Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 2, Episode 14 - Keep the Home Fries Burning - full transcript

- Is there a doctor here?
- I'm a doctor. What's wrong?

Doctor, my son is
terribly sick. Come quick.

[Woman] Tonight
on Murder She Wrote.

- What did you put in that food?
- It was murder.

I may be a lousy cook,
but I never killed anybody.

My job is bad food, not murder.

Why don't you just stick us with one
of your needles and get it over with?

You walk out on me to-to
work in this kind of a tourist trap?

This state should
have sheriff I.Q. tests.

Of course. Excuse me. Pardon me.

She really shouldn't spend
so much time in this town.



[Fly Buzzing]

[Chuckles] Sheriff.

Bo. Nice seeing you.
Uh, where you been?

I, uh, haven't seen you
for breakfast anymore.

[Chuckles]

Uh, where you on your
way to in such a hurry?

Joshua Peabody Inn,
up by the interstate.

You too? Now, what's that place
got that Dixon's Diner ain't got?

History. Be seein' you, Bo.

History!

- [Seth] Breakfast time.
- But I've had breakfast.

Ha. I know what you had—
Dry toast and a cup of tea.

That's mere food.

This is an experience! [Sighs]



Seth. I have got work to do.
Well, you can write about this.

It's not your basic
fast-food shed, you know.

Let me put it to
you another way—

This is Amos Tupper's
favorite dining place.

Oh, dear. [Chuckling]

- Dupree!
- Ow!

Where is that ham
and eggs for five?

Oh, terrific! Now we can serve
ham and eggs à la Transylvania!

That's not too bad. Put a bandage on
it and take the rest of the morning off.

Oh, yes, yes. Take the morning off.
The afternoon! Why not the whole week?

One less cook to spoil the pot.

Is it my fault that you
can't cook a decent

breakfast? You call
this a decent breakfast?

A bowl of Sugar Crackliest?
We give the folks what they want.

Oh! What the hell are you doing with
that? You said you wanted me to cook.

Cinnamon on a cheese omelet?
What'll it be next, rat poison?

If you don't like it, fire me!

Now, why on earth would
you want to stop at this place?

Oh, lighten up, Willy. We can't
wait till Boston to use the ladies'.

Well, the plumbing's bound to be better
than the food. Now, why do you think that?

I don't know if I like the
looks of this one either.

Sweetheart, we're
running late. It's either

this place or that diner
we passed back in town.

Well, Hawthorne. I
didn't think you'd show up.

Oh? Why not Ebeneezer?

First, you promised
to support my bill,

then you engineer its defeat,

then you make me the
laughingstock of the town council.

Why did you show up?

Well, a man's got
to eat, doesn't he?

[Chuckles] Um,
after you, Ebeneezer.

Didn't know so many folks
ate breakfast out in Cabot Cove.

Most of them seem to have been
tempted in from the highway. Yeah.

Those ladies over there certainly aren't
from around here, not in those ensembles.

That's Italian suede.
What's the matter with that?

Oh, absolutely nothing.

The One-If-By-Land,
Two-If-By-Sea Surf and Turf Platter?

[Laughing] Oh.
Wait, wait, wait, wait.

Here is my favorite. The Benjamin
Franklin-Furter with Beans.

Hi, miladies. I'm your serving girl
this morning. May I take your order?

Well, uh—the uh, Eggs
Benedict Arnold sound good.

Would you like that with
popovers or corn muffins?

Oh, I really shouldn't.

We have homemade marmalade
and strawberry preserves.

I'll take both. And
don't you say a word.

I would like something light.

Give me the Life, Liberty and
Prosciutto Happiness With Melon.

Thank you.

Mind if I join you,
Mrs. Fletcher, Doc?

Oh, not at all, Amos. Sit
down. Plenty of room. Belly up.

Yeah. Floyd's kind
of short on tables.

Thanks to good customers
like Sheriff Tupper.

Yeah, old Joshua Peabody'd
be mighty proud of this.

Amos, as I have repeatedly told
you, there isn't any Joshua Peabody.

He's just a local legend.
What are you talking about?

His picture's all
over the place!

Uh, what's the E.T.A.
on my wife's toast?

The, uh—The E.T.A., sir?

Estimated time of arrival. Oh.

Where is the toast? Have
you looked in the toaster?

Look, Dupree, if you
think you can get me sore

enough to let you out of
the contract, it won't work.

No?

My goodness, Cornelia. I didn't
know you'd left Dixon's Diner.

All my customers started coming here,
so I thought I might as well join them.

At least in the diner you didn't
have to dress up as Betsy Ross.

Doctors who make
their rounds in hip boots...

hardly qualify as
fashion experts.

[Laughing Continues]

[Man] Could you
bring us the check?

I'll be right back.

[Man] We'll miss the E. T.A. in
Boston. [Woman] Will you relax?

This is supposed to be a vacation. What
I wouldn't give to be back in the office.

Guess what. They
don't have bathrooms.

They have Adams rooms.

You get a choice—
The John or the Abigail.

[Woman Cackling]

Well, well. Benedict Arnold.
With popovers or corn muffins?

No, no, I didn't mean
that. I meant you... traitor.

You walk out on me to-to
work in this kind of a tourist trap?

I've got to go where
the tips are. Oh.

Would you like to order now?

Cornelia, would you just
bring me a hamburger, please?

Bangor Burger or Salem
Steak? I don't care what you call it!

Just bring it so I can find out what's
so damn special about this place.

Floyd sure gives you enough
to eat. Good prices too.

I don't know how he does it.

Excuse me. You finished
with the preserves?

Oh, oh, go ahead. I'm
watching my weight anyway.

Thank you.

Aren't you going to
have any strawberry

preserves, Amos?
Strawberries give me a rash.

Watching your weight
might not be such a bad idea.

Oh, do you mind, Doc? I'd
like to enjoy my breakfast.

Are you through with this?
Oh, uh, take it away, please.

You're never going
to get away with this,

Hawthorne! You know
what I've got at stake here.

Oh, shh! Don't you...

Don’t you shush me,
Mercer Hawthorne!

All right then. I'll tell
everybody here you're a crook!

Now, you are getting
awfully close to libel.

Libel's when you
can't prove it. I can.

You want to talk
about kickbacks?

Something I can
do for you, friend?

Oh, well...

I, uh—I think Mr. Dixon just wants
to see what a real kitchen looks like.

Right, Bo? I, uh— I
smell something burning.

- Hmm?
- [Sizzling]

Oh, you are trying to put
me out of business. Oh!

- You, uh, need any help?
- Yes. Help yourself out of my kitchen.

Are you finished with this? Yes.

Waitress, may I have the check?

I can't let you do that,
Jess. This was my idea.

No, no. I insist.

You might have won
at chess last night if you

hadn't had to leave to
deliver Mrs. Olson's baby.

That is a dead-bang certainty, but
it's got nothing to do with this check.

Say, is Amos's feast on there?

Mine's on the house.

Well, bein' the sheriff
and all, it's customary.

Ready? Stuffed.

Oh, and this is what you serve
instead of mustard and relish?

It's been a busy morning. And that's
supposed to make me feel better?

Mustard, relish,
Cornelia. Go, go, go.

Oh, ma'am? You
forgot to sign this.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Thank you. Now,
will that be cash?

Yes. You do
accept it, don't you?

Betty, I want to leave
that nice waitress a tip.

I'll meet you at the car.

- Is there a doctor here?
- [Man] What? What'd he say?

I'm a doctor. What's wrong? Doctor,
my son is terribly sick! Come quick!

[Gasping]

Are you feeling all right?
I'm not sure. I think so.

He's feverish, and
his pupils are dilated.

Hey, Doc? Hey, Doc!

Doc! Yes!

[Coughing]

- It's the same symptoms.
- Hey, Doc!

Yes!

What's going on?

Get everybody out.
Get everybody out!

Don't touch anything, don't move
anything, don't clean anything.

Just close it up right now!

Seth, what is it? I don't know.

We've got to get these
people to a county hospital

and then notify the
State Health Department.

Yes. I've never
seen anything like it.

What did you put in that food?

[Screams, Crying]

She's dead.

[Crying Continues]

[Siren Wailing]

[Seth] Wait, excuse me, who?

Mercer, don't be concerned. I know
everything is going to be all right.

I'll be by to check you later.
Margo Perry, State Health.

Ah, yes. Go ahead.

Well, you certainly got
here quickly. Chopper.

Is there someplace quiet
where you can fill us in?

Us? The state. What
about that office?

Look, I do have some patients to attend
to, Miss Perry, and it seems to me...

It's "Mrs.," Doctor.

And you can tend to them best by
getting me as quickly to work as possible.

Oh, all-all right.

Jessica, Amos, would
you, uh, come with me?

You must be the sheriff. That's
right, ma'am. Amos Tupper.

And you are? Jessica Fletcher.

Doctor? Uh, no. Writer.

Good. We're gonna
need the media's help.

Well, I'm a mystery
writer, I'm afraid. Purpose?

Mrs. Fletcher was
in the restaurant.

She's the most
observant person I know.

Well, what are we
waiting for? The door?

Oh.

I'm running the usual tests.

The symptoms are
closest to those of botulism,

but botulism takes
anywhere from 12 to 36 hours.

I'm aware of its
gestation period.

[Chuckles] Baffling.

You seem pleased.

Oh, I'm always pleased, Mrs. Fletcher,
when I might be on to something new.

Half the time, we never do discover
what we're dealing with anyway.

So any additional
challenge is. um, enticing.

Well, now, the first step is to have
everyone who's been exposed...

report for tests.

- Sheriff, you'll alert the media?
- The media, ma'am?

Oh! You mean Phil
up the radio station?

Don't you have a
TV station? Lots.

Oh, none of them local.

What's the name
of this town again?

Ham. Check.

I had some of that.

Syrup. Uh, check.

- I had some of that.
- Marmalade.

- Yo.
- I had some of that too.

You had some of
everything, Amos.

Uh, Mrs. Perry, there's
only one jar here.

The others seem
to have two. Floyd?

Mrs. Fletcher, I'm interested in
what's here, not what's not here.

Be sure you get enough for
two sets, and send one to H.Q.

Floyd.

Floyd, do you remember
who was sitting at that table?

No, I don't. I expect
Cornelia would know.

[Margo] Waffles. Uh, we
get those from the franchiser.

Amos, are you feeling all
right? Hmm? Oh, yes, ma'am.

Great. Never better. Oh, good.

Would you mind driving me back
to the hospital then? My pleasure.

Thanks.

5:00 to 7:00. And
I'll get her to take...

Seth, there's something that I need. Uh,
oh, Jessica, Amos, I'm so glad to see you.

I have to examine everyone
who was at the inn today.

Even if we don't exhibit the
symptoms? Just to be on the safe side.

Now, chances are,
if you'd had a dose of

this, why, you would
have collapsed long ago.

You know what they say,
Doc— "Better safe than sorry."

Uh, excuse me. My wife, Wilhemina
Fraser? I just learned she's ill.

Mr. Fraser? Yes.

I'm Dr. Hazlitt. Oh, I-I drove down
from Portland as soon as I heard.

Oh, I don't want you to worry.
Your wife has had a mild case.

She's a little bit uncomfortable,
but she's going to be okay.

Well, that's a relief.
May I see her?

Yes, but before that I think
perhaps I'd better tell you something.

Uh, excuse me, sir. Your Rolls-Royce
is blocking the ambulance entrance.

Here.

Your wife's friend,
Miss, uh, Fiddler— Yes?

I'm afraid she didn't make it.

What?

You mean she— Yeah.

Oh, my God. Uh,
now— Uh, Jessica.

Oh, God. Sit down, please.

Betty. Oh, Betty.

Mr. Fraser, I'm so very
sorry about your friend.

Yes. Yes, of course.
Thank you. Thank you.

Perhaps you'd like
to see your wife.

She's still in a state of shock
over the death of her friend.

Of course I would.

Ah. Wh-Where is she?

I'll take you to her room.

Seth, Seth. Something
is bothering me.

Jess, you feeling poorly?
Oh, no, no. I'm feeling fine.

Look, but isn't it
medically possible that

someone could have
planted the poison in the food?

Sure, if they had access
to a culture and the

wherewithal to transport
it. Why do you ask?

Well, but if the poison wasn't
found in anything in the restaurant,

I mean, isn't it logical to assume
that it could have been in something...

that was taken out
of the restaurant?

Maybe so. It's a possibility. Of course,
there are a lot of other possibilities too.

[Chuckling] Oh, really!

Why, Mrs. Perry, I didn't
realize you were with us.

We were just, uh, speculating.

Perhaps running tests might be a more
effective use of your time, Dr. Hazlitt,

instead of developing useless
speculations with a crisis hound.

A what?

Oh, there's one in
every town, Mrs. Fletcher.

Some amateur who
gloms on to a crisis...

and tries to turn an incident that has
a perfectly normal scientific solution...

into a Byzantine plot.

Now, just-just hold your horses!

You haven't found
that other jar anywhere?

Not even in the
garbage. Is it important?

Well, I'm not sure.

Floyd, do you have any enemies?

Just my chef who
doesn't want to cook.

No, I mean someone capable
of doing something like this...

to destroy you.

Only my chef who
doesn't want to cook.

- Well, does he have a key?
- Oh, yes, yes.

He gets in early
to prep breakfast.

I couldn't help but overhear
something about a contract.

Mm-hmm. Yes, you see, I paid
his way over here from France,

and in return he agreed to
work here for three years.

Hell, I thought he was French.

You mean, you brought him over here
without knowing anything about him?

Well, I knew this much— He
comes from a famous family of chefs.

His grandfather ran the
Vin Rouge in Cannes,

and his father practically
invented nouvelle cuisine.

Well, that's a very
impressive pedigree.

But how did you ever get
him to agree to cook here?

I mean, in America?

Well, it happens he was born in
Pittsburgh. He wanted to get back.

Now that I've paid his way,
he's trying to get me to fire him.

See, that's the only way
he can get out of his contract.

- [Phone Rings]
- Excuse me.

Joshua Peabody Inn.

Oh, oh, sure. Yes, Doc.

Yes. You want to
talk to her. All right.

That was Doc Hazlitt. He
wants you over at the hospital.

Oh, great.

[Seth] I think I know
what the poison is.

It's strictly from
symptomatic observation.

Well, that's just what's been
gnawing at me— the symptoms.

These people have been
getting sick much too quickly.

They're all flushed
and delirious.

None of this jibes
with botulism...

or any other food poisoning
I have ever run across.

- That doesn't necessarily mean—
- What about you, Mrs. Perry?

Negative. Then I remembered a
line they taught us at med school.

"Red as a beet,
mad as a hatter."

These are the symptoms...
of atropine poisoning.

Atropine? Isn't that
like belladonna?

Yeah. Quick, nasty.

And it can look a heck
of a lot like botulism.

- Then it's still bad?
- Deadly.

[Margo] This is all speculation.

There's no real way to know until the
tests on the food samples are complete.

Maybe yes, maybe no.

I have some of the
antidote, physostigmine.

Now, if my patients respond to that, then
we will have learned something, won't we?

Of course.

Not necessarily.

Oh, come on. Mrs.
Perry, get off your badge.

It cannot hurt anyone, and it
might save some of those people...

who otherwise might not make
it if we wait around for the tests.

Uh,

I'd like to volunteer
to try it out, Doc,

just to set an example
for the community.

- That's brave of you, Amos.
- You know what this means, Seth.

If I'm right, you're right.

I'm afraid I don't
follow you, Doctor.

Atropine would have had
to be deliberately planted.

Then it isn't food poisoning.

It's-It's poison in the
food, and that means...

It was murder.

Amos, you don't
really need this shot.

You have none of the symptoms.

I never said I did.

Course, I do have
this ringing in my ears.

Expect they just
need cleaning out.

There's a funny feeling
at the pit of my stomach.

Your pit must be packed
after that breakfast.

- Oh, yeah, but, Doc— -
Why, Amos, you're very brave.

All day you thought you'd been
poisoned, and you never said a word.

Well, be thankful you're
allergic to strawberries.

How's that? Ah!

The one thing we know
for sure that's missing

from the inn is a jar of
strawberry preserves.

Do-Do you have any idea
who might have taken it?

No, but I think I know
someone who might know.

Cornelia, it must be very
unsettling, changing jobs so rapidly.

Nah. I'm just glad
to be working at all.

I didn't know if Mr. Dixon
would hire me back.

Cornelia, at the inn there was
a table with a single setting...

The customer ordered a
hamburger, but didn't eat it all.

Do you remember who that
was? No way I could forget.

- It was Mr. Dixon.
- That's odd.

- Why did he order preserves?
- No, he didn't. It was my mistake.

I brought it to him
instead of the pickle relish.

He looked like he wanted to fire
me, only it wasn't his restaurant.

Well, I guess Mrs. Fairley's strawberry
preserves don't go with everything.

I don't know.
People just love 'em.

The jar that you put on his
table— Was it, uh, fairly low?

I was just about to refill it when
Mr. O'Connor ran in for Doc Hazlitt.

- Oh, then it was you
who took it off the table?
- No, ma'am. I forgot.

With everything going
on, you understand.

You know, Mrs. Fletcher,
sometimes Bo isn't so bad.

He rushed right out to
see what he could do,

left his whole meal
practically untouched.

Didn't take his
jacket or anything.

Cornelia, what is this, a
hen party here or what, huh?

[Weak Chuckle] I
did say “sometimes."

[Amos] Bo Dixon! Of course!

Amos, stop jumping
to conclusions.

You're talking to the world's
record holder in conclusion jumping.

Well, it adds up, doesn't it?

Bo was boiling because Floyd Nelson
opened up the Joshua Peabody Inn...

and took away
all of his business.

Now, what better way to get even
than by putting something in the food?

Well, first of all, we
have no proof that the

jar of strawberry jam
contained the poison.

Second, Cornelia
said that Bo left the

restaurant and did not
take anything with him.

And third, that the jar
of strawberry preserves...

arrived at Bo's table after
everybody was poisoned.

There's your answer— Cornelia.

Answer? What's the question?

Who better had the
opportunity of passing that

jar of preserves to
everybody who got sick?

Cornelia? Sure.
They were in cahoots.

Why, some of that poison
could have been meant for me.

Oh, not you, Amos.

Well, I-I did lead most
of Bo's customers away.

Not on purpose, of course.

But, well, you know
what they say...

"As Sheriff Tupper goes,
so goes Cabot Cove."

- Who says that?
- Everybody, when it comes to food.

I must be traveling
in the wrong circles.

I don't recall hearing
that. [Snickering]

Amos, wait.

Look, as long as we're
playing "Who would

want to make the Joshua
Peabody Inn look bad,"

the chef is doing everything possible
to get out of his contract with Floyd.

And the best way would
be— To close the inn for good!

So now I've got two suspects.

Three, if you want
to count Cornelia.

I know who did
it, and I know why.

Why, Mercer! How nice
to see you up and about.

I won't be vertical for long if the
sheriff doesn't arrest Eb McEnery.

Oh, now, Merce. You two
fellas have been into it for years.

Not this time.

I told him I had a—a photostat
of a $10,000 kickback...

that he got from a
thieving Portland contractor.

You mean, the one who's always
underbidding your brother-in-law?

Right as rain. And not 10
minutes later, I was sick as a dog.

You didn't have any of those
strawberry preserves this morning?

I sure did, but McEnery didn't.

Is that how he slipped it
to me— In the preserves?

Uh, excuse me, please.

Mrs. Fraser, how much
strawberry preserves did you have?

I don't know. A little.

And Betty?

Gobs, I'm afraid.

I kept telling her she
shouldn't eat so many sweets.

That squares with
their relative symptoms.

Well, this should cheer
you up, Mrs. Fraser.

If you keep responding this
well, you'll be out of here tonight.

Oh, thank you, Doctor.

That's wonderful,
isn't it, darling?

- Harrison?
- What?

Oh, yes. Wonderful.

Preliminary tests show
negative results for all substances.

Ah, what is that in English?

In English? Pfft.

There's nothing toxic in anything
they took from the restaurant.

Well, thank goodness for that.

Floyd will be very relieved.

It also means that the atropine
had to be in that missing jar...

of Mrs. Fairley's preserves,

as our amateur
crisis hound thought.

[Margo] Not necessarily.

It could have been in something
from which there were no leftovers.

Like what? I'm a
scientist, not a waitress.

Well, then let's look
at this scientifically.

I mean, your tests prove that
everything was clean at the restaurant.

But what if somebody
removed our most likely cause?

More speculation.

Can science show
how a jar of preserves...

might get up and
walk out all on its own?

You think you're looking at
this scientifically, but you're not.

There are many
possibilities. Yes?

For example, that single jar of
preserves could have been tainted.

No atropine, no murder.

Yes. I think I'd like to see
that Fairley company's plant.

Well, actually, there
is no plant, exactly.

Just the Widow
Fairley and her kitchen.

Do you mean to tell
me that this town...

allows some old lady...

to sell homemade
food out of her home?

For heaven's sakes,
Mrs. Perry, we've been

enjoying Mrs. Fairley's
preserves for years.

Lucky you. All of you.

Where might I find this
haven of free enterprise?

Surely you're not gonna close her down.
I mean, this is her only form of income.

My concern is
for public welfare.

Well, the trouble with that is
that it, uh, occasionally is done...

at the expense of
the innocent individual.

[Scoffs] That
remains to be seen.

She reminds me of a
drill sergeant I had once.

Seth, I just thought
of something. Hmm?

Am I wrong or did
Mrs. Fairley's nephew...

use to pick up the jams in the morning
and deliver them to the restaurants?

Nephew? Nephew?

Jess, you may be right. Councilman
Ebeneezer McEnery. Right.

Oh, Sheriff, just wait till you're up
for reelection. That's all I've got to say!

You had better be careful when you
order a hamburger at my place again.

Now, listen, boys. I said
listen! I'll tell you that.

Mercer Hawthorne says
you tried to kill him to

prevent him going
public with this kickback.

This was not a kickback.

This was a legitimate repayment of a
loan, and I've got the papers to prove it!

You know, maybe this state
should have sheriff I. Q. tests.

Bo, you yourself said Floyd was
trying to put you out of business.

If I were gonna poison people,

would I shoot my mouth off
to the sheriff? Now, would I?

Uh, well,

you both had motive and
means and opportunity.

- And you can't try both of them.
- [Amos] Mrs. Fletcher.

Easy! Easy!

I have to whip up
soufflés with these wrists.

Okay, both you fellas
can go, for the time being.

What do you mean, time
being? Just don't leave town.

We're not the ones that are gonna be
looking for another job somewhere else.

No, wait. Before you do that, what's the
penalty for taking a poke at the sheriff?

Simmer down now. I just
want to ask you some questions.

I guess you know Mrs.
Fletcher. Intimately.

You know, Mr. Dupree,

my husband and I went to your
grandfather's restaurant once...

and had the most
marvelous dinner.

He made a coulibiac,
and it was heavenly.

Couli-what? Oh,
you must ask him.

- I couldn't do it justice.
- Uh, uh, yes. Uh, coulibiac.

A special dish.
Very, very tricky.

Oh, yes. The béarnaise sauce
has to be just so. Absolutely.

And the veal has to be
very young and tender.

Now, that's the
secret— Tender veal.

No, Mr. Dupree. I'm afraid not.

Coulibiac is served with a butter
sauce and made with salmon.

Well, of course! I
meant to say salmon!

Mrs. Fletcher, are you saying
that this fella here is an impostor?

Oh, no. He's the real Alan
Dupree. He's just not a real chef.

Why? Because I flunked
out of Cordon Bleu...

and-and because then I was fired
by my father and my grandfather,

and-and now the
final ignominy...

To be humiliated by the
Julia Child of Cabot Cove.

Oh, I'm so sorry. That
was not my intention.

Look, I may be a lousy cook,
but I never killed anybody.

The way I hear it, you were pretty
desperate to get out of that contract.

Sure, because I couldn't do the
job. I mean, it was embarrassing.

And you had access to those
preserves before they left the kitchen.

So did a lot of other
people. Floyd, for one.

Oh, doggone it. Floyd?

I can't bring everybody in
town in here as a suspect.

Who else was in the
kitchen, Mr. Dupree?

- Uh, you said there were others.
- The guy who owns the diner.

Bo Dixon! I had a
feeling about him.

Then there was this other
guy. I never saw him before.

He came in the back door, said he
wanted to take a look at the dining room.

- So he took a look.
- At what?

Or whom? Beats me.

He took a look, and
then he split while I was

trying to pick eggshells
out of an omelet.

A mysterious stranger, huh?

I've heard better stories
from a poacher with

a trap in one hand
and a rabbit in the other.

Amos, maybe we were a little too quick
to dismiss Mercer Hawthorne's suggestion.

About Eb McEnery
tryin' to kill him?

No. That the killer's intention
wasn't to discredit the restaurant,

but to kill one particular
person with the preserves.

Sheriff! While I was in the
hospital visiting my wife,

one of your deputies
stuck this ticket on my car.

- That's him.
- That's who?

That's the guy who came
into the kitchen this morning,

the one who was pokin'
around where he didn't belong.

I tell you, that is the guy
who I saw this morning.

You're mistaken,
or you're lying.

Oh, yeah? Arnold!

Show this young
fella to the cooler.

Last thing I need is for someone to
start throwing punches in my office.

You're locking up
the wrong guy, Sheriff!

As I recall, you were in Portland
when you got word about your wife.

That's true.

Uh, Amos, I'm sure there's a
reasonable explanation. Certainly.

For Mr. Fraser managing to be
in two places at the same time.

Suppose we cut
to the bottom line.

It's my word against
his. I have a great deal

of influence in this
part of New England.

Oh, I'm sure you do,

but connections won't help you to evade
a simple answer to a simple question.

We both know, Mr. Fraser,

that you’ve been under
a great deal of stress,

with your wife's illness
and her best friend's murder.

- It's a tragic situation.
- Yes.

Betty was a fine woman.
Wilhemina and I share a great loss.

Yes, I couldn't
help but notice...

that you seemed to take
her death particularly hard.

She was my friend.

Oh, of course. And
Wilhemina is your wife.

And forgive me. I don't
understand how you can

show so little concern
about her close call.

What are you implying?

Well, I'm curious as to
which one of the two women...

you were watching
from the kitchen...

or which one you
were hiding from.

Have you forgotten?

I was in Portland.

I think this will cover
the parking fine.

We don't see many
Rolls-Royces in Cabot Cove.

I'm sure someone
will have noticed it...

at the inn this morning.

[Typing]

[Doorbell Rings]

Mrs. Fletcher, uh, forgive
me if I've caught you at dinner.

Oh, no. I've, uh, already eaten.

I was hoping we could
talk— you and I—without

the large ears of
the law listening in.

- Please come in.
- Thank you.

I'm sure you're right about someone having
seen my car at the inn earlier today.

Your sheriff's probably out rounding
up witnesses even as we speak.

He is very thorough.

But not very imaginative.

No doubt he will place me in that
kitchen, and then having done so,

do something very stupid, as well as
embarrassing, to me and to my wife.

Uh, Mr. Fraser, I'm sure
that you have a point to make.

It's simply this.

Supposing for the moment that I was having
an affair with my wife's best friend.

Would I be likely to
terminate it so abruptly?

And why here, when it could
easily be done in—in Portland?

If you had any idea how
much I loved that woman.

Why did you follow
them, Mr. Fraser?

Betty insisted that I
tell Wilhemina about us.

I didn't think the
timing was right.

When she suggested
this trip to Willy...

Just the two of them,
together like schoolgirls...

I— I panicked.

I had to get to Betty to
warn her to be patient.

Then it was her eye you were
trying to catch from the kitchen.

Yes. I signaled to her, and then she
met me in the corridor by the restrooms.

She told me I was being ridiculous and
that they were having such a good time...

she didn't want to spoil it,

but that if I didn't tell Willy
as soon as they got back,

it would be all over between us.

And then you left?
Yes, by a rear door.

I was halfway home when I heard
the radio report of the food poisoning...

and that there were two women
from Portland among the victims.

And then, uh— Well,
you know the rest.

Mr. Fraser, I suggest you tell
your story to Sheriff Tupper.

I'm afraid that
would be pointless.

If it comes to that, I'll have my
attorney do my talking for me.

You seem a decent woman.

I wanted you to know the truth.

Well, thank you for
sharing it with me.

I'm going to, uh, be picking
my wife up in about an hour.

All I want now is just to put this,
uh, dreadful business behind us.

Good-bye. Good
night, Mr. Fraser.

[Seth] Mm-hmm.
Then you believe him.

Well, frankly, Seth, I
don't know what to believe.

You know, you look very
tired. You ought to go home.

Uh, I'll go home when
my patients are okay.

Oh, by the way, that young
O'Connor kid— gonna be okay.

Oh, good.

You know, I keep wondering—
Are we missing something?

- Something right under our very noses
that should be obvious and isn't.
- Like what?

Well, killing somebody with
poisoned strawberry preserves...

isn't like, well, stabbing
them with a dagger...

or shooting them
point-blank with a pistol.

I mean, it's possible
that the killer missed.

How do you mean?

Well, I mean, supposing...

Supposing that the preserves got
away from him and others got sick.

Now, that could have
been a mistake. Mm-hmm.

And there could have been another
mistake, and the wrong person got killed.

I mean, if that's
so, there may be no

connection between the
killer and Betty Fiddler.

[Jessica] This will only
take a second, Mr. Dixon.

I'm busy.

Yes, but I'm sorry. This
is very, very important.

So is making a living.
Some policemen can't seem

to get that through
their thick heads though.

I am not here to
defend Sheriff Tupper.

Mr. Dixon, when you rushed out of
the inn to help those poison victims,

do you recall who was
still in the dining room?

Nope.

Did you see anyone who could have picked
up the jar of preserves from your table?

Nope. Do you accept credit
cards here in Peyton Place?

Yep. I just love
eating at diners.

No surprises. Everything
is just as you expect it to be.

Well, Mrs. Fletcher, I
guess this is good-bye.

Oh, you're leaving
before the case is solved?

My job is bad food, not murder.

- Thank you, ma'am.
- Thank you.

I wish I could say
it's been a pleasure.

Oh, there you are, my dear.

I left your tip on my
credit card. Oh, thank you.

- Mrs. Perry! What did you say?
- I left her tip on my credit card.

Oh. Of course. Well, isn't
that what most people do?

Excuse me. Pardon me.

She really shouldn't spend
so much time in this town.

[Knocking]

[Mouthing Words]

Oh, been out here
long, Mrs. Fletcher?

Oh, I'm sorry to bother you again,
Floyd, but there's something that I need.

What exactly are
you looking for?

This!

A credit card receipt?

Oh, it's much more than that.

You don't need the antidote.

You have none of the symptoms,
and it's been, what? Ten hours.

Now, you listen. We just
drove 200 miles out of our way.

We messed up our
E.T.A.'s for our entire trip,

and we're not leaving
without those shots.

- How do you feel?
- Carsick.

Did you have any strawberry
preserves this morning?

Uh-huh. We sure did, and we heard on the
radio there's something wrong with them.

So why don't you just stick us with
one of your needles and get it over with?

Oh, but you needn't
worry. You weren't exposed.

Seth, I need you. Huh?

I insist. Thank you for
taking such good care of me.

You're welcome. And thank you.

Ah.

Ready, dear? Well, I
still feel a little shaky.

Oh?

Maybe I should have another
look at you. Oh, no. Really, I'm fine.

Why, Mrs. Fraser, whatever became
of your gorgeous suede purse?

You remember it, Seth?

Uh, now that you mention it.

Correct me if I'm
wrong, Mr. Fraser,

but isn't that your friend
Betty's shoulder bag?

Willy, why are you using it?

Harrison, don't be absurd.

If she can't explain
it, maybe I can.

It all began with a jar of Mrs.
Fairley's strawberry preserves.

[Jessica Continues] It started to
circulate at the table of those tourists,

the ones who fussed about
their toast and the E. T.A. 's.

They both ate some preserves.

Cornelia then brought the
basket to your table, Mrs. Fraser,

where you had a
little of the preserves,

but Betty had quite a
bit, as you yourself told us.

Then Sheriff Tupper asked
Betty if he could have the basket.

He ate a lot of marmalade,
but no preserves.

Cornelia then picked up the basket
and passed it on to the councilman,

and then on to O'Connors,
and finally to Bo Dixon.

And since the tourists didn't get
sick and several of the others did—

The poison had to be
introduced into the preserves...

at Mrs. Fraser's table.

[Jessica] Exactly.

If you're accusing my wife of anything, you
should remember that she became ill too.

To avoid suspicion, she ate a
little of the preserves herself.

But wasn't that
part of the plan?

You knew you and Betty
would stop somewhere

to eat, so you took
the atropine with you.

Something went wrong.
That's what I couldn't figure out.

I finally realized it-it
was Sheriff Tupper.

Amos? Mrs. Fraser wasn't at
her table when he took the basket.

You hadn't counted on the preserves leaving
your table, and you had to get them back.

I heard you tell Betty at the door
that you were going back to the table...

to leave a tip for Cornelia.

But you had already left
her a tip a second earlier...

on your credit card.

You didn't go
back to leave a tip.

I believe you went back to find the
jam jar, to take away the evidence.

You put the jam jar
in your suede purse.

It was the only place you
could have concealed it.

And then when Betty collapsed
outside, Amos handed her purse to you.

May I see your
shoulder bag, please?

No!

Thank you.

You followed the
ambulance in your car.

The jar didn't have a lid.

You must have noticed that the
preserves had spilled into your purse.

[Sniffs]

[Sniffs] Strawberries.

Preserves are terribly difficult to
get out of a suede purse, aren't they?

The road from the inn
passes over Morgan's Creek.

It's shallow this time
of year, isn't it, Seth?

Poor for fishing. The sheriff
could drag it, Mrs. Fraser.

Unless you want to
save him the trouble.

When Betty suggested
this trip, I did my homework.

At least I thought I did.

I was so sure it would
look like botulism.

I didn't mean to make
anyone else sick.

I only wanted to
get Harrison back.

I never realized that he...

Harrison?

Well, I've got some bad
news and some good news.

The bad news is the franchiser
has closed the Joshua Peabody Inn.

But they can't. It's practically
a historical monument.

Well, they're trying to nip any
adverse publicity in the bud.

Oh, Floyd, I am so sorry. But you
said something about good news?

They've given me the franchise
for the Ethan Allen Inn in Vermont.

Wonderful! Congratulations.

Fair name for an inn.

At least we know
Ethan Allen was real.