Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 2, Episode 1 - Widow, Weep for Me - full transcript

Jessica masquerades as a wealthy widow at a luxurious tropical hotel in order to trap a murderer.

[Woman] Tonight on
Murder, She Wrote.

[Woman Screams]

all of this gaudyjewelry
makes you a target for the thief?

Hey!

Who are you? What are
you doing on this island?

Mrs. Eric Brahm, at
your service, world.

And so she decides that she's gonna
kill all of his mistresses, one by one.

My loyalty stops
at two dead bodies.

Went to the old buzzard's
funeral four years ago.

We are dealing with
a professional thief,

who kills his victims
to keep them quiet.



No. The robbery was a
cover for another motive.

[Screams]

Good morning, madame.
Welcome to the Brittany Bay.

Thank you, young man.
Will you see to my luggage?

It consists of five
matched pieces, unmarked.

Please see that I leave with
them in the same condition.

Yes, madame.

Mrs. Marguerite Canfield,
Lincoln, Nebraska.

Oh, yes, Mrs. Canfield.

My wire specified your
largest and finest suite.

I'm afraid, madame, that the
King Louis is already occupied,

but I'm sure you'll find the
Bonaparte quite acceptable.

Young woman, I have never found
that little Corsican even barely tolerable.

Mrs. Canfield?



So nice to have
you at the Brittany.

Myrna Montclair. I'm
delighted to meet you.

Have we met? No.

I've seen you somewhere before.

Perhaps the movies—
My previous career.

Well, I rarely
attend the cinema.

Perhaps I've seen your face staring
at me from some magazine cover.

Well, I do hope
you enjoy your stay.

I'm sure I will, Miss Montclair,
or it will be a short one.

[Woman's Voice]
"Jessica, I'm in trouble.

"Desperately needyour
help and advice.

"I sense a terrible danger,
but I can't leave the island.

"Will explain when you arrive.

Antoinette."

Madame Fletcher.

It is Madame Fletcher, isn't it?

I don't know who you
are, sir, but my name is...

My name is Chief Inspector
Claude Rensselaer, Island Police.

We spoke on the phone.

Oh, yes. I believe I warned
you not to come here.

Well, madame, not
only do you appear,

but you come dressed in a
manner that can only invite trouble.

Inspector, Antoinette Farnsworth
was a very dear friend of mine.

Her last act, before she
was brutally murdered,

was to write a letter to
me, asking for my help.

Now, I do not intend
to ignore that request.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

Madame Fletcher, I truly
understand your feelings.

Do you? You didn't
know her, Inspector.

We were like sisters until her
husband died five years ago, and then...

She tried to lose herself
in travel and parties,

love affairs... and drink.

And now she's
dead— Killed by a thief.

But the letter— the one that you asked
me to read to you over the telephone...

That indicated
something different.

Madame Fletcher, we had a similar
incident no less than two weeks ago.

Same forced entry, the
early hours of the morning.

Man dressed in black.

But this time the victim
was lucky— She screamed,

not only saving her jewels,
but saving her life as well.

I'm sorry, I— I cannot
accept the idea...

that Antoinette's
death was that simple.

Madame, you are
being doubly foolish.

Now, it's no secret that she wrote
you a letter shortly before she died,

and that fact might put you
into a great deal of danger.

It would
endangerJessica Fletcher.

- That's why I registered
as Marguerite Canfield.
- The famous recluse.

Madame, do you realize
thatyour assumed identity...

and all of this gaudyjewelry
makes you a target for the thief?

Well, I most certainly hope so.

Exactly what have you found out?

Hey, we have no physical evidence,
and those who knew her best...

all have alibis.

Who did know her best?

Well, over the past few weeks, she had
been seen with a half a dozen gentlemen,

some young and
some not so young.

Yes, I understand.

But we are very curious about
Mr. Eric Brahm, the hotel manager.

A charming ladies' man. He
was very attentive to the victim.

But then again, that may
not mean anything at all,

because he was very attentive to all
the unattached females in the hotel.

There is another young woman from
the United States— a schoolteacher.

I think her name
is Veronica Harrold.

Vingt-deux, noir.

Ah, Mrs. Canfield.

I am delighted to
meet you at last.

Eric Brahm, at your service.

Perhaps you'd do me the honor
ofjoining me later for a cocktail.

A hotel can be so lonely
for a woman unattached.

Well, ask me later, after I've had
a fling at your wheel. [Chuckles]

Oh, yes—and I only
drink Rothschild '61.

If you don't have
it, Mr. Brahm, get it.

[Speaking French]

Four, black. Quatre, noir.

Place your bets. Cinq, rouge.

- What's running?
- Not my luck, honey.

That little ball and me have developed
a deep-seated animosity for one another.

[Both Laughing]

You just arrive at this
paradise? This afternoon.

Oh. Stay away from the crab
cakes unless you have a strong liver.

Alva Crane. Maggie Canfield.

[Beeping] Whoops.
That's pill time.

Oh, uh, Pierre? Send in
that boy in the tight pants.

I need a glass of water.

Yep, blood pressure.
Oh, nothing serious.

My—Oh. My doctor was sure it
would kill me before I was 60.

Went to the old buzzard's
funeral four years ago.

Hell ofan affair. All of
his patients were there.

Thanks, sonny.

[Laughing] Hello!

Hello! Hi.

How's 17 doing?

Hiding out, as I
recall. [Laughs]

Let's go, darling. Don't
waste your money.

But 17 is the number
on my classroom door.

It's the third door on the
right, just past the cafeteria.

Custis Road Elementary
School in Davenport, Iowa.

[Giggles] "Good
morning, Miss Harrold."

"Good morning, children."

- Seventeen, on the nose, Mr. Croupier.
- Champagne.

Vingt-deux, noir.
Twenty-two, black.

Twenty-two? Darn.

Oh, well. Just one— I
think it's bedtime, darling.

[Sighs]

Is this a hunk?

I mean, can you imagine
this beautiful man with me?

[Giggles, Sighs]

Ladies, eat your hearts out.

[Giggles]

My apologies. Have
a good evening.

Come on.

You know, I never
cared for tall men, but

for him I could make
an exception. [Chuckles]

Excuse me.

- Mrs. Canfield?
- Yes.

- Michael Haggerty.
- Have we been introduced, Mr. Haggerty?

I believe I just
accomplished that formality.

Would you join me for a drink? The view
from the terrace is beautiful this evening.

Grab that invitation,
Maggie. I've been waiting

for this Irishman to hit
on me for two weeks.

A tragic error on my part,
Mrs. Crane. Perhaps tomorrow?

- Mrs. Canfield?
- Cash me in.

It's been many years since I've
been picked up, Mr. Haggerty.

Michael, remember?
And you're Maggie.

It's a pity you're
so shy. [Chuckles]

God cursed me with a
natural gift of the gab...

and an unnatural
interest in my fellow man.

Now, you, for example.

A handsome woman
by any standard,

and yet it's well known you've
kept yourself hidden away for years.

You're not by chance a reporter?
You mean work for a living?

No, no, no, no. Life's too short to
endure the drudgery of steady employment.

Oh.

- A man of independent means.
- In a manner of speaking.

The British police suspected
a few of the lads and I...

liberated the Bank of
England ofa million pounds,

and I'd be the last one
to disagree with such a

distinguished body as
the British constabulary.

[Laughing]

That handsome young man
with the American schoolteacher...

Sven Torvald.

I've seen him before.
Indeed you have, Maggie.

A few years back, he won two
Olympic gold medals for skiing.

These days, he's, uh,

pretty much a part of
the international jet set,

but there was a time when he
could fly down a slope like the wind.

[Chuckles] But what is this now,

you walking in the moonlight
with the likes of me...

and talking about a young
stud fifteen years myjunior.

If I was interested
in Sven Torvald,

believe me, he would be here
now instead of you. [Laughs]

I know what I want,
Mr. Haggerty, and I get it.

That sounds like a challenge.

[Chuckles] Did you know...

There are some lovely
waterfalls a few miles from here.

The moon is high,
the breeze is gentle,

and my car is
parked right out front.

I suppose you can be trusted?

Not in the least.

[Chuckling] Hey!

Hey, you!

Watch where
you're going, mister!

You bloody fool,
you let him get away.

Hey, you bumped into me.

Michael, are you all right?
I'm fine, but I'm afraid this idiot...

let that fella get
away with your purse.

It was an accident,
pal. [Jessica] Was it?

Well, I'm sorry. I've been
watching you all evening...

Watching you watching
me— And I'd like to know why.

Sheldon Greenberg,
Mrs. Canfield.

Hotel Security. Ah.

And I've been watching you because I
thought something like this might happen.

You'd better explain that.

Look, it's my business
to check out new guests,

especially the ones
that are dumb enough...

Excuse me, ma'am— to wear
that kind ofjewelry out in plain sight.

I mean, it's an invitation to trouble,
and we've had plenty of that lately.

All I can say is, you're lucky
something worse didn't happen.

Now, ifyou'll excuse me,

I gotta report
this to the police.

[Jessica] Inspector
Rensselaer? It'sJessica Fletcher.

Is there anything wrong, madame?
No, no, no. I'm fine, believe me.

I'm calling to find out if the
house detective, Mr. Greenberg,

reported the theft of my purse.

No, he didn't, but I thought
you told me everything was fine.

Well, you asked about my
well-being, not about my purse.

What do you know
about this Mr. Greenberg?

Well, enough to know that
his credentials check out.

He's been a New York City policeman
for over 20 years with a good record.

Why do you ask?
Oh, nagging suspicion.

I'll let you know. Oh, thanks so much,
Inspector. You will excuse me. Bye.

Madame Fletcher?
Madame Fletcher?

[Jessica] Hello!

Oh, good morning.

I see that you're
an exercise buff too.

We met last night. I'm
Marguerite Canfield.

I remember, sort of.

Sven said I made a
terrible fool of myself.

Oh, not at all.
Look, I am bushed.

Shall we go and have a
nice cold drink together?

I was afraid you'd never ask.

Oh! Another vacation like this one
and I'm gonna be totally out ofshape.

All I do is eat.

May I help you ladies?

Um, I'd like a
lemon frosty, please.

Oh, that's not even civilized.

We'll have two iced
teas, please, with lemon.

No sugar or chemicals. Good
for the blood. Very invigorating.

Oh. I'm not cut out
for this fancy lifestyle.

Give me Davenport any day.

Oh, yes, the Custis Road
Elementary School, right?

Oh, dear. I did get windy.

Next time I win one of these
so-called trips of a lifetime,

I think I'm just gonna say no.

You won this trip? How exciting.

Some supermarket giveaway.

To tell you the truth, I don't
even remember entering.

Thank you. That's
very nice for you.

And your, uh— Well,
whoever he is. Mmm.

Sven?

No, I just met him here.

Nope. This prize was
a vacation for one.

Did you ever hear of
anything so crazy? For one.

I almost didn't come.

But I'm awfully glad I did.

[Chuckling] Folks here
have been real friendly.

Especially that
French lady, Antoinette.

She was a doll. What a
terrible thing to happen.

Yes. She was the one who, uh...

You know, she came up
to me on my first day here.

Made me feel a part
of the place right away.

How very nice of her.

Mmm. It was kind of strange though.
It was sort of like she singled me out.

I don't know.

Maybe she was alone too.

We sure did get along though.

Can't say the same
for her and Sven.

Oh, gosh. There she
is. Now there is a star.

And she is so beautiful.

Oh, yes, Miss
Montclair. Do you know...

that when I was 15 years old, I sat
through The Sin ofAndrea Crown six times.

- Gosh, did I cry.
- I'm afraid I'm not much of a moviegoer.

Oh, you must have
seen this movie.

It's the one where she plays this
woman whose husband is cheating on her,

so she decides that she's gonna
kill all of his mistresses, one by one.

- Hi, princess.
- Hi, Sven.

How was the tennis?
The courts were booked...

all morning. Ah.

Do you remember Mrs.
Canfield, from last night?

Good morning. Good morning.

Look, I've reserved a
boat down at the marina.

I thought we might
do a little scuba diving.

[Veronica] Oh, I'd love to.

It was awfully nice
to talk to you again.

- I'll talk to you later.
- Oh, absolutely.

Oh, thanks for the tea.

I took the liberty of
checking your credentials.

Strangely,

there is no Michael
Haggerty of Dublin, Ireland...

associated with the whiskey
importing business. Really?

Which puts me in a
most distressing position,

since you've run up a casino
obligation of more than £10,000...

on what are obviously
false credentials.

Perhaps you'd care
to explain. Perhaps not.

My real name and
occupation are immaterial,

and the fact that I prefer to
invent alternate identities...

is a quirk of my personality.

I trust this will ease your
misgivings, Mr. Brahm.

Draw on it as you like. I
trust your bookkeeping.

Thank you, Mr., uh, Haggerty.

[No Audible Dialogue]

[Knocking] [Whirring]
Yeah, come in.

Oh, Mrs. Canfield, good
morning. Good morning.

- Have a seat.
- Thank you.

[Chuckles] It's crazy.

You know, they tell me a five-year-old
can perform magic on a computer.

Guess I should hire a
kindergarten kid to work this thing.

Mr. Greenberg, I'm
curious. Have you or the

local authorities managed
to recover my purse?

Funnyyou should ask. I was
just getting ready to callyou.

I spent a couple hours this
morning scouring the grounds.

It's full of cash, so
I guess it's all here.

How convenient—
Especially as I just saw

you chatting with the
young man who took it.

Now, before I call
Mr. Brahm, the manager,

suppose you tell
me what is going on.

It's a coincidence. I was gonna
ask you the same question.

J.B. Fletcher.

Who'dyou think you were
dealing with, some dummy?

Well, if you knew who I
was, why take my purse?

Because I wasn't 100% certain.
Because I wanted to look at your passport.

Mr. Greenberg, there is a logical
explanation for my presence.

Yes, and I know what it is.

You got a letter from
Antoinette Farnsworth.

I heard that from
the desk clerk.

So you decided to come
down here, see if you

could scrounge up some
stuff for your next book.

Or maybe you just decided to come down
here and make Shelly Greenberg look bad.

This is ridiculous. I
don't even know you.

I know I don't have J.B.
Fletcher's reputation,

and maybe I wasn't exactly a
detective on the New York police,

but in 20 years, even as a desk
sergeant, you learn a few things.

Mr. Greenberg—Sheldon...

Believe me, I did not come
here to embarrass anyone.

I'm quite sure, left to your own
devices, you'll get to the bottom of this.

Yeah. Anyone can see
thatyou're a bright, perceptive man,

I mean, a fascinating
personality.

Why, I can even see you...

inspiring a character
in my next book.

No kidding.

I just gotta say, Mrs.
Fletcher, I mean...

Your books, I mean, uh,
they're okay. I've read 'em all.

So, if there's anything
I can do to help—

Thank you, Sheldon.
That's a very kind offer.

[Intercom Buzzing] Yes?

[Woman] Mrs.
Canfield on line one, sir.

Oh, I'll take it.

Madame Fletcher. [Jessica]
I think we should talk.

All right. I'll come
and pick you up.

No. Let me meet you—someplace
where we won't be seen together.

I know a place near Turtle
Bay that overlooks the ocean.

I'll be there, say, 30 minutes.

Well, where was I?

"Expect to see you on
the evening of the third."

Yes. Uh, my regards
to your beautiful wife.

Oh, Eric, darling, I simply have to
talk to you about Sheikh Hassani Faud.

I'm terribly sorry, dear, but this is
an absolutely disastrous situation.

Give us a minute,
will you, Grace?

That dreadful man has arrived
with six wives, four dozen children,

and the chefjust
received a special menu.

Now, what was that all about?

I wanted to see you. The
sheikh was a good excuse.

Myrna. Eric, I'm
worried about you.

This morning you looked
absolutely dreadful.

Marriage is supposed
to rejuvenate you.

Prudence, my garrulous wife.

This office just may be
bugged by the home office.

Who cares? I want to
shout it from the rooftops.

"Mrs. Eric Brahm, at
your service, world."

Well, one of these days
we'll shout it together,

but as of now, uh-uh. I know.

Company policy. Do
you know what I say?

To hell with company policy.

Why don't we just
quit? And live on what?

Give me time. It won't be long.

Another few months
at the most, I promise.

Taxi, madame? Yes, please.

Mrs. Canfield, morning.

Good morning, Mr. Haggerty.

I'm just out for a little spin.
Can I drop you somewhere?

Thanks, no. I'll take
a cab. Oh, come on.

It's no trouble. Hop in.

Very well. Let me
help you, madame.

Thank you.

I'm headed for the Turtle
Bay Overlook. Do you know it?

I do.

[Haggerty] Am I
driving too fast?

I'll let you know, Mr. Haggerty.

Uh, shouldn't we
have turned there?

If it's a view you're
looking for, I know a

grand spot even the
locals haven't found yet.

Mr. Haggerty,
please stop this car.

Might not be a good
idea, Mrs. Canfield.

We're being followed.

A temporary situation.

[Tires Screeching]

[Tires Screeching]

Come on. Stretch your legs.

Thanks. I'll wait here until you're
ready to drive me to Turtle Bay.

You know, ma'am, I worry
about you. A wealthy widow.

This island may not be safe.

That sounds
vaguely like a threat.

[Chuckles] A
threat, is it? No, no.

More like a warning...

from a concerned friend.

May I assume that you were also
a friend to Antoinette Farnsworth?

We talked a few times. She was
a neurotic woman, twice divorced.

Like you, she
flaunted her wealth.

May I correct you, Mr. Haggerty?

I understand from the papers
that she was married only once.

There was an earlier marriage to a
young, struggling Greenwich Village poet.

Technically, I suppose you're correct.
Her father paid for it to be annulled.

Hmm. You seem well
informed about her past.

Particularly since Antoinette's
first marriage to Leon Savitch...

was a secret that she
shared with no one.

Leon Savitch? Interesting
you should know his name.

Tell me, ma'am, just
who the hell are you?

You know perfectly well
who I am, Mr. Haggerty.

I had the pleasure of
meeting Marguerite Canfield

before she became the
world's most notable recluse,

and unless you've grown five
inches in the intervening time,

you are most definitely not her.

Now. Who are you?

What are you
doing on this island?

Mrs. Fletcher,
are you all right?

Oh, yes. I'm fine.

Fletcher?

Sergeant D'arcy. Will you please
come with me at once, ma'am?

The inspector wants
to see you at the hotel.

Why? What's happened? There's
been another murder, ma'am.

I want you to check with
the household personnel.

Find out if anyone suspicious
was observed on this floor...

both last night
and this morning.

Inspector? Oh, that's all right.

Madame Fletcher, I must apologize
for not keeping our rendezvous.

No apology needed. Luckily
Sergeant D'arcy caught up with me.

Mr. Haggerty did a masterful job
of losing him. Luck was not a factor.

I took the precaution of
having one of my men put a

homing device in Haggerty's
car before you drove off.

Of course. The doorman.

Well, let's keep that
our own little secret.

By the way, madame, as I told you,
this is a very dangerous business.

Madame Crane, she was murdered
in the early hours of the morning.

I would say about 6:00,
give or take one or two hours.

The lock to the balcony was forced.
She was stabbed here in the bed.

The room was ransacked,
and her jewelry stolen.

Now, there is no
question in my mind...

that we are dealing
with a professional thief,

who kills his victims
to keep them quiet.

I'm sorry, but I disagree.
Madame Fletcher, please.

Inspector, I am now more than convinced
that the motive was not simple robbery.

I was at the roulette
table with her last night,

and she was dripping
with jewels, all right,

but they were all fakes—
And very good fakes...

But if I could spot them, an experienced
jewel thief could not be fooled by them.

No. The robbery was a
cover for another motive.

If the jewels were
fake— Oh, they were.

Which means she either wore the
duplicates to keep the real ones safe,

or, despite outward appearances,

Alva Crane had reallyvery
little that was worth stealing.

That is an interesting notion.

Suppose we check that out.

The key to her hotel
safe-deposit box.

Passport.

Airline ticket.

Envelope with about a
thousand American currency.

But no jewelry.

The problem is, you got fakes
on the mind, Mrs. Fletcher.

Like that stuff you been
wearing—glass. Spotted it right away.

Madame Crane's jewelry...

- You are certain it was genuine?
- It looked real to me.

Mr. Greenberg, earlier you said that
you were working on a theory of your own.

Maybe you'd share that with us.

I been thinking about
what you said about Brahm.

- Your employer?
- Hey, my loyalty stops at two dead bodies.

One person connects these
three robberies, and it's him.

He was all the time
sucking up to these women.

All three? You're sure?
It's myjob to be sure.

And another thing.

He was always trying to hustle
money— Calling this guy and that guy,

trying to put together a scheme
to make himself a bundle.

And of that, I am also sure.

Well, Mr. Greenberg,

that is a very
interesting theory,

but do remember that
this is a police investigation.

And yours truly is hotel security—
Which makes me a player.

Yeah. Mr. Brahm?

Mrs. Canfield, good afternoon.

Oh, sorry. I should
say Mrs. Fletcher.

Ah. You know.

As of now, everyone knows.
Well, do, please, forgive me.

I do so dislike
deceiving people.

Actually, it was probably
a wise precaution.

Never mind. I'm delighted to
know you no matter what your name.

[Laughs]

I understand you're
assisting the police.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

Inspector Rensselaer
doesn't need any help from me.

However, I am
curious about one thing.

Very puzzling.

I'm sure that Mrs. Crane
was wearing paste jewels,

and it occurred to me that perhaps
her financial circumstances...

weren't quite what they seemed.

Are you asking me was
she financially embarrassed?

Well, it wouldn't be the first
time that an older woman...

had been forced to sell her jewels
to maintain a facade of wealth.

[Laughs] Mrs. Fletcher, you
have a fiendish imagination,

but I can assure you, Alva
Crane was more than solvent.

Her security holdings
are worth millions.

And not only that,
her checks were good.

You will excuse me.

- You looking for these?
- How did you get in here?

Another of my talents...

best left unexplained,
Mrs. Jessica Fletcher.

You know, I'm a bit
annoyed with you.

Well, that's nothing compared to
what I feel for you, Mr. Haggerty.

You gave me a very
nasty scare earlier today.

Now I feel merely angry.

But no longer frightened?

That makes you either
very brave or very foolish.

Why were you hiding these
letters from Antoinette Farnsworth?

They weren't hidden.
They're my property.

And now I'd like to ask you a
question, Mr. Haggerty. Who are you?

And how did you know Antoinette
Farnsworth? That, madame, is my business.

You'll understand if I make it
Inspector Rensselaer's business.

I didn't know her. I knew
of her through her father.

Eduoard Martine.

As you know, one of the foremost
vintners in France and a very wealthy man.

Let me emphasize
the word "very."

You know, I don't think this
is an appropriate place to talk.

It was Eduoard Martine who
arranged for the annulment...

of his daughter's marriage
to the poet Leon Savitch.

What I'm about to tell you
now, you may already know.

If not, you must promise to
keep it completely confidential.

But I can't promise that...

Not with two unsolved murders.

[Sighs] All right, then.

A child was born to Antoinette
Martine six months after the annulment.

The old man was furious.

He refused to recognize the issue
of a marriage that never existed,

and he warned Antoinette that
he would cut her off without a sou...

unless she put the
child up for adoption.

I did not know that.

She was terrified of the old
man in those days, so she agreed.

Now the old fellow's got the hot breath
of his Maker warming the back of his neck.

He's looking for a way
to atone for past sins.

Which means he's not only
seeking the forgiveness of Antoinette,

but also the grandchild that he
shut out of his life 28 years ago.

And that would be
Veronica Harrold.

Very good, Mrs. Fletcher.

Well, it did seem strange
that a young teacher...

should win a trip to this island in a
contest she doesn't remember entering,

and then suddenly being befriended
by a woman that she hardly knew.

The contest prize
was the old man's idea.

He is dying, but he still
has his wits about him.

How long have
you worked for him?

Off and on for
ten years or more.

Various assignments that required
discretion or involved some risk.

[Chuckles] Like robbing
the Bank of England?

[Chuckles] You may
well laugh, ma'am,

but I actually had to do that once, some
years back by order of the Prime Minister.

I was attached to MI5.

British Intelligence. You
really are a man of surprises.

Michael...

Michael, is it now?
Have we come that far?

Michael, did Veronica indicate to
you that she knew about her roots?

No. Her father had sworn
Antoinette to secrecy.

But what do you suggest?

That she knew, and
that she killed her own

mother to inherit
Eduoard Martine's fortune?

No, but...

We must go to
the marina at once.

Why? What is it? I'll
explain on the way.

Have you read these letters?

Well, I skimmed over them, yes.

Several of them were
mailed from Alpine ski resorts.

Just the sort of place
that Antoinette might

have met a handsome
young man like Sven.

What? Now, listen to this.

"I've just met the most
delightful young man.

"We've been seeing
each other every night,

"sharing secrets, and shutting
out the rest of the world.

"Don't ask his name, because if I told
you, you really would think me crazy.

Just wish your old pal luck."

Sorry. I don't follow.
But don't you see...

If they were sharing secrets, she
might have told that young man...

Maybe in a drunken moment...

About her daughter.

Well, possibly, but— And if,
somehow, Sven had discovered...

Veronica's true identity,
that would explain how...

a handsome, young,
international playboy would

suddenly become
attracted romantically...

to a very simple, young,
Iowa schoolteacher,

even though they'd only
met two weeks previously.

No. Antoinette would
have put a stop to it.

Not without revealing who she really
was. Oh, and there's something else.

Veronica told me that Antoinette and
Sven were always baiting each other.

And finally, Michael,
her last letter.

I mean, she desperately
needed my help and advice.

But she couldn't get off the
island. I think we now know why.

By God, Jessica,
I think you're right.

But she's in no danger.
Torvald's got no reason to kill her.

Perhaps something worse.

[Horn Honks]

[Boat Horn Honks]

There she is.

[Veronica] Hi!
Mrs. Canfield, hi!

How was your outing?

Oh, it was absolutely terrific.

Oh, I guess it's not gonna
be a secret much longer.

Sven and I are gonna get married
first thing tomorrow morning.

I see. Something worse, indeed.

Isn't it great?

For us both, darling. I'm
a very lucky man. Mmm.

And are you by chance planning
to honeymoon in St. Moritz?

It does seem appropriate, Mr. Torvald,
consideringyou spent so much time there...

with Antoinette Farnsworth.

What are you saying? No,
that's not true. Theyjust...

We're saying we're sure the
Swiss authorities will turn up...

a relationship between
you and Mrs. Farnsworth...

that was considerably
more than casual.

That being the case, boy-o,

the wedding will have
to wait till after you've

had a chat with the
police about a murder.

Hey!

- Sven?
- [Coughing]

Okay, yes, I knew
Antoinette Farnsworth.

We met in Europe.

But I meet many people.

The gentleman here seems to think
your relationship was more than casual.

Well, this gentleman is wrong.

I suggest you be as
candid as possible.

All right. I knew her... well.

And she told you
about her daughter.

It slipped out one night
while she was drunk...

Feeling sorry for herself.

Back then she didn't even know
Veronica— where she was, who she was.

[Sighs]

Then I ran into Antoinette
here again on the island.

I saw her with Veronica.

I put it together.
I confronted her.

She denied it, but I
knew she was lying.

And so you pursued
the daughter knowing that

one day she would be
the heir to a huge fortune.

A man seizes his opportunities
where he finds them.

Madame Farnsworth could not
have liked that too much. Gentlemen.

I'm sorry to
disappoint you, but...

I did not kill her.

Even though by her death, Veronica
became heir to the Martine fortune?

Believe what you like.
I'm telling you the truth.

My mother? [Sniffles]

She was really my mother? Yes.

[Sobs]

I don't know which
hurts more about this...

The fact that we had
so little time together,

or the fact that Sven was only
after this fortune I might inherit.

I loved him.

I know that he can
be very charming.

I'm so sorry.

Yeah. So am I.

Mrs. Fletcher...

Wait. There's one thing
about these killings...

I mean, I know
that you all think...

that Sven pretended
to be a jewel thief...

to hide the fact that his real
motive was to murder Antoinette,

but you know,
that's not possible.

Oh?

No. The first attempt—
The one that failed...

That happened the
day after I got here.

But Sven didn't show
up until two days later.

He was in California when
that first woman was robbed.

You were right.

His entryvisa is stamped three
days after the first robbery attempt.

Could have told you it wasn't him. I know
who killed these women, Mrs. Fletcher.

- Oh, you mean Mr.— - Ix-nay.

It's our secret, remember?

Now, take this key
back to your boyfriend.

Tell him not to sweat it.

The cops are chasing
down the wrong alley.

Thank you, Mr. Barnes.

You'll have our complete
cooperation. Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.

If I'm interrupting,
I— No, not at all.

This is Mr. Barnes, from
the insurance company.

Mrs. Fletcher. How do
you do, Mrs. Fletcher?

You're here about
Alva Crane's jewels?

When 800,000 is involved, the
company does like to be sure.

About Torvald's room...

As soon as the authorities
issue the warrant,

you may proceed with
your search. Thanks.

A pleasure meeting you,
Mrs. Fletcher. Thank you.

I'm afraid you won't find anything
in Sven Torvald's room. Oh?

Well, his passport puts him in California
at the time of the first robbery attempt.

I see.

And if it wasn't
Torvald, then who?

Me, perhaps, Mrs. Fletcher?

You might as well know that I've
decided to fire Sheldon Greenberg.

Not only is he a total incompetent, but I'm
well aware of his accusations against me.

He makes one good
point, Mr. Brahm.

You were attentive
to all three ladies.

Because that is myjob.

Wouldyou like a verification of
his innocence, Mrs. Fletcher?

I've had about all I can
stomach of that petty little man...

and his snide insinuations.

Eric had nothing to
do with those murders.

Myrna, be quiet.

So you can be crucified
on a cross of innuendo?

My God, the whispers can
be heard clear to the States.

What time was Mrs.
Crane killed this morning?

The police believe it
was just before daybreak.

At which time, this gentleman was
sharing both my bed and my affections.

Myrna, don't be a fool. Stay out of
this. If you're shocked, Mrs. Fletcher...

Oh, I'm not. Eric is not
trying to protect my reputation.

It doesn't need it. We've
been married for nearly a year.

And the company be damned.
I don't care who knows it.

Well, my congratulations
to you both... belatedly.

Oh, I can't wait to get
away from this place.

Which may now be
sooner than we'd planned.

Eric's been trying to
put something together

for months— a hotel
on the Mexican Riviera.

The only thing holding it up is
money. The key to everything.

Isn't it always?

Oh, yes. Yes, it is.

- Mrs. Fletcher?
- I'm so sorry. I must go and call
Inspector Rensselaer.

We are telling you the truth.

Oh, I'm quite sure you are.

And I wish you both
many years of happiness.

Mr. Greenberg?

Guess you heard, huh?

Looks like the bear
got me before I got him.

This is mine. I paid for
it with my own money.

Mr. Greenberg, the case against
Mr. Brahm isn't quite closed.

There is one question
that I have to ask.

Did he by any chance have a master
key to these safe-deposit boxes?

No way. I got the
only one right here.

Never leaves my sight—
Which reminds me.

Just what I thought. Huh?

It wasn't Eric Brahm or
Myrna that killed those women.

Nor was it Sven Torvald
or Veronica Harrold.

In fact, Veronica's inheritance
wasn't even the motive.

Hmm? What was the motive?

Greed, Mr. Greenberg—
Plain, old-fashioned greed.

What the hell are
you talking about?

Oh, I think you know
what I'm talking about.

Theft—the theft of over a
million dollars in gems...

by a man who spent the past couple
ofyears watching others live the good life.

Being close to it,
but never a part of it.

Well, if that's an accusation,

you're crazy.

Alva Crane owned nearly a
million dollars' worth ofjewels.

They were insured.

The company investigator
was here earlier to file a report.

I met him. So what?

Well, it means that
Alva's jewels were real,

not fake. Yeah, I
already told you that.

Yes, but the jewels I saw
her wearing were paste,

so she must have kept the
others elsewhere for safekeeping.

And where else but
here in your office?

Lady, when we opened the
box, there were no jewels.

Because you'd already
taken them. You killed her.

Took her safe-deposit
key, opened the box,

and after you removed the jewels,
you returned the key to her room.

I suppose you think
you can prove all that.

Yes, I think so.

You see, at the roulette table,

I noticed that Alva kept her
safe-deposit key in a small change purse...

inside her handbag.

Yet, when her body was discovered,
the key was out of her purse,

lying on the
dresser in plain sight.

Someone had used it.

And since you didn't
mention that fact,

the user must have
been you, Mr. Greenberg,

because no one could have
gotten into the box without your key,

which, as you just pointed out,
you kept with you at all times.

I'll say this. You've got
one hell of an imagination.

[Haggerty] It's more than
imagination, Mr. Greenberg.

Based on Mrs. Fletcher's deductions,
the authorities have obtained...

a search warrant, and
went through your luggage.

Even though these beauties have
been removed from their setting,

I doubt we'll have
any difficulty identifying

them as having
belonged to Alva Crane...

and Antoinette Farnsworth.

I really wouldn't do that if I
were you, Mr. Greenberg.

A million bucks. Thanks, lady.

I could have lived like a king.

Oh, gosh, Mrs. Fletcher.
I'm so nervous. Don't be.

Michael tells me that your grandfather
has mellowed like a good wine.

And even if he hasn't, who
needs $40 million anyway?

[All Laughing]

I like your spirit.

I don't suppose Mr. Torvald
is going to be tagging along.

Sven?

Thank you for everything.

Now, keep in touch. I
really want to hear from you.

I promise I will.

Might I hope for the
same sort of good-bye?

You might. [Laughs]

Ah.

Well, now, what's this I've always
heard about crusty New Englanders?

Oh, it's just a rumor started by our
forefathers to keep out the tourists.

I see.

And if someday I should
show up on your doorstep?

An exception might be made.

Well, in that case, Jessica,

the question is no
longer whether, but when.