Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 3, Episode 19 - No Accounting for Murder - full transcript

- [Screaming] - [Woman]
Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

There's no such thing as
ghosts. Banshees, maybe.

And, of course,
there's the little people.

You buy me out right now, or we
go to court and you open your books.

The Internal Revenue
Service does not wait.

We act quickly and decisively.

With compassion and
understanding, of course.

You want to get rich or
do you want to pay taxes?

I hope he knows what he's doing.

Tax shelters... and I
missed that semester.

The stories I could tell you.



Suicide, murder—

Who is it?

[Woman] Mr. Giles, I told you Mr. Whitman
is tied up and can't be disturbed.

That's a lot of garbage, honey.

You go tell Ralphie boy
I want to talk to him now.

If you'll just take a seat, sir,

I'm sure it won't be
more than 15, 20 minutes.

Twenty minutes.

I left my brother-in-law
running the store.

In another 20 minutes,
I could be bankrupt.

[Intercom Beeps]
Yes, Mr. Whitman.

Grady, could you step
into my office for a moment?

Yes, sir.

Here, you, uh, might
take these two as well.



And get to know these clients.
If you have any questions, ask.

Yes, sir.

We're very pleased with your
progress, both Mr. Carlisle and myself.

We feel you've, uh, you've
earned this added responsibility.

Thank you, sir. Ah,
forget the sir. It's Ralph.

Ralph, right.

Thank you, Sir Ralph.
I mean, just Ralph.

Sir. Thank you.

Yoo-hoo, Mr. Fletcher.

I brought what you
told me to bring.

Hi, Mrs. Ellis. Come on in.

Nice young man.

I hope he knows what he's doing.

What the...

[Clears Throat]

I hear your aunt
is coming for a visit.

That's nice. You
show her a good time.

You know, aunts are
very neglected these days.

Not this one.

Now, let's see. Let's
start with medical.

Here. Here's a letter
from my brother Irwin.

He had an operation and he
asked me to come and help. So I did.

God rest his soul.

Um, I'm afraid the I.R.S. won't
consider this a proper deduction.

It's medical. You said medical.

But your medical
expenses, Mrs. Ellis.

You said bring, so I brought.

Here.

You go through them and
let me know what's what.

There you are.

Are you sure? Tax
troubles I don't need.

Believe me, government agents won't
be banging down your door with a warrant.

Ha-ha, that's what
Nixon thought.

[Chuckles] Good night,
Mrs. Ellis. Good night.

Grady, your aunt
called from her hotel.

I told her quitting time was sixish, so,
uh, she should be coming by anytime now.

Oh, thanks, Connie. Yeah.

Well, I gotta go put
on some war paint.

Good.

[Screams]

[Scream]

Oh! It's him. I saw
him! It's him. It's him!

Grady!

Aunt Jess.

So you finally got him,
Caldwell, congratulations.

Grady, are you all right?
Yeah, yeah. I think so.

Where's Connie? I-I-I
better see if she's okay.

Better luck next time, Caldwell.
If you, uh, run into your ghost,

you be sure to let us
know, huh? Ghost?

It's, uh, it's a long story, Mrs.
Fletcher. It is J.B. Fletcher, isn't it?

Grady's illustrious aunt?

Yes. How do you do?

Ralph Whitman. Come
on, let me show you around.

I know Mr. Carlisle
is dying to meet you.

J.B. Fletcher. Grady's aunt.

She's a very famous writer.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.

How delightful to
meet you at last.

Why, thank you.

I can see where Grady
gets his sharp mind from.

I've been a fan of
your books for 20 years.

Oh? Yes. Well,
thank you very much.

I always say there's
nothing like a...

good, old-fashioned love story
to help you forget your cares.

Well, actually, sir, she, uh...

Oh, I quite agree
with you, Mr. Carlisle.

I mean, where would we
be without Barbara Cartland?

[Chuckles] Well, come on, Grady. We
have a reservation for an early dinner.

It was so nice meeting
you, Mr. Carlisle.

The pleasure was
all mine. Thank you.

I'll walk you to the elevator.

Oh, Paul, the Hammond account.

The file's in my office. Would
you like to take a look at it tonight?

No, no, no. I'm leaving
myself in just a minute.

[Door Closes]

[Whitman] I apologize,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Uh, Mr. Carlisle's
not much of a reader.

Oh, he was very gracious.
He wasn't the only one.

What I really want to hear
about though is the ghost.

Oh, him. Harry Caldwell,
our security guard,

and also our, uh, resident ghostbuster
swears we have spooks running around.

[Laughs] Unbelievable.
Right, Grady?

Um, right, sir.

I'll explain it to you
over dinner, Aunt Jess.

[Man] Ah, Whitman. Good, good.

Trying to catch you.
[Whitman] Mr. Grimshaw.

I've been trying to interface
with you now for several days.

Look, it's nearly
6:30. Can't this wait?

The Internal Revenue
Service does not wait, Whitman.

We act quickly and decisively.

With compassion and
understanding, of course. Of course.

You, uh, you know
the way, Mr. Grimshaw.

Excuse me.

[Sighs] Well,
have a nice dinner.

I have a feeling mine's going to
be a bowl of cereal at midnight.

Oh, I gotta get my coat
I'll be back in a second.

Feeling better after
your scare? A little.

[Jessica] I've never been
much of a believer in ghosts.

Neither was I until I
went to work in this place.

Good night again, Mrs.
Fletcher. Good night.

Good night, Mr. Carlisle.

He seems, uh, nice.
Oh, yeah, real swell.

[Door Closes] Okay. Let's go.

Oh, no, no, thanks.
I've got to work tonight.

Oh, Grady. It's that time
of the year, Aunt Jess.

For the next couple of
months, it's 16 hours a day.

Boy, being an accountant sure isn't what
I thought it would be. I am really bushed.

Well, it doesn't show.
You look wonderful.

And there's nothing
wrong with your appetite.

That's because somebody or
something stole my lunch. What?

Not Mr. Caldwell's ghost?

You know, there is something.

Weird noises, sounds
in the wall I can't explain.

You know, Caldwell says a lot of
stuff's been taken the past few months.

You know, food,
bits of clothing.

Well, sounds more like a
petty thief than an apparition.

That building
really is kinda weird.

You know, the day of
the '29 crash, a couple

of stockbrokers went
up to the roof and...

[Raps Table] splat.

Oh, dear.

I mean, maybe there's
no connection but— Grady,

the only things that go bump in the night
in this city are the taxicabs, believe me.

Good night, Grady.

Ah, thanks a lot, Aunt Jess.
See you tomorrow. Mm-hmm.

[Woman] Taxi.

Mr. Whitman?

Mr. Whitman?

Mr. Whitman, are you still here?

Mr. Whit...

Oh, my gosh.

Operator. Send
help. Send the police.

Oh— [Operator] Hello?

Sir? Hello?

Send the police where?

Sir, are you there?

Hello.

Sir, sir, are you there?

[Humming]

Is the lieutenant here?

Ah. Lieutenant Rafferty?

That's Hanratty, mum.

Oh, I'm sorry. I was
looking for Grady Fletcher.

Ah, then you must be the lad's
aunt. It's a pleasure to meet you.

Timothy Hanratty
at your service.

Oh, how do you do? I'm Jessica
Fletcher. I wonder if I could...

Now calm yourself, ma'am.

The lad is fine. He's just givin'
a statement to one of me men.

He'll be along in just
a few more minutes.

Tell me, Mrs. Fletcher.

Did you, uh, know the victim?

Oh, no. I-I just met
him this evening.

Terrible way to die.

The lad found him there
in his chair, with the...

lamp cord tied tightly
around his neck.

And, uh, as you can see,

the perpetrator left
behind his calling card.

But that doesn't make any sense.

I beg your pardon?

Well, it-it makes it
seem as if Mr. Whitman

had been killed by a
madman or a stranger,

but if a stranger had
walked into his office,

surely he wouldn't have
remained seated at his desk.

Ah, an interesting observation.

And if he had been working alone in
the room, with the outer door locked,

he would have had to get up
to go and admit whoever it was.

Ah, your nephew's right, mum.

You do have a keen mind
for police work, but, uh,

Mr. Whitman wasn't
the only one here.

That is to say, your
nephew was on the scene.

Yes. He, uh, told me that
he had reported the crime.

That he did.

So obviously he
didn't kill Mr. Whitman.

Well, it's unlikely.

Unlikely? Now,
now, Mrs. Fletcher.

Let's not be giving ourselves a bellyache
until after we've tasted the stew.

Ah, wait.

It seems that our killer has
left more than just a message.

In all likelihood, that's
Mr. Whitman's hat and coat.

Most likely, but, uh...

Then what's that on the floor?

I think the killer
forgot his hat.

Mrs. Fletcher.

[Blows] This is mine.

I bought it this
morning. [Laughs]

It must have fallen to
the floor in the confusion.

Sergeant. Yes.

Seal up that room. Let no
one in without my authorization.

Yes, sir. Oh, and, Joe...

Mm-hmm. When you
finish with young Fletcher,

tell him his aunt is here.

Sure will.

[Hanratty] Are you sure?
No, no, no, thank you.

I am absolutely
devastated by Ralph's death.

He was like my right arm to me,

as well as a very
close personal friend.

Now if there is nothing more, Lieutenant,
I really should get to my office.

Oh. Then you'll be open today.

So hard on the heels of the
death of your close personal friend.

I'm a C.P.A., Lieutenant,
not a sentimentalist.

[Grady] Can you believe this?

Opening the office
after last night?

Oh. Wait till you've been
here as long as me, Grady.

Nothing will surprise you.

Must have been awful,
finding him like this.

Yeah, I felt like
tossing my dinner.

That's nice. What?

Well, I just mean, most
guys would try to act tough.

Act like it didn't get
to them, you know.

That's what I like about
you, Grady. Really?

Thanks. Ah, Fletcher.

We have some important
matters to discuss.

Your office? Mr. Grimshaw,
we've had a murder here last night.

Mr. Whitman— I know about
Whitman. I listen to the radio.

That's why I'm
talking to you now.

Come along. I
haven't got all day.

Bottom line, Fletcher. You've got
48 hours to come up with the figures.

Figures? What figures?

[Laughs] Don't play
dumb with me, pal.

It's been tried by
experts, believe me, some

of whom are doing
three-to-five in Leavenworth.

I don't know what
you're talking about.

Neptune Ventures.

Whitman said you're the engine
driving that crummy tax dodge.

Me?

Save the dumb look.

All I want is one thing.

Facts, figures, names, dates,
places, the whole megillah.

After you.

Oh, geez.

[Hanratty] I took
the liberty of pullin' a

small file we have on
your activities, mum.

The young lady murdered
by that cosmetic executive,

your very own publisher sent
away because of your ingenuity.

I'm surprised the department
hasn't given you a gold badge.

[Laughs]

Well, it's, uh, just a
quirk of mind really.

The way I see things, you know.

You see them quite
clearly. [Laughs]

It's a gift. My dear Kathleen
had it, God rest her soul.

Oh, you're a widower. I'm sorry.

Oh, she's happy enough I'm sure.

Hobnobbin' with the rest
of the saints in heaven.

But I suppose the thing I miss
most about her is the evenings...

we'd be discussing my
cases and me sittin' there

listening to her clear,
logical observations.

Be a fine thing...

to have another intelligent
woman to share my thoughts.

Lieutenant.

And I'd deem it a great personal
favor if you'd, uh, call me Timothy.

Timothy.

Have you ever been within kissing
distance of the Blarney stone?

Never had the pleasure.

[Carlisle] Tax shelters?

Sorry, Grady, those
were Whitman's babies.

Who's the I.R.S. agent?

Mr. Grimshaw. That figures.

Years ago, Grimshaw tried to
nail Ralph on a tax fraud case,

and Ralph made
mincemeat of him with his

supervisors, so Grimshaw's
been after him ever since.

Well, maybe he got him.

I mean, last night. He was with
Mr. Whitman when we all left.

Yes, I told the lieutenant
that this morning.

He said he'd check it out.

Listen, Grady.

My advise to you is to
show Grimshaw everything,

whatever you and
Ralph were working on.

But, sir, we weren't
working on anything.

I mean, at least not none
of his tax shelters. Really?

I was sure that Ralph said...

Oh, I'm sorry.

I must have misunderstood.

Well, just do the best you can,

and if there's ever any trouble,

remember this firm
is behind you 100%.

[Stammers]

Morning, sir. Good
morning, Joe. Any luck?

Not yet.

Ghost hunting.

Sir, that I.R.S. agent
Grimshaw was here.

I took the liberty
to question him.

He admits he was with the
victim until about 7:00, then he left.

Caldwell, the security
guy, saw him go.

Oh, any word about
Whitman's wife?

We're still trying to find her.

Mrs. Whitman has been strangely
missing for the past 18 hours.

Well, if you'll excuse me, Timothy,
I'm going to try and locate my nephew.

Fine, fine. But if you come up with
one of those famous inspirations...

I'll find you.

Mr. Caldwell?

Your guys are wasting
their time, Lieutenant.

This-This old building
is like a rabbit warren.

Now your spook could be
hiding anywhere. Spook, is it?

Mr. Caldwell, you're not telling
me that you believe in ghosts.

You know, I don't know what
I should believe in anymore.

I understand you saw Mr. Grimshaw
leave the building last night.

When was that?

Around 7:00, you say? Right.

And what time did you leave?

Eight o'clock.

Mr. Whitman was alive
and alone when I left.

Easy, man. I'm
makin' no accusations.

The coroner says he couldn't
possibly have died before 9:00,

so if you're tellin' me the truth,
you have nothin' to worry about.

Tax shelters... and I
missed that semester.

And this Neptune Ventures
isn't in anything I've got.

The files must be in
Ralph Whitman's office.

Oh, great. The police have got it
sealed— [Woman] This is ridiculous.

I have every right to go
into my husband's office.

Lana, the police have it locked
up. There's nothing I can do.

Paul, you make me sick.

Hello again, Mrs. Whitman.

Uh, do I know you?

Well, we haven't actually met, but you
tried to commandeer my taxi last night.

Down, outside this building.

Oh, no, I wasn't at this
building last night. Excuse me.

Ah, Mrs. Whitman.

You were here. And
under the circumstances, I—

I feel obligated to tell
Lieutenant Hanratty.

Wouldn't you rather
just come along with me?

I mean, I'm sure there's some
very reasonable explanation.

Sure, why not? I guess I
have to talk to him eventually.

Catch you later, Paul.

Grady, the Hammond
file is in my office.

You may need it for that
meeting this afternoon.

Yes, sir. Thanks.

Okay. I was here to see
my husband last night.

What of it?

Now, now, Mrs. Whitman.
There's no need to be testy.

I did not kill my
husband. Perhaps not.

But we had a great
difficulty in reaching you.

I-I had a late engagement.

Very late. I also
got up very late.

Not in your own apartment?

No.

Look, Lieutenant.

I had my life and Ralph had his.

Our marriage was a
convenience for both of us,

financially and otherwise.

Well, we-we took
our own vacations.

My taste ran to the
Riviera and Grenoble,

and he liked the Cayman
Islands of all places.

And on those few occasions
when he needed me on his arm,

I smiled at all
the right people.

Any other questions?

Ah, Mrs. Fletcher?

I just wanted to ask, at
the time that I saw you,

I assume your husband was still in the
meeting with the Internal Revenue agent.

Well, yes. Okay, I
actually didn't talk to him.

I got to the office door.

It was locked. I knocked. Nobody
answered so— Excuse me, sir.

Uh, we got trouble.

Upstairs.

I-I-I saw it, soon as I
walked in with my cart.

There are ghosts here, sir.

Hiding in the walls.

Every place. I-I can
hear 'em, smell 'em.

Now, there, there. There's
no such thing as ghosts.

Banshees, maybe.

And of course, there's the little
people. But ghosts? No, no, no.

It looks fresh, Lieutenant.

I can tell you this. It
wasn't here last night.

Where's that lead?

The office next door.

Let's take a look.

You must have
had quite a fright.

Oh, I still can't
get used to it.

The things that you see
and hear, Mrs. Weems...

Is there any particular place...

where the spirits seem stronger?

I've worked here nearly 40 years,
Mrs. Fletcher, girl and woman.

The stories I could tell you about
what's gone on within these walls...

robbery, suicide, murder.

Would you mind
if I looked around?

Do as you like. I've
had enough of this place.

Who is it?

Just stay right where you are,
ma'am. Don't you come any closer.

Who are you?

It don't matter none. I ain't gonna
hurt you. I haven't hurt anybody.

Then it was you who scrawled
the warnings on the walls.

No. It wasn't me.

I live here. I wouldn't
do that to my home.

Live here? Where?
There's places.

Warm places.

It's better than being
out there in the cold.

I find enough to get by. Some
pieces of clothing, food, things to read.

I get by.

You write real nice
stories, Mrs. Fletcher.

You tell 'em, you tell 'em
that I ain't hurt anybody.

Then you know about
the murder of Mr. Whitman.

I been watchin' all day
from here and there.

This old building's got
passageways that even I ain't found,

with all the remodeling that's
been done over the years.

If you know anything,
you should come forward.

No! I don't know nothing.

Now you tell 'em that.

Now you just walk straight
the way you was going.

It will take you
to the fire stairs.

Wait! Don't go!

Oh.

[Jessica] Timothy,
I believed him.

The resident ghost of that
building is definitely not a killer.

[Timothy] I think maybe his
blarney works better than mine.

[Jessica] Oh, no. Look,
if he was a crazed killer,

he could have easily killed me
and left me there in the passage,

and no one would
have been any the wiser.

[Timothy] That seems to
leave a problem for both of us.

[Jessica] Oh?

[Timothy] Well, if this
phantom isn't our killer,

and there was no one else
in the building last night,

that seems to leave
only one possible suspect.

Grady?

Well, he certainly had a great
deal to gain from Whitman's death.

New responsibilities, a
promotion. That's ridiculous.

The thought gives me
no pleasure, Jessica.

But perhaps you have, uh, some
idea that hasn't as yet occurred to me.

Well, I'm sure that Lana
Whitman has occurred to you.

Yes, yes, the merry widow.

Yeah, I mean she may have been
lying about the door being locked.

And I have this feeling that
she had a very strong motive.

Oh, yes, indeed. The lady is involved with
some Bulgarian poet down in the Village.

Aha! And since Ralph Whitman
was right up there financially,

perhaps his death gave Lana
the best of both possible worlds.

I'll check into that. Is
there anything else?

[Carlisle] What are you
talking about? He's crazy.

No, no, no, no, no.

No, you defer capital
gains with a trust fund.

You borrow against
the trust and use the

cash to leverage the
buy of the condo units.

Look, Myron,

if you'd prefer to take tax advice
from your son-in-law, be my guest.

Just a minute, Myron. We've unsealed
the Whitman office, Mr. Carlisle.

You can use it.

Oh, thank you. Would
you tell Mr. Fletcher that?

Already did. Good.

Myron.

[Sighs] Myron, let
me ask you a question.

Do you want to get rich or do
you want to pay taxes. Which is it?

[Sighs] Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.

It's as if this Neptune
Ventures doesn't even exist.

[Jessica] But it
has to, doesn't it?

I mean, isn't that what
Mr. Grimshaw wants to know about?

He must know something.

Well, if he does,
he's not telling me.

Maybe there's something
here in his appointment book.

My goodness.

He's certainly had a very busy
schedule these past few weeks.

You know, I don't get it.

Mr. Whitman really
was a pretty good guy.

I mean, who'd want to kill him?

Marty Giles. What?

Grady, who's Marty Giles?

Well, he's a client but—

Well, look. He
was here yesterday.

Yeah, mad as hell too.

And there's a penciled-in
notation next to his name.

NV. NV... Neptune's Ventures.

But I checked the files. There
is nothing in here on Neptune.

Are you sure?

Yeah, I'm positive.

That's very odd.

Unless Neptune Ventures was the kind
of thing that you don't keep a file on.

I think we should pay a
visit to this Mr. Marty Giles.

Oh, 60 bucks a pop? Come
on, Marty, you're killin' me.

That's 20 bucks below
what I paid for these things.

Come on, Charlie,
paid? What paid?

You got a receipt for those?
Who you think you're talkin' to?

All right. I lost it, huh?
Speakin' of gettin' lost...

Okay, okay. Sixty bucks,
but you're a thief, Marty.

[Laughs] No kiddin'.

See Elsie.

Pardon me, lady. Pardon me.

Eh, excuse me, Mr. Giles?

Yeah, whatcha selling?
Ah, I beg your pardon?

Anybody calls me Mr. is sellin'.

Excuse me.

If you could just
spare me a moment,

I'd like to talk to you
about Ralph Whitman.

Who are you, his
replacement? What?

Well, I heard he
got knocked off.

I just figured they'd be sendin' over
somebody else to bust my chops.

Elsie, call those
creeps over in the Bronx.

Ask 'em where's those watches?

Ah, Mr. Giles, I'm not
from your accounting office.

Well, that's good. Those gonifs—They
were the start of all my problems.

Oh, you mean you're
going out of business.

Going out of business?
What are you talking about?

Oh, I'm sorry. The
sign in the window.

Lady, that sign has been in the window
since 1968 when I bought this place.

If I wasn't going out
of business, I couldn't

stay in business, not
in this neighborhood.

What are you, from out of
town or something? Actually, yes.

Yeah, figures. Yeah,
I'm Jessica Fletcher,

and my nephew works for Carlisle
and Associates— And I'm not interested.

Look, I know you're very busy, but I
want to ask you about Neptune Ventures.

Whoa, whoa, here.
Who told you about that?

Well, an agent from
the Internal Revenue.

That's it, lady, case
closed. I'm busy.

Oh, but Mr. Giles...

Look, I got nothing to
say to you about nothin'.

Now do yourself a
favor and take a hike,

because I don't wanna do or
say anything ungentlemanly.

Excuse me.

Okay, folks, this ain't no
library. There's no readin' here.

Do it and move out.

Okay, thank you.

Sorry, Mrs. Ellis. Mr. Fletcher's
going to be a little late.

So I'll wait. I've had plenty
of practice. Where is he?

He's at the I.R.S.

Then they're making trouble?

Not at all. It's very normal
for a C. P.A. to be at the I. R.S.

[Mrs. Ellis] So many initials.
I'm sure that means trouble.

[Grimshaw] I have had inquiries where the
taxpayer was accompanied by his accountant,

but I've never had an inquiry where the
accountant was accompanied by his aunt.

Well, actually, Mr. Grimshaw,

I am working with the police
on the Ralph Whitman murder.

Unofficially, of course.

I see.

And what does Whitman's death got to do
with my investigation of your nephew's...

involvement with fraud
against the government?

But that has yet to be proved.

Proved?

Madam, we are the Internal Revenue Service.
The burden of proof is on your nephew,

and it is my considered
opinion that he is the

architect behind this
amateurish boondoggle.

Sir, I-I don't even know
what Neptune Ventures is.

No?

Well, neither do I, precisely.

But it has been used
for a write-off for large

so-called losses on the
returns of six Carlisle clients.

One of whom is Marty Giles.

Perhaps I'm interrogating
the wrong Fletcher.

I did try to talk to Mr. Giles about
it, but he refused to speak to me.

And he told me he knew
nothing about it, it was...

How did he put it— "Something
Ralph Whitman put me into."

And since you've been Whitman's
assistant for the past few months,

and now have all his
accounts— [Phone Rings]

Grimshaw.

Really?

Yes, yes, excellent
news. Excellent.

I'll expect a full report by
close of business today.

Huh.

Ah, despite what you
may think, Mrs. Fletcher,

we are not without
heart here at the I.R.S.

We've just made a hairdresser in
Greenpoint a very wealthy woman.

She supplied us with information that
resulted in a $2.6 million tax evasion.

Her 10% informant's fee
will net her a tidy $260,000.

You mean you actually pay people to
inform on their friends and neighbors.

I prefer to think of it as
a reward for patriotism.

Now then, Mr. Fletcher.

Let me ask you
this one more time:

What is Neptune Ventures?

[Lana] You deal in dollars and
cents, Paul, so let's talk bottom line.

My marriage to Ralph, as you
know, was something less than blissful.

All five years of it.

And since I didn't get much in
the way of love or companionship,

I think I'm entitled
to something tangible

for all those years of
ignominious existence.

Lana, I'm very busy...

Ralph owned five percent of
this money-making machine,

and now it's mine,
and I'm ready to sell.

Are you?

Zoltan wants us to move
to the coast of Spain.

He says New York no
longer inspires him, and...

I think we can manage
very nicely on $500,000.

You have an inflated opinion
of what this business is worth.

$100,000 a year, five years.

I may have sold out cheap
but at least let me collect.

Lana, I have someone
waiting for me.

Listen to me, you
arrogant horse's patootie.

You buy me out right now, or we
go to court and you open your books.

Somehow I-I have this
big, big feeling that...

you really don't
want to do that.

Am I right?

Ah, there you are.

I was just upstairs, looking
for you, Mr. Fletcher. Me?

Gives me no great pleasure, son, but, uh,
I've got to bring you in for questioning.

What? Lieutenant!

The gentleman from the
Internal Revenue, Grimshaw,

he just called with information
that ties your nephew to a tax fraud...

and just possibly to
a motive for murder.

Come along, son.

[Hanratty] Have you ever been
to the Cayman Islands, son?

Well, yeah, a couple of times.

Grady, I never knew that.

Well, it was just
business, Aunt Jess.

Mr. Whitman sent me down a couple
of times to meet with some investors.

I was only there a day or two.

And did you do business with the
New Commonwealth Bank and Trust?

No!

The Neptune Ventures setup
was set there about six months ago.

It's being held in your name
and the late Ralph Whitman.

This is crazy.

And they've got your
signature on the card.

Then it's a forgery. I
never signed anything.

Wait. I seem to remember that Mr. Whitman
spent his vacations in the Caymans.

If anyone's behind this clumsy attempt
to frame Grady, I'm sure it was him.

Well, I'll have a bit o' trouble
askin' him about that, now won't I?

Look, son, Between you
and me and these walls,

I also am having a bit of
trouble believing you're involved.

But the commissioner...

Oh, Timothy, hang
the commissioner.

Since when is an Irishman
intimidated by a bureaucrat?

Now, look, you asked for my
help, now I'm asking for yours.

Now let's have one more look at
those files back at Whitman's office.

[Grady] Again? Aunt Jess, we've
been through them a dozen times.

But at least now we know
who and what we're looking for.

Mr. Grimshaw gave me a list of six clients
who were involved in Neptune Ventures.

Concentrate on these. Meanwhile, I
am going to have a chat with one of them.

And this time, I am going to
get some straight answers.

Lou, stop busting
my chops, will ya?

I mean, look, you wanna make a
deal with Shelley, make a deal. Just...

Uh, look, the last load of
toasters you shipped me, junk.

You bring me a gross,
I'll go maybe nine fifty.

Otherwise, give Shelley the
headache. Lady, I got no time.

Make time, Mr. Giles,
or would you rather do it.

Ah, no, someone nice as you
shouldn't go around makin' threats.

I'm sorry, but I don't
have time for the niceties.

You said that the people at
Carlisle Associates were what?

What was that word? Gonifs?

Gonifs— thieves, crooks.

While you are the
soul of honesty.

I'm a businessman not a
social work— I suppose you're

taking in a lot of money the
government doesn't know about?

What is this? Twenty questions?

And your accountants
know all about it.

They might even want
a piece of your action.

Ha, if you think I'm
going to make a comment

on that. They might even
offer some protection.

You've been watching
too many Cagney movies.

Mr. Giles, at the moment,

my nephew is under
suspicion of murder.

If I have to, I will
gladly trade you for him.

Now how about the truth,
just between you and me.

Okay, somebody got wise
to what I was doing here,

maybe those Carlisle creeps.

I was told to make a
certain investment or...

or they'd go to the IRS
and collect the reward.

You were told by whom?

I don't know. Everything
was done through the mail.

And the investment
was Neptune Ventures.

Yeah. How did you know that?

That's not important.

So all the checks that you made
out were to Neptune Ventures.

Yes, and mailed to a P.O. box.

Believe me, it was a lot cheaper than
what the I.R.S. would have done to me.

Blackmail by long distance...

by someone who was very knowledgeable
about your finances, Mr. Giles.

Thank you very much. You've
been very helpful. Listen, lady, uh,

you're not gonna have
to tell the government

about this, are
you? Oh, I'm sorry.

They already know.

[Laughs] Well, that's great.

Now I really am
going out of business.

[Grady] Neptune Ventures.

We're not even sure it
ties in with the murder.

The killer could be
someone else altogether.

Maybe even your ghost.

[Yawns] I'm going to go
splash some water on my face.

You take a look. Maybe
you can find something in this.

Oh, hey, Grady? Hmm?

Could you do me a favor?
Yeah, sure, anything.

Um. Oh.

I guess I'm kinda spooked.

Do you mind walking me to the subway?
It'll only take a couple of minutes.

Yeah, I'll get my coat. Thanks.

Okay. Let's go. Okay.

Hammond. Charles S.

Hammond? Where have
I heard that name before?

Oh, dear.

It can't be.

Or can it?

Can it what, Mrs. Fletcher?

Mr. Carlisle, I thought
you'd left for the day.

Oh, the weather's turning ugly,
and I came back for my umbrella.

Hammond, Charles S.

Is this what can't
be, Mrs. Fletcher?

Oh, uh, well, uh,
for a moment...

I thought-I thought it was
a friend of my late husband.

Ah, he and his wife lived in
Cabot Cove for years. And, uh,

then I remembered it
was Charles M. Hammond.

M for Maurice.

Not that gentleman at all.

Hmm, interesting coincidence.

Yes. You're very
quick, Mrs. Fletcher.

I'm surprised and a little
saddened that you caught it.

I caught what?

Such a little mistake.

And yet so stupid.

Well, I-I really
must be leaving.

Finding a cab will be
impossible in this weather.

You won't be needing
a cab, I'm afraid.

I just can't believe how
careless I was that first evening.

Ralph was just about to walk you to the
elevator and then he turned to me and said:

Oh, uh, Paul, the
Hammond account.

The file's in my office. Would
you like to look at it tonight?

No, no, no, no, no, I'm
leaving myself in just a minute.

No, I'll check it
in the morning.

Then the next day,
that's when I slipped.

The Hammond
file is in my office.

You may need it for that
meeting this afternoon.

I'm sorry, I, uh, I
don't remember.

Of course you do.

And you knew that because
this office was sealed,

there's no way I could
have had that file unless...

I had come back here after
I'd supposedly left for the night.

Oh, I'm sure you had a
perfectly good reason.

Uh, you probably wanted to
chat about business or something.

Actually I came back here to
kill that second-rate blackmailer.

Neptune Ventures.

Oh, you had that
figured out too.

Well, uh, not-not exactly.

I mean, uh, I just
have a theory.

Ah, Grady!

Oh, I don't think he can
hear you, Mrs. Fletcher.

I spotted him walking Connie to
the subway as I was coming in.

And knowing Grady, I doubt
very much if he'll hurry back.

Tell me about your theory.

Well, I-I think that Mr. Whitman
was threatening some of his clients.

I mean, his tax cheaters.

And instead of coming right out and
demanding blackmail, he suggested,

strongly suggested, that they should
invest money in Neptune Ventures.

Ah.

Correct in all
respects except one.

Neptune was my scene.

Ralph found out about it, and
he started blackmailing me.

He said he wanted in
or else, so I let him in.

I even let him put his
name on the account.

Yes, and Grady's.

Ah, that was Ralph's idea.

He wanted a patsy to take the
heat in case the deal fell through.

Well, I suppose I
could have gone along,

sharing the bounty with Ralph.

But you know there
is something about...

having a blackmailer's
knife at your throat.

I'd have been at his
mercy for the rest of my life.

Mr. Carlisle, you certainly can't
expect to get away with another murder.

Oh, no? Why not?

I have a perfect
suspect. Our ghost.

Another strangling,

another message
scrawled across the wall.

It's worth a try. Besides
what choice do I have?

Learned this working my
way through Texas, ma'am.

You okay? Oh,
yes, yes, I'm fine.

Aunt Jess, you all
right? Oh, Grady, in here.

I thought I heard a
crash. It was Mr. Carlisle.

Wow!

Did you do that? Oh,
no, no. It was, uh...

[Hanratty] Well,
now imagine that.

Popped right out of nowhere.

And saved my life, believe me.

You know, Lieutenant.

I don't see any real need for you
to continue your search for him.

Do you? I mean, you have
Mr. Carlisle's confession.

And he never really
took anything of value.

Not really.

Well, I could be searchin' for
months and come up empty.

It's like tryin' to find
one of the little people.

Nah, I-I wouldn't
worry about him at all.

Then how about lunch?

I saw a little place around the corner that
has a special on corned beef and cabbage.

You don't say. I'll
get my coat and hat.

All right.

Oh, no, oh.

Timothy, what is it?

Some thievin' bugger's
pinched me new hat.