Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 3, Episode 14 - Murder in a Minor Key - full transcript

What do you want?

[Woman] Tonight on
Murder, She Wrote.

How dare you interrupt my
rehearsal! You know damn well why!

Get that thing away
from my face at once.

You think I killed him?
What for? I needed his music.

- [Crowd] We want justice.
- I'm asking you to stop
this demonstration.

I'm not sure I
could do that, sir.

I've been kissing your pinky
ring for too many years now.

You owe me this!

What did I hear about shots?
Is somebody playing hardball?

Stoneham's widow. She
may have plunked the guy.



- [Crowd Cheering]
- [Door Closing]

Hello. I was just changing into
something more comfortable.

I've got a long night of reading
ahead of me. Galleys on my new book.

I don't know why they
send me these things,

because I am absolutely
the world's worst proofreader.

"Murder in a Minor Key."

[Sighs] Well, at least
they've got the title right.

Oh, it feels so
good to sit down.

You know,

I was on my feet half the day
down at the power company.

Running from one office to the other,
trying to get my last bill sorted out.

Did you ever try to argue with
a computer? It is impossible.

It's like trying to talk
sense to Amos Tupper

once he's made up his
mind about something.



[Laughs] These? Yeah, I
know they're a little bit silly,

but my nephew Grady
gave them to me.

And you know something?
They're really very comfortable.

I mean, I only wear them around the
house where nobody can see them.

Well, let's get
down to business.

You know I'm really very pleased
with this story, the way it's turned out.

It's a neat little puzzle
involving some young students...

at a Southern
California university.

Michael Prentice is a bright,
budding music composer.

And I'm afraid we put
him in trouble right away.

His best friends are a very
soft-spoken, young law student...

from the Deep
South, Chad Singer.

And a rather quirky, young lady from
New York named Jenny Coopersmith.

But I am getting
ahead of myself.

It started out one spring evening
when, as usual, our trio of comrades...

arrived at a favorite campus hangout
for a couple of hours of relaxation.

I am not a fascist,
and I'm not sellin' out.

Mm-hmm. A body that
willingly goes to work...

for Transacom's legal
division is a body for sale.

Second the motion. Well, what am I supposed
to do? Join the public defender's office?

Terrific. Send me your tired,

your poor, your
huddled masses...

your guilty. That is cynical.

And sick. But accurate.

♪ [Piano Up-tempo] [Chattering]

Corporate law. The heart pounds.

Meanwhile, every
day innocent people...

are getting victimized
by the system.

Yeah? Name two. Listen, Mike,
don't talk to me about sellin' out.

Last time I looked, you were sendin'
your songs to Nashville, for God's sakes.

Thank you. Thank you. I thank
you and so does Mr. Porter.

Now how about a change
of pace? Here's something

brand-new. It's called "The
World Belonged To Me."

A friend of mine in New York
sneaked me an advance copy.

I understand it's from an
upcoming Broadway musical.

I like it. And I
hope you will too.

♪ [Piano]

I'm gonna need steady employment
if Jenn and I are gonna get married.

Oh, don't drag me into this.

I am real happy living in sin,
at least for awhile. ♪ [Singing]

Michael?

Michael, what is it?

- That's-that's my music.
- What?

That's my music. I wrote that!

Well, shoot, Mike. It probably only
sounds like— No, no, not sounds like!

Excuse me.

I'm sorry. I was playing
the best I know how.

Would you mind? Please.
It's important. Be my guest.

Here, check me out.

♪ [Playing Same Song]

How am I doin'? You
haven't missed a note.

♪ [Continues]

♪ [Stops]

Mike!

♪ [Classical]

Professor Stoneham!

Mr. Prentice, may I assume that your
rude disruption of these proceedings...

is prompted by some
monumental occurrence.

I wanna know about this!

We'll discuss this in
my office in half an hour.

Meanwhile, will you have the courtesy of
allowing me to continue with my rehearsal?

Ladies and gentlemen,
let's try it again.

♪ [Resumes]

How dare you! How dare
you interrupt my rehearsal!

You know damn well why! Would you
get that thing away from my face at once.

Professor— At once,
do you hear me?

The name Alden Gilbert is
on this music, a piece I wrote.

Coincidence is not uncommon
in musical composition.

We're talking note for
note here, Professor.

Last spring, I handed you four
original themes as my term assignment.

This was one of them. Surely you're
not accusing me of something, Michael.

Those themes belong to me. I
want them back, now. Or what?

Listen to me, my
insolent young friend.

You continue with this
confrontation, and I will see to it...

that your future in music
is limited to organ grinding.

You don't frighten
me, Professor.

I'll see the chancellor—
And tell him what?

And show him what?

Irate college students
who feel they've been

badly treated are a dime
a dozen on every campus.

And anyway, it's your
word against mine.

Oh, I'll find a way,
Professor, somehow.

And if I can't find anybody else
to help me, I'll settle things myself.

Professor, I, uh— That is...

Is there some trouble here, sir?

No, Mr. Papazian.

I believe Mr. Prentice
was just leaving.

Damn!

What the devil is wrong
with you, Christine?

Are you being solicitous,
Tyler, or merely polite?

Surely we're not going to have another
of our discussions, not at this hour.

For the last six years,

all I have ever wanted
was to share your life.

Just to be a small part of it.

Oh, Lord.

And each year, I have
drifted farther away.

These...

These past few months
have been the worst.

Every weekend, you've
gone off to San Diego.

I had business to
conduct. Every weekend?

Why was I never able
to contact you there?

No matter how often I called?

You phoned down
there asking for me?

I specifically told you I
was not to be disturbed.

And I am your wife.

I will not be treated
like one of your students.

I am not a fool.

I see. You suspect me of
some schoolboy infidelity.

[Laughs] Really, Christine.

I should be flattered.
You're mocking me.

Strange, I thought it
was the other way around.

Another woman, is that
what you really think?

[Laughs] Dear child.

There's nothing to
concern yourself with.

A preoccupation with business,
yes, I'll plead guilty to that, but...

I'm afraid anything else is a figment
of your overly suspicious imagination.

[Phone Ringing] ♪
[Humming While Playing]

Hello? Oh. Hi,
Pauline, how are you?

Honey, you remember when I
busted in on you and what's-his-name...

Alden Gilbert? That composer
you were working with?

Yeah. You want a big surprise?

Take a look at this
morning's paper, page 32.

Okay.

[Students Chanting] We
want justice. We want justice.

We want justice.
We want justice.

[Woman On Megaphone] Okay,
okay. Hold it down a second, huh, guys?

We all know why
we're here, right? Yeah!

Well, in case some of you don't,
let me give it to you by the numbers.

Last Friday, the
semi-enlightened...

administrators of this
institution summarily dismissed...

one of the brightest, the best,
and the most dedicated professors—

Mr. Young, is this your doing?
Are you responsible for this?

Well, sir, could be my editorial in the
campus paper helped feed the fire a little.

Well, I suggest
you try to douse it.

The chancellor isn't amused.
No, sir, I'm sure he isn't.

And as vice-chancellor of this university,
I'm asking you to stop this demonstration.

I'm not sure I could do that, sir.
Even if I wanted to, which I don't.

Well, then I'll just have
to have Mr. Hargrove

and his security
force here break it up.

Oh, I'm sure Mr. Hargrove
realizes that that

would not only be
high-handed and illegal,

but dumb as well, sir.

I mean, who wants photos of the
campus police bullying a bunch of kids,

who are merely exercising their
constitutional right of free speech?

[Woman] I don't know
about you, but I think those fat

cats at Transacom need a
good dose of flea powder!

What do you say?

I think if a bunch of us went
over to the chancellor's office—

[Bell Tolling]

[Stoneham] It-It's
impossible to see you tonight.

I suggest breakfast tomorrow
morning, at your hotel.

No, you cannot come
here. I'm-I'm leaving shortly.

I'm merely waiting for
an important phone call.

Yes.

[Woman on Megaphone] Well, he was
gonna look into it the first chance he got!

[Crowd Cheering]

[Sighs]

[Crowd Chanting] Fight
Transacom. Fight Transacom.

Fight Transacom.

Fight Transacom.
Fight Transacom.

[Chanting Continues]

[Applause]

Operator, I'd like you
to try a number for me.

I've tried it several times,
and it may be out of order.

It's area code 619-555-4027.

[Crowd Chanting]

Professor Stoneham!

Mr. Papazian, are you in the habit of
always entering my office without knocking?

Mr. Papazian, you
have been drinking.

I have just been reading...

the galley proofs of your
new music dictionary.

Ah-ah, correction! Our
new music dictionary.

But my name seems to be
conspicuously absent from the title page.

- Harry, dear friend—
- You promised me!

Your contribution has been
duly noted by the powers that be,

and they will, I am sure, strongly
consider you as my replacement,

when I choose to leave...

Depending, of course,
upon my recommendation.

Don't you threaten me, Stoneham.

I've been kissing your pinky
ring for too many years now.

You owe me this! [Slapping Desk]

[Crowd Cheering]

Danny!

Hi. [Man Shouting On Megaphone]

It's a nice turnout. Yeah.
It's the power of the press.

You think it'll help?

I don't know. I already have
the vice-chancellor squirming.

We're recording this, and we're
gonna send him a tape tomorrow.

Oh-ho. Where's Chad?

Home studying. He's
having trouble with his torts.

Oh. You know, I hear they
can cure that these days.

[Door Opens]

Hey! What are you doin’ in here?

All right, son. Hands
where I can see 'em.

And stand real still.

Poor Michael. Fate seemed
to be conspiring against him.

Not only were his musical
compositions missing from the files,

but Professor Stoneham was in no
condition to tell him where they'd gone.

Of course, that was
the least of his troubles.

As soon as the security officer,
Mr. Hargrove, entered the office,

he immediately added two
and two and came up with five.

The police were summoned,
and Michael was herded

off to a jail cell at
police headquarters.

So what are you doin' in here?

You're not gonna tell
me you killed Stoneham?

[Sighs] Me? I'm a
card-carrying pacifist.

Okay, so just tell me
everything that happened.

Wh-Why? Are you gonna
represent me? And get you hung?

No way.

But it's like my Uncle
Jack always said,

findin' a fox in the henhouse
don't necessarily mean nothin',

unless, of course, he's
pickin' feathers out of his teeth.

The security guy, Hargrove, comes
in, catches Mike goin' through the files.

Then he spots Stoneham sprawled
out on the floor dead as a mackerel...

with a tuning fork stuck in
his chest. The same one that...

That Harry Papazian saw him
wavin' at Stoneham the night before.

Right.

You know, I'm just a struggling
would-be social worker,

but it seems to me Harry
Papazian must have killed him.

Papazian claims Stoneham
was alive when he left,

and a polygraph passed
him with flags flying.

Nice. How about a lie
detector for Mike too?

Oh, he got one. The
results were inconclusive.

He flunked? That's
the way the cops see it.

Okay. So why did Mike break in?

He couldn't find any
copies of his music.

To prove it was his,
he needed the originals.

And Stoneham wasn't about to give
'em up, so he figured he had to take it.

Mike didn't kill anyone. And
all we have to do is prove it.

Is that the royal we, or
am I included in this mess?

It was my bright theory the
system always worked, remember?

So who says you're
always so bright?

Where do we start?

Me, campus. You, Broadway.

All right.

Here. No, no, no.

Keep it, keep it, keep it.

[Danny] Are you kidding?
You talked to Prentice? In jail?

What'd he say? He
said he didn't do it.

Hold on, I gotta get a
tape running. Danny, I...

I didn't come here to give you an
interview. I need to look at your files.

And I've got a paper to get
out with the story of the year.

And you, old pal, are my
exclusive. No way. No. No.

- Then no way do you see my files.
- Oh, God.

- Files first.
- Wrong. I've got a deadline. Come on.

Danny, you are gonna
make a great newspaperman.

- It's in your blood. Ice cold.
- Thanks.

Obviously, we must not let Dr. Stoneham's
death be turned into a media circus.

We've had enough trouble
on this campus recently.

I'm just helpin'
out a friend, sir.

I guess I'm the closest
thing he's got to family.

Very admirable, but
have you considered that...

your friend Mr. Prentice
may be guilty as sin. No, sir.

Shoot, there were lots of people on
this campus that hated Dr. Stoneham.

Enough to commit murder? Well, I
guess one motive's as good as another.

I just remembered. Didn't you use
to be real close with Mrs. Stoneham?

Given the context, I
think I resent that question,

Mr. Singer. No, no,
no offense intended, sir.

I-I just happened to be going through
some back issues of the campus newspaper.

I couldn't help but notice that you
and she were somethin' of an item...

before Stoneham popped
up here six years ago.

Christine and I were
friends, nothing more.

After their marriage, I did not
harbor either of them any ill will.

As a matter of fact, I went out of my
way to make Tyler Stoneham feel welcome.

That-That sure was
neighborly of you, sir.

The music building, Mr. Singer.
Professor Papazian's expecting you.

I trust you will not feel the
need to query me again.

Now this is our storage room, where
we keep all our instruments, sheet music.

How about original compositions?

Ah, no. Dr. Stoneham
insisted on keeping all of

that under lock and
key in his private office.

[Phone Ringing] Ah, excuse me.

Yes?

No.

[Laughs] No, this
is not Dr. Stoneham.

No. Ah, I suggest you pick up
a copy of this morning's paper.

The front page. That
will explain everything.

Mm-hmm. Idiot.

Ah, Dr. Stoneham's phone rings
in here as well as in his office.

He used to spend a lot of time
in here noodling on that piano.

Well, I guess that's about it.

You've seen everything
there is to see.

Ah, with the exception
of Dr. Stoneham's office,

which you may have noticed
the police have sealed off.

So, Chancellor Simon tells
me that you're a law student.

Is this some sort of
classroom exercise?

No, sir. I'm just a good
friend of Mike's, that's all. Ah.

Just tryin' to be
his eyes and ears.

I guess all this has put quite a
burden on you, Mr. Papazian.

I mean, as Stoneham's assistant, I
expect you'll be takin' over for him now.

Ah, yes, yes. I-I wish the
circumstances had been different,

but as they say, one must not
only endure, one must overcome.

I wish it had been anyone but
Michael Prentice. He's a fine young man.

Well, you know, sir,
Mike says he didn't do it.

Yes, so I understand.

I'm-I'm afraid, Mr. Singer,
that I was forced in all candor,

to tell the police of the heated argument
I witnessed the night before Tyler died.

Well, now that's real funny.

Mike told me all about the
fight Stoneham had with you...

the night he did die.

Fight? No. It was a
minor argument, that's all.

Well, thanks for
the tour, Professor.

Sure was helpful.

[Jenny] Rhoda, hey, thanks.
No, this is great, really.

Yeah. You're kidding! When?

She didn't.

Well, she's crazy.
You know something?

If Jerome wants to live
in Jersey, so big deal.

I mean, Jersey's not
all Hoboken, you know.

L-L-Listen, Rhoda,
I gotta go. Yeah.

Thanks again, and
tell Shelly she's a doll.

Is this lady a
detective or what?

- You got somethin'?
- From my girlfriend Rhoda,

who was best friends at CCNY
with a certain Sheila Abramowitz,

who happens to be the
sister of Deirdre Abramowitz,

who just happens to work
for the Broadway producer...

Who just happens to be puttin' on a musical
with words and music by Alden Gilbert.

Ooh. Sharp, Chad, sharp.

Show's named Blue Lights.
The guy's name is Max Hellinger.

He used to be Gilbert's
agent. Darlin', you are a jewel.

You got a number
on this Hellinger?

Um, yeah, but save your nickel.

Hellinger's been out of town for three
days, not expected back until Monday.

Whereabouts unknown.

Hellinger's secretary, she have a
number on file for Alden Gilbert?

Nope. Gilbert always called
Hellinger, never the other way around.

But Gilbert's
definitely a local.

Contracts, checks, everything
went to a P.O. box in Westwood.

Weird, huh? Maybe not.

Not if you're tryin'
to lead a double life.

Come again? Don't you
get it, Jenn? Alden Gilbert?

Professor Tyler Stoneham?
One and the same.

Thing is, who knew it and more
importantly, who stood to gain by it?

Hello. Yes?

Mrs. Stoneham? I'm Chad Singer.
Y-You'll forgive the intrusion, ma'am.

I-I'm a good friend
of Michael Prentice.

Yes. Come in.

Please. Thank you.

Tyler and Michael used to
work together here quite often.

His best student
in years, he said.

Well, at-at least they
used to work together here.

Lately, Tyler was away so much,

I barely saw
Michael. Away where?

San Diego. School business.

And the night...

The night he died, ma'am...

Did you see your
husband, talk to him?

I called his office.

He told me he was
waiting for Harry Papazian...

to drop off the galley
proofs of his new book,

and then he'd be right home.

I told him we could have
a late supper together.

- About what time was this?
- Um...

I was watching television,

some comedy show
that started at 9:30.

[Sighs] I watch
a lot of television.

It must have been about half over when
I made the call at the commercial break.

So I suppose that
would put it at about 9:45.

That was the last time
I ever heard his voice.

Later, when the policeman
came to the door, I—

I thought it was Tyler,
that he'd forgotten his key.

Yes, ma'am.

[Sobs]

- Are you married, Mr. Singer?
- No, I'm not, but I hope to be.

As soon as I pass the bar.

It's not a step to
be taken lightly.

These days,

people don't seem to care
very much about commitment.

Ah, ma'am,

did your husband ever mention
the name Alden Gilbert to you?

No, I don't believe so.

- Max Hellinger?
- No.

Well, I thank you
very much, ma'am.

You've been more
than hospitable.

And not very much
help, I'm afraid.

Wow, your husband must
have been a very wealthy man.

I mean, from a wealthy family.

I don't know of too many
professors who live like this.

Tyler never confided
in me about finances.

I suppose that's
something I'll have to learn.

Yes, ma'am. Bye.

A strange visit.

- I wonder what he wanted.
- I'm not sure.

You know, for a minute I got the
feeling he thought I'd killed Tyler.

So Augustine Simon claims he and
Christine Stoneham were just friends.

Well, then why was he
hiding in the other room,

when Chad questioned the bereaved
widow about the identity of Alden Gilbert?

If you ask me, it was
hanky-panky of the highest order.

Meanwhile, back on campus,

the assistant music
chairman, Harry

Papazian, was receiving
some very good news.

Yes, sir, thank you.

And, uh, please convey my thanks
to the board for this appointment.

I can assure you that
Professor Stoneham's

high standards shall be
continued in every way.

Thank you.

[Clunking]

I beg your pardon.
May I help you?

You never know, pal. I'm looking
for something that belongs to me.

[Laughs] Well, I seriously doubt
that you'll find it in here, Mr., ah...

Max Hellinger. Tyler Stoneham
and I had a business relationship.

These are his
files, aren't they?

School files. It's
the same thing.

He owed me a couple of songs
he'd composed. I need them now.

Tyler a composer?
That's ridiculous.

The man didn't have an
original bone in his body.

You know not whereof you speak,
pal. By the way, who the hell are you?

Harry Papazian, assistant— Ah,
former assistant head to the department.

You are now running the store?
Good. I have a proposition for you.

Ah, excuse me,
ah, Mr. Hellinger?

Two pieces of music,
both ballads. Look for

the name of Alden
Gilbert as the composer.

You find 'em for me, it's
worth five big ones. What?

What, you have a hearing
problem? $5000 for two songs,

in 48 hours in my hands, okay?

Well, if the songs exist, I'll certainly
do my best to locate them for you.

You bet you will,
baby. [Chuckling]

You had no right
to print that story.

We're a newspaper, Mr. Parnell.
Check the sign on the door.

I am trying to save Prentice
from the gas chamber,

and you're trying to
get an "A" in journalism?

Hey, Chad. Come here a sec.

Fella here's got a
problem with your interview.

You're Singer? That's me.

I've been looking for you. I'm-I'm
Ray Parnell, public defender's office.

And if you don't want to screw
up your friend's life permanently,

I suggest you learn to
keep your mouth shut.

Sir, I'm just trying to
help. You listen to me.

Your friend has one chance of getting
free, and that's temporary insanity.

What do you— Have you
talked to him? He didn't do it.

So he tells me. And I sure
would like to believe him.

But what I believe and what
you believe, that doesn't count.

What counts is what
I can sell to a jury.

♪ [Michael's Song]

Hi.

I'm sorry I got hung
up. I brought in a pizza.

You eat. I popped a button
on my jeans this morning.

I'm fasting till Yom Kippur.

Don't stop. I like that.

Yeah? Yeah, it really grabs me.

♪ [Michael's Song]

Makes me kinda wonder
who wrote the lyrics.

[Laughs] It sure
wasn't Tyler Stoneham.

Well, I guess it was
Mike. Ha! Are you kidding?

I took American Lit with Mike. He
could barely understand Edgar Guest.

Hot dang! Lyrics!

Stoneham not only ripped off the melody,
but he got somebody to put words to it.

But who?

Don't look at me. After
June and moon, I'm lost.

Darlin', I got a
job for you. Uh-oh.

The last few months, Stoneham's been
spendin' a lot of time south of the city.

Maybe San Diego.

619 area code. Are you
still friendly with that, ah,

what's-her-name in the business
office? Marsha? Sure, but...

Tomorrow morning, first
thing. I want you to get Marsha

to check all the outgoing
toll calls on Stoneham's line.

Everything with a 619 prefix. Maybe we can
put a phone number to a name and address.

Oh, come on, Chad. Well,
you wanna help, don't you?

Not for me, hon. For Mike.

Persuade me, cowboy.

The things I put up
with for my friends.

Oh.

Who's there?

Who are you? What do you want?

[Christine Screams]

[Chad] Uh-huh. I got that.

She heard this guy
stumblin' around when?

4:00 in the morning? Is
she sure it was a man?

Listen, Danny, the
shots, did she hit the guy?

All right. Look, I'll
call you later at the

newspaper office.
Anything you learn I want it.

I'll talk to you
later, good buddy.

Do you know what time it is?

Yes, ma'am. Time for you to hustle
your bustle over to your friend Marsha's.

One of Danny Young's
newspaper reporters was

monitoring police
calls early this morning,

some kind of a C. B. freak.

Somebody broke into the Stoneham house last
night, probably lookin' for Mike's music.

Wh-What did I hear about shots?
Is somebody playing hardball?

Stoneham's widow. She
may have plunked the guy.

They found blood
outside. Oh, terrific!

She didn't shoot at me, hon. Come
on, chop, chop. I need that 619 number.

[Chad] Ah, excuse me,
Professor Papazian?

May I help you, Mr. Singer?
Professor, you got a minute?

Actually, I'm very busy this
morning. Well, this won't take long.

I just wanted to set things straight
about that fight you had with Dr. Stoneham.

It was a discussion,
Mr. Singer, not a fight.

Well, that's not the
way Michael tells it.

Yes, well, if I were in jail
facing a murder charge,

I, too, would be spreading suspicion
in as many directions as I could.

Well, I apologize, Professor.

I guess it's just a
case of friendship

gettin’ in the way of my
better judgment. Mmm.

Looks like mice
got at this seal.

- What?
- This seal.

The door to Dr. Stoneham's
office. Seems to be peelin' off.

[Sighs] I'm afraid, Mr. Singer,

that my patience with your
amateur sleuthing is exhausted.

As is I'm sure, everyone else's.

Now will you please leave, or
will I be forced to call security.

Oh, gosh, sir. I don't mean
to make a pest of myself.

I really do apologize for
any misunderstanding.

Yes, well, that's quite all
right, Mr. Singer. [Groans]

Oh, I'm sorry. Is there something
wrong with your arm, Professor?

No, it's all right. You know,

I couldn't help but notice the way you
were holdin' that valise out there, and...

and the way you opened the door.

I thought you might
be hurt or somethin'.

Maybe you oughta, have a
doctor look at it. No, no, it's all right.

Well, ah, let me give
you a hand with that.

You know, Professor,

Mrs. Stoneham shot an
intruder in her house last night.

Yep, she surely did.

You know, I'll just bet...

it was somebody searchin'
for some sheet music.

What do you think?

Yes.

I think you're probably right.

I was looking for some songs that
Tyler was supposed to have written.

A man named Max Hellinger,
a Broadway producer,

offered me a great deal of
money if I could deliver them.

No questions asked, of course.

They weren't— No. No,
I looked everywhere.

I suspect he stashed
them in a safe deposit box.

This man, Hellinger, do you
know where I can find him?

Well, I imagine he's gone
to see Michael Prentice.

When he called this morning
and I told him I couldn't help him,

he said his only other
possibility was in jail.

Mr. Hellinger? Yeah,
I'm Max Hellinger.

Who are you? I'm a good
friend of Michael Prentice.

I was wondering if
I might talk to you...

about the unpublished
works of Alden Gilbert.

Thank you, Jim.

It's a nice place.
It'll be a parking lot in

one month. Well,
things pick up after 6:00.

They'd better.
Okay, let's talk music.

How about first if we talk
about Tyler Stoneham?

Excuse me, Alden Gilbert.

I didn't come here to
shoot the bull with you, pal.

Since the cops still wouldn't let
me talk to Prentice, you'll have to do.

Do you have the songs or don't
you? Tyler Stoneham was killed...

just before 10:00
p.m. two nights ago.

Two nights ago, I was in New
York City. Get back to the music.

Two nights ago, your plane
landed at L.A.X. at 6:05.

A friend of a friend checked
the passenger manifests.

You think I killed him?
What for? I needed his music.

Maybe he was holdin' out on you. Maybe
he was hittin' you up for more money.

Maybe. Maybe you need something stronger
to drink than that beer you're nursing.

Look, I knew Tyler for ten
years. He used to feed me stuff.

Dreck, mostly. Then he
comes along with Blue Lights.

First-class material. Primo.

But even I could figure out he didn't
become another Sondheim overnight.

Okay, so you got in at 6:00. And then what?
You went to see Stoneham at the school?

Wrong, sonny. I
called him. What time?

Around half past
9:00, at his office.

He said he was gonna leave as
soon as he got some phone call.

We made a breakfast date. I showed
up. He didn't. Then I caught the news.

Let's get back to those
two songs. I haven't got 'em.

Wait a minute, you said— And as far
as I know, neither does anybody else.

The only one that can deliver those songs
to you, Mr. Hellinger, is Michael Prentice.

If you think of anything
that'll help get him out from

under this investigation, I
suggest you talk to the police.

Otherwise, I'm afraid
your show's gonna be

openin' up on Broadway
minus a couple of ballads.

Okay, so where's my medal?

You said you wanted a lyricist.

You got a lyricist. Say
hi to Reagan Miller.

Writing partner of the late
and not-so-great Alden Gilbert.

Hi.

When Miss Coopersmith phoned
me, asking about Alden Gilbert, I, ah...

I didn't quite know what to say.

Sounded to me like she dropped the
phone. That's when I knew I hit the exacta.

Quite honestly, I really didn't wanna
talk about Alden, or Dr. Stoneham...

or whatever his real name was.

The man lied to
me, he deceived me.

Cheated you?

Yes, I suppose you
could say that too.

Look, I didn't care
about the money,

the only thing that I
wanted was recognition

for my work, but he
took credit for everything.

The music, the words. I
mean, they were my words.

I just can't believe
all this is happening.

[Sighs] Okay, you say you went to
the college the night he was killed.

Yeah, but I didn't
kill him. I mean...

The fact is, I never
even saw the man.

I couldn't find his office, and all of a
sudden there were these policemen...

coming out from all
different directions.

I think it was shortly
after 10:00. I just left.

That's terrific. Everyone but the
pope is at the college that night,

and Michael's the one they
find standin' over the body.

Forgive me, I'm-I'm
O.D'ing on frustration here.

Ah, if you'll excuse me,
I have to get back home.

There's something
that I wrote for television

and I forgot to set
my tape machine.

No kidding. You wrote for TV?

Yeah. Just a jingle
for a real estate

commercial. Not Broadway,
but it pays the rent.

Um, look, I think it
starts at quarter of 7:00.

If I rush, I can just make it.

Well, thank you for coming.

And if and when we
ever get Michael out of jail,

we'll have to put the
two of you together.

You'd make a great
combo. I'll look forward to it.

Good night, Chad.

Oh, he gets like that.

Okay.

What's with the face?

So, do I get first
prize or what?

Darlin', you're not
gonna believe this,

but I think I just figured out
which fox got in the henhouse.

Well, how about you? Have you
figured out who killed the good doctor?

Well, you can't be
hurting for suspects.

Heaven knows there were plenty of
people with motive... and opportunity.

But if you've been
paying attention,

there's one particular clue that
should pinpoint the guilty party.

See if you can come up with
the same answer that Chad did.

This had better be
good, Mr. Singer.

I didn't let you organize this
little charade to be made a fool of.

No, I wouldn't do that,
sir. You can count on it.

You know the drill. I
mean, lots of noise.

Hey, you're gonna get all
the d.b.'s you can handle.

All right, Reagan,
everybody. Yeah.

I want you to do and say
whatever you did the other night.

I didn't do or say
anything. Then do it again.

[Chanting On Tape] [Chiming]

Ah, Singer, this is
Lt. Perkins. How are...

Just so's you understand, son,
I'm not real keen on parlor tricks.

Only reason I'm here is 'cause
the school asked us to cooperate.

Well, I appreciate
that, sir. How ya doin'?

Holding up. All right.

Um, I don't know what I'm doing
here. I was nowhere near this place.

Well, I know— Nor
was I, Mr. Singer.

I know. I need you both to
help re-create what happened.

Look, one thing you'd
better understand.

I'm not letting the
suspect out of my sight.

Right. I want you hangin'
on him like wallpaper.

Where he goes, you go. Come on.

Mr. Papazian, glad
you could make it.

Yes, Mr. Singer. As I told you,
I am delighted to cooperate.

All right. Mr. Hellinger,

Mrs. Stoneham, if you'd just
stand here by the telephone.

Mr. Parnell, you'll be
playing Mr. Stoneham,

so if you'll just come with me.

Step into the office. And
you know the instructions?

I know what I'm supposed to do.

There we go. All
right, Mr. Hellinger,

if you will place a call to the office
like you did the night of the murder,

Mr. Parnell will
answer it. 555-8974.

Start the watch? Go.

Mike!

I heard him talking
on the phone,

and I heard him say he'd
be leaving soon— that's

when I ducked into the
instrument storage room.

Go.

You too, Lieutenant.

Now the light went out, and
went on again almost immediately.

Okay, Mr. Hellinger, you
can hang up the phone.

Mr. Parnell, pick up the receiver
and pretend to be dialing out!

All right, Mike, now what?

After about thirty seconds
or so, the light went on again.

All right, that was Stoneham
dialing Reagan, but she wasn't home.

Ah, Chad, the light went on
again a second time, but shorter.

Okay. Get back inside.

Mr. Parnell, I want you
to hang up the phone,

pick it up again and hold it.

All right, Mike. What next? After
the light went out for the third time,

I started to leave.

I heard a man's
footsteps approaching.

I ducked back inside;
then I looked out.

I saw Mr. Papazian go down the
hall to Stoneham's office and walk in.

Mr. Parnell, you can hang
up the phone! Mr. Papazian.

Okay, now I want the
two of you to argue, loud.

About what?

Anything. The price of
goat's cheese. The Dodgers.

It doesn't make any difference,
but you're mad as hell at each other.

This is ridiculous.

Of course it is, but if he wants
an argument, let's give it to him.

I haven't got anything
to hide! You think I do?

[Loud Voices On Tape]

I don't know anything
about you, Parnell. Mike!

And I don't care to!
Can you hear all that?

Ah, bits and pieces, like the night of
the murder. It's pretty noisy in here.

Mr. Singer's theatricality is
beginning to border on the ludicrous!

[Papazian] On that,
we totally agree!

Gentlemen,

that was just fine.

Mr. Papazian, you
may leave the room now.

This is the most
ridiculous thing I've...

How we doin'?

It's time. Let's go.

Mrs. Stoneham, it's
quarter to the hour.

If you'll just place that call to your
husband, like you did that night.

[Ringing]

Hey, Chad, that phone— It
never rang the other night.

[Ringing Continues]

That's right,
ma'am. It never rang.

The call you said you
made to your husband

during the commercial
break? It never happened.

But— There are no buts, ma'am.

Because you said you talked to
your husband, which you did not.

A fact I believe will be validated
by your next month's phone bill.

It's a toll call.

The only thing
I don't know is...

was Mr. Simon in on it with you?

No! No, he wasn't!

Tyler was my problem.

Poor Christine. It
was only a little slip,

but those are the
ones that get you.

She's come to the office
to surprise her husband.

They fought and long-suffering
Christine finally went over the edge.

Michael was cleared, of course.

And when last seen,

he and Reagan Miller were
boarding a plane with Max Hellinger,

headed for the Great White Way.

As for Chad and Jenny, you know,

I've been noodling with
this idea for a sequel,

in which they travel to Mississippi,
so that she can meet the folks.

On the way, they run
into this defrocked priest...

and a professional wrestler
who just happen to be...

Oops, I'm getting
ahead of myself.

Maybe we just better
wait for the sequel.

Thanks for dropping
by and good night.