you under
arrest for murder, Mr. Havelock,

along with grand theft.

We have found this dagger in a dumpster
on Third Avenue and University Place.

One block from Neville's studio.

I worked late last night

after the auction

writing checks to
creditors, as a matter of fact,

in anticipation of the
fat commission from this.

Then I began thinking about
Diana's behavior and Felix Wesker,

Lawrence Mezznou
and the ridiculous price.

And then your request for
that list of stolen artworks.

There was obviously
more to it than met the eye.

I let myself into the storeroom
and examined the canvas.

And then I realized it was
one of Degas' stretchers.

I was contemplating what to do next,
when the decision was made for me.

I watched from the shadows
as Angus stole the painting.

When he left, I came back in
here, grabbed my letter opener

and followed him to his studio.

Those three
generations of tradition,

they were a formidable
burden, Jessica.

It was the only way
I could see to keep

Greylight Auction
Galleries from going under.

Well, nobody's perfect.

Reggie, I know how the board feels,
but I really am more convinced than ever

that there's something about this
journal that is just not quite right.

Mmm-hmm. Well, the fact that Felix
Wesker used dead people to bid on it

does raise a few more questions.

At any rate, for the moment,
I really do recommend

that the Museum should stop payment
on the check until we sort this thing out.

MAN ON TV: only
a few years earlier.

Ellis Island was
finally closed in 1924.

But today, restored and
re-opened as a national monument,

Americans have the
opportunity to once again...

1924. That's it!

That's what's wrong. Of course.

He described his
visit to Ellis Island.

And the immigrants' faces.

And the place had already
been closed for two years.

Hmm. Well, I can't
wait to get home.

At least with the Chicago
crooks and con men,

you can tell the good
guys from the bad guys.

Not always, Charlie.