Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 4, Episode 18 - Benedict Arnold Slipped Here - full transcript

Tillie Adams is dead. Dead? Kevin,
I swear I had nothing to do with it.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

She left this rattrap to me, and I'm not
about to share it with the village idiot.

Why do you suppose the ambulance
is outside and the police car?

Oh, it's nothing we need
to concern ourselves about.

I'd just love to merge our
resources and our connections.

Why, I shall have the house
dismantled and shipped back to England...

- as a shrine to Benedict Arnold.
- A shrine?

Well, now what
did you get for her?

Oh, I got her mostly fruit and a
little makeup to boost her morale.

If you ask me, the
outside of Tillie's house



could use a coat of paint too.

Oh, it'll would take
more than one coat.

Might hold the house together.

If I can find someone, I will,
someone who needs the work.

I thought you hired Emily
Goshen to clean for Tillie.

Doesn't look to me as
if she’s moved the dust

around much. Well, it
is more for company.

You know, when you're a
shut-in, it's very comforting

to know that there is
somebody else in the house.

Even Emily Goshen?

I'll let Tillie know we're here.

Tillie, it’s Jessica
and Dr. Hazlitt!

Tillie, you decent?

Tillie?



Tillie?

Dad, guess what! Kevin. Kevin,
can't you see I'm with a customer?

I know, but it's somethin' special.
Kevin, whatever it is, it can wait.

- But, you don't know—
- It can wait, Kevin!

Now, you were sayin', Emily?

I'd like to see the
brooch, if you please.

Yeah, here it is.
Here's the little beauty.

Come to buy it back, have you? Thirty
dollars. Same as you paid me for it.

Oh, well now, Emily, that was the
price six months ago, the old price.

I, uh, I'm afraid it's
gonna cost you $50 now.

You're tryin' to cheat
me, Mr. Tibbles.

Harsh words, Emily, for
a lady of your gentility.

That brooch was my mother's. It
was a family heirloom. Isn't that funny?

I saw one just like it on Tillie
Adams's bureau about six months ago.

Don't you talk to
me about Tillie.

Oh, I've seen you
wheedlin' that old lady,

makin' such a big
deal about, uh, changin'

a light bulb or puttin'
in a window screen.

Nice seein' you again, Emily.

Why don't you come back
when you got the money?

But I'd hurry, if I
were you, 'cause I can

feel the price goin'
up again... any minute.

Someday, Mr. Tibbles.
Someday you’ll be sorry.

Oh, I'm sorry already. I
should have asked for 60.

- Now what are you
yammerin' about?
- Tillie Adams is dead.

Dead? Kevin, I swear I
had nothin' to do with it.

I used to go up there to fix
things to help the poor old soul.

Dad, she died of natural causes.

Oh, is that so?

Kevin, why don't you send your
suit out to get cleaned? I'll even pay.

'Cause you and me
are goin' to a funeral.

Poor Tillie. She was
forgotten before she was gone.

I've seen larger crowds at the drive-in
theater waiting in line for mosquito spray.

Well, at least Benny Tibbles and
his son showed up. I wonder why?

You want some
coffee? Yes, please.

Well, the way he was
wiping up his crocodile tears,

you'd have thought
he'd lost his best friend

in the world, but
that's simply ridiculous.

Benny is his own
best friend in the world.

I saw him leaving
Tillie's house one time.

He was counting on his fingers.

Anybody home? Oh,
Amos, come on in.

Thanks, Mrs. Fletcher.
Hi, Doc. Howdy.

Ah, guess you folks
went to the funeral, huh?

Oh, pity you weren't there, Amos.
Wasn't half as much fun without you.

Seth! I had to be in court.

While I was there, I bumped
into, uh, Tillie's lawyer.

He told me, in the strictest
confidence, about her will.

Sit down, Amos.

Ah. And now you’re gonna tell
us in the strictest confidence, huh?

Seems only fair, since
Mrs. Fletcher's in it. Me?

Just wait. First of all, Tillie left
her house to her grandniece.

- Well, didn't know she had one.
- Well, no one knows whether
she was dead or alive.

I mean, she disappeared
around the time of Woodstock.

Well, the house is
all she's gonna get.

She left the contents of
the house to Benny Tibbles...

to repay his kindness
and thoughtfulness.

Well, that's not the Benny Tibbles I know.
I thought you said Jess was in the will.

Well, not exactly in it, Doc.

Mrs. Fletcher, Tillie
named you her executor.

Good heavens!

Well, I—I suppose
that's a great honor.

I think I'd hold back on my
enthusiasm if I were you, Jess.

As I see it, your work will be
getting an appraisal of Tillie's house...

and then an inventory of
everything that's in it for tax purposes.

You ought to be through by next
Christmas. Easter, with any luck.

Unless you get out of it.

Won't be much fun dealin'
with Benny Tibbles either.

Tibbles. Good afternoon.

Benny, I thought I asked
you not to call me here.

You have a very keen
eye, Mr. Wetherly.

Benny, whatever it
is, I'm not interested.

Well, you should be
interested, little brother,

because I am perfectly willing to
cut you in on something very big. Ah.

How big? About the
size of a white elephant?

Like that three-legged
breakfront that kept

falling over every time
you opened the doors?

I am talking big, monetarily.

It fell into my lap, and I'm
offering you a golden opportunity.

Please, get in your car, drive up here
to Cabot Cove and we will talk about it.

No. No, it would be impossible
for me to rearrange my schedule.

Well, thank you so much, Mr. Wetherly.
You've made a wonderful selection.

Wilton, I am talking the mother lode
of antiques, and it all belongs to me!

Hold on a moment. My assistant
is bidding for my attention.

12,000 for a settee?

He has the perfect little
spot for it in his foyer.

I bought that piece of
junk from Benny for $70.

Apparently there's more
where that came from.

As I was saying, a drive up the
coast wouldn't be all that unpleasant.

See you soon, big brother.

Mmm.

Hello?

Oh, Eve, are you finished
already? How does it look?

Ah, where to start? The
building is ancient and dilapidated,

the plumbing needs to be ripped
out and replaced, the wiring is a joke,

the roof is shot, the building has dry rot
and will never pass a termite inspection,

the septic tank is inadequate,
the trees are dying,

the fence is falling down,
the backyard is a dump.

I mean, what else do
you want to know, Jessica?

Well, surely it has
one redeeming feature.

Face it, there is nothing
here to attract a buyer.

Not even a good romantic
history. Oh, now wait a minute, Eve.

I seem to recall that this house has some
connection with the Revolutionary War.

I mean, didn't George Washington
sleep here once? Close, Jessica, close.

It was Benedict Arnold who put his
boots under the bed here, more than once.

According to the legend, he and the
lady of this house were very simpatico.

Well, that is not likely
to thrill the D.A.R.

Ah, between you and me, this house
has been altered so many times...

there's nothing left of the original
structure except part of the den.

Of course, uh, there's one difference. The
house was a lot cleaner in the old days.

I think you offended her.

Impossible. Emily used to

clean for me twice a week, -

until one day my best
pair of shoes walked

right of the house and
were never seen again.

Oops! Oh, I am late for an appointment
with a hot prospect from out of town.

Very British. Talks like David Niven.
Oh, don't let me keep you from that.

Oh, I'll try to make some sense
out of this. I'll get back to you.

Thanks, Eve. I know
you're very busy.

Busy? OH, Jessica, real
estate in this town is about

as dead as dear old
Benedict. We'll talk. Bye-bye.

Bye-bye.

Emily, I know that you
must be very tired...

and upset, of course,
over Tillie's death,

but I am counting on you to bring
some kind of order into all of that chaos.

Well, it hardly seems worth
the bother, now that she's dead.

But if that's what you
want, Mrs. Fletcher.

Thanks.

But I will tell you one thing. Eve Simpson
don't know beans about this house.

That was no legend about
Benedict Arnold and his lady friend.

That was pure gospel. Oh?

Well, Tillie told me so
herself, and she knew,

'cause she was related to Benedict
Arnold, on the wrong side of the blanket.

Yeah, and that's
not all she told me.

Tillie swore that there
was treasure in this house.

Treasure? What sort of treasure?
Well, she didn't say exactly.

But, oh, I could tell from
the glint in her eye that,

ooh, it must have been something of
value, you know, uh, like gold, maybe.

Really? She never
mentioned that to me.

Well, the way Benny Tibbles was
hangin' around and playin' up to her?

Oh, I wouldn't be a bit
surprised if she told him. Hmm.

That car I'm restoring?
It's almost finished.

So what? I could sell it.

Who to? Everybody in Cabot
Cove already owns an old car.

Uncle Wilton said this one's special.
I could sell it for a bundle in Boston.

Well, you're not in
Boston. Well, I could be...

if you gave me
$50,000 to get started.

Fifty— Will you please stop
talkin' to your Uncle Wilton?

Now there's no need
for you to go to Boston.

You've got it made
right here in Cabot Cove.

Kevin, one day all this
is gonna belong to you.

Benny, let me look at you.

Hello, Wilton. My
God, you never change.

I knew you couldn't pass
up an opportunity like this.

Who's your friend? My assistant.

Lauren, this is my brother Benny
and his son Kevin. Lauren Hastings.

Always glad to meet one
of Wilton's, uh, assistants.

Why, thank you, Benny.
I've heard a lot about you too.

So this must be little
Kevin. Hello, ma'am.

- Back to work on your car, Kev.
- I want to talk to...

I said back to work on the car, Kevin.
Your uncle and I have business to do.

Benny, Benny, how I envy
you and your low overhead.

I was so sorry to hear about
Tillie Adams passing away.

Mmm. Congratulations, you old fox.
Don't you try and flimflam me, Wilton.

Me, flimflam my own big
brother? Oh, come on. Get off it.

How many times have I sold
you pieces for a couple of dollars

that you took to Boston and
sold for a couple of hundred?

Oh, Benny! Uh-huh. Well,
this time it's gonna be different.

Either I get paid half
or the whole deal is off.

You know, dear brother,
it's just possible that

you’ve inherited a house
full of junk even I can't sell.

Won't work, Wilty. I happen to
know there's a fortune in Tillie's house.

You know, Benny, I'm
starting to work up quite a thirst.

I'll go get us a little hard
cider. Good. Now we're talking.

I've been dying to get into that
old woman's house for years.

Ever want something so
bad you just can't stand it?

Why, Wilton, you've
been reading my mind.

Just a minute.

- Mrs. Fletcher?
- Yes.

I heard Tillie Adams is
dead and you're her executor.

Yes. Uh, who are you?

I'm Liza Adams, her grandniece, and
I've come for my inheritance, in cash.

Hello. Oh, hello, Eve.

I was thinking of giving you a call, but I
wasn't sure that you'd be up this early.

Jessica, do you remember my
mentioning that gentleman from out of town?

Well, he's very interested
in buying Tillie's house.

Well, that's very nice, but,
uh, it might be a little premature.

Why? The word is the
new owner's in town.

Well, I can see that
the beauty parlor for

communication system
is working in good order.

But I'm afraid that, uh, legal
ownership hasn't yet been established.

Jess! Oh.

I'm talking to Eve Simpson.

Jessica, is there any way to hurry up
this process? This is very important to me.

Now look. Very frankly, Tillie's grandniece
sounds more than willing to sell.

I advised her to stick close, and I
promise that... I'll introduce you to her.

Oh, please. The
sooner the better.

You just hold onto
that hot prospect, Eve.

Good-bye.

Jess, did you know you've got a
squatter out here in your backyard?

- Oh, that's Liza Adams.
- A-yah. Appears she took your advice.

Couldn't be much closer
unless she moved in.

Maybe she likes
living in a tent.

Oh, Jess. You're the only person
I know with her own private hippie.

Really. Tillie never
could throw away a busted

umbrella or a pair
of worn out galoshes.

You know, I don't know how many
times I've walked past that old sampler,

and I've never
really looked at it.

It's not like any one
I've ever seen before.

You know, there's usually a
hand-embroidered alphabet...

with, you know,
a homely motto...

that shows off the maker's
needle working skills.

But whoever made this was
either short on skill or patience.

Jess! Jess, come over
here and look at this!

Have you ever seen
such exquisite detail?

Oh, my. Isn't that lovely!

Eighteenth century British. I
saw one like it in a museum once.

Oh, it just breaks my heart to think
that Tibbles will get his hands on this.

Don't you suppose there's some
way we could, you know, overlook it?

Seth.

- No, I guess not.
- Wait till you see this stuff.

It's like a trip to a
candy store. Mmm.

Come in, come in.

Morning, Benny.

Jessica.

Mrs. Fletcher is
Tillie's executrix. Aha.

Mr., uh, Wilton here is a very
well-known antique expert from Boston.

Uh, Miss Hastings
is his assistant.

I've asked them both to come up to
help me with an appraisal of my goods.

Uh, correct me if I'm wrong,
but I seem to remember...

that you have a brother named
Wilton who sells antiques in Boston.

Now, Jessica, I do hope
that you're not implying that

my brother would deliberately
low-ball the estimate...

just to save a few
lousy dollars on taxes.

Well, I didn't. But now that you mention
it, the possibility deserves consideration.

Wilton, what an exquisite
chess set. Chess set?

Um, hmm. Japanese, 20th century,

with a value of... under $50.

Sold. That's the
wholesale price.

- It's not for sale.
- Now, hold on there, Benny.

Nothing is for sale yet, Seth.
We have some cataloging to do.

Well, all right, very well.

However, seems to me that's a
strange way to be doin' business.

Well, come on. What
do you think it's all worth?

Judging from what I've
seen so far, very little.

You tell them that.
Me, you tell the truth.

Benny, cheap knockoffs.

Early Salvation Army.

Well, that shows just how much
you two know about antiques.

You come along with me. I got
something that'll knock your eyes out.

All right. Gonna tell me this
came from Goodwill, are you?

A writing desk? Please, I have
dozens of these in my shop.

Right, Lauren? Very slow movers.

Fine. You haven't seen anything
yet. I got plenty more to show you.

Come on. All right.

An original Chippendale.
This is worth a fortune.

But we've sold original
Chippendales before.

Yes, but, darling,
this is a real original.

If we play our cards right, we
can make a killing in this house.

Wilton! Wilton, you get in here!

Now, you look at that,
huh? And you look at this.

And over here, look at
this. You look at this, huh?

Open your eyes, will you,
Wilton! Look at all— Stop!

Stop this! What are you
people doing in my house?

Your— Lady, I'm the heir. I
own all this stuff. Oh, yeah?

You're talking to
Tillie's only relative.

She left this rattrap to me, and I'm not
about to share it with the village idiot!

All I want is what's mine!

Liar! Liar! Pants on fire!

What you want is the treasure.

Treasure? What treasure?

Don't— Don't pay any attention to Emily.
Her machine's almost out of gum balls.

Yeah, you played up to that old lady,
and she told you about the treasure.

And you are just hoping
that it's in one of these boxes.

I don't care where it's at. If it's in
this house, it's mine! No way, lady.

Anything that isn't
nailed down is mine.

Liza, Benny, please!
Fighting's not gonna help.

Listen, dog meat, you
try and pick my pocket...

and I'll peel you like
an onion, layer by layer

till there's nothin'
left but a bad smell.

Well. I see the flower
children are growin' up.

What a charming
room. Oh, thank you.

Uh, what I don't
quite understand,

Mr. Andrews, is why Eve
Simpson sent you to me.

Oh, I'm sorry if I gave you that
impression. She didn't send me, actually.

I took it upon myself. I must
apologize for my impatience,

but I've been in Cabot
Cove for three days...

and I still haven't seen
the Benedict Arnold house.

Well, around here we call
it the Tillie Adams house.

Of course. I was in
contact with Tillie Adams.

As a matter of fact, she invited
me to visit her in the house.

Unfortunately, I
arrived too late.

Uh, forgive me,
Mr. Andrews, but, uh,

why are you so interested in a
house that you've never even seen?

Well, isn't the
house exactly, Mrs.

Fletcher, at least
not the structure itself.

It's the history of the place. Oh, yes, of
course. You mentioned Benedict Arnold.

Uh, a British hero, I
believe. Have a seat.

I've always been fascinated
by early American history.

I was a cryptographer
during the Cold War.

Worked very closely
with the Americans.

One of your New Englanders made a joking
reference to General Arnold's mistress.

And then, quite recently,

I came across a mention
of her house in an old book.

And you decided to come to
America and see for yourself.

My time's my own since my
wife passed away last year.

I'm engaged in writing a
book about Benedict Arnold...

from a completely
new perspective,

and I'd be prepared to make
a generous offer for the house.

Do you suppose that
I could see it... now?

Oh, dear, I hate to refuse
a budding author, but, uh,

well, I just couldn't let you see it
unaccompanied and certainly not after dark.

I'd welcome your
company, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, I'm sorry, but, you know, I
am so behind with my own writing...

that I can't possibly be
that far from my typewriter.

Yes, I understand.

I'm sorry to have intruded
on your time. Good night.

Uh, supposing I arrange for Eve Simpson
to show you the house tomorrow morning?

I mean, I think you'll find it
far more fascinating by daylight.

How very kind of you.

I hate to be a nuisance, but... I
just— I'm no good at waiting around.

♪

Come on. Give me some
numbers. Patience, Benny.

♪

Now, judging from what I saw in
the house, this is a fair estimate.

If anything, I
leaned in your favor.

Are you crazy? For a whole
houseful of antiques? Not antiques.

Old, but not old
enough. Sorry, Benny.

Your inheritance is a bad joke.

That's it, Wilton. You have
cheated me for the last time.

Go easy. Get out of here.
Just go back to Boston.

I wouldn't let you
handle this stuff if you

were the last antique
dealer in the world.

Well, there's more than
one way to skin a cat.

You know, I've heard
that all my life, and I

still don't know what
it means. Be careful.

You might find out.

I can only stay a
couple of hours.

Maybe not even that long if Mrs. Delfino
starts havin' her baby this morning.

Well, the door's open. I'm
sure that I locked it yesterday.

Door to the den's open too. Now I
know that was shut. I shut it myself.

Well, maybe Emily came
in again. Incidentally,

remind me to ask her
to return her key to me.

Seth!

It's Benny!

Jess, he's dead.

Yep, he's dead all right.

This must be the weapon.

- Amos, uh, fingerprints.
- Oh. Oh, good thinkin'.

I'd say death occurred
around midnight, give or take

an hour. Course, I'll have
to wait for the autopsy.

What do you suppose
Benny was doin' here anyway?

Knowin' Benny, I expect he
was lookin' for that treasure.

Well, being in front of the fireplace,
maybe he was lookin' up the chimney.

Amos, he was lookin' for
treasure, not Santa Claus.

And the killer grabbed the
poker and struck him down.

Actually, Amos, it could have
been the other way around.

I mean, Benny could
have come back here, found

someone who didn't
belong and challenged him...

And the killer grabbed up
the poker and struck him down.

And maybe the killer found
the treasure and made off with it.

Nothing in this room
has been disturbed,

and this is where
Benny found him.

No, I think it's more likely...

that he feared discovery after he
had killed Benny and fled the scene.

He? With that poker, anyone could
commit mayhem, even a woman.

As you will see, Mr. Andrews,
this is a remarkable old house.

Why do you suppose the ambulance
is outside and the police car?

Oh, it's nothing we need
to concern ourselves about.

Now, Mr. Andrews, I'm
sure I don't have to tell you...

about the historical significance
of this fine old building.

Yes, indeed. Oh, it's
in excellent condition.

It would make a splendid home
or a very rewarding investment.

Mrs. Adams was
quite elderly and frail,

and she couldn't maintain
its stunning simplicity.

But I'm sure you see the enormous
possibilities here for redecorating.

Careful, now, boys. That's not
a sack of potatoes you got there.

Oh. Oh.

Eve? Did we come at a bad time?

Oh, now that's what I'd
call an understatement.

Oh, Mr. Andrews, I forgot that
you were coming here this morning.

- I'm showing him the house.
- Sorry. Not today.

I have to seal off the den.
There's been a murder.

Did you say... a murder?

Well, that's terrible.
Now when can I show it?

After the men from the state police lab
have finished goin’ over the crime scene.

Yes, quite right.
I’ll just have to

see the original part of
the house another time.

Naturally, it's disappointing
after waiting so long.

Waitin' for what?

To get in touch with
history, Inspector.

- Mr. Andrews is deeply interested
in Benedict Arnold.
- That traitor?

Ha! Why would anyone care
two cents about a fella like that?

He's only a traitor in American
eyes. I hope to change all that.

Mr. Andrews is thinking
of buying this house.

If so, I shall have the house
dismantled and shipped back to England.

England? What for?

To have it reassembled, as
a shrine to Benedict Arnold.

A shrine?

Uh, Amos, uh, don't
you think you should get

the tape out of your
car to seal off the den?

Next thing you know we'll be
celebratin' Mussolini's birthday.

Mrs. Fletcher, I do apologize for being
so selfishly absorbed in my own concerns.

There's been a
terrible tragedy here. I'll

come back when it's
convenient. Miss Simpson?

Uh, Mr. Andrews, if you
don't mind waiting in the car,

I will be with you in one
minute. There's no rush.

Good day, Mrs. Fletcher.

Now, look, Jessica. This has
not been a good year for me.

I have overextended myself, and I
desperately need to sell this house.

Now, I know Andrew
sounds like a nut,

but he's a rich nut, and I
don't want to let him get away.

My life depends on it.
Can you understand that?

Of course I understand. Good.

Then try to make things a little easier,
for God's sake. Give me a little support.

And you too, Doctor!
Well, what did I do?

Nothing! Ohh!

How odd.

Odd? She's always
been like that.

You know, Seth, she never even
asked who had been murdered.

Say, that's right. She didn't
seem to care one way or the other.

Well, I don't know about you, but I'm
ready to stop on this inventory today.

Do you think Benny's
inheritance will be going to Kevin?

Probably. I'll get my clipboard.

Seth, the sampler is gone.

You said yourself
it wasn't very good.

No, but it was unusual. And
obviously it was important to someone.

I wish I'd looked
at it more closely.

Well, as I recall, there was a
picture of it in the Gazette last year.

Tillie stood in front of it on her 90th
birthday. I'll see if I can get you a copy.

Poor Tillie. I wonder how many
people will attend Benny's funeral.

Kevin. Hi, Lauren.

I just wanted to let you know
how sorry I am about your father.

It's really awful, losing
a— Well, a role model.

- I never thought of him like that.
- What are you gonna do now?

Well, I promised
Dad I'd fix this car.

Then I got a business to run.

It obviously hasn't sunk in yet.

Here you are, all
alone in the world.

Well, if there's
anything I can do to help.

Anything at all.

What about Uncle Wilton?

Oh, dear Wilton.

I'll always be grateful to him for
teaching me so much about antiques.

Now I'd like to teach
you. About antiques?

I'd just love to merge our
resources and our connections.

So this is where
you've been hiding, Kev.

How clever of you
to find him, Lauren.

If you don't mind, I'd like a
moment alone with my nephew...

to discuss business.

You know, Wilton, until this minute, I
didn't realize how much alike you two were.

Kevin and I? Benny and you.

I'd like to propose a way to
get around Eliza Doolittle. How?

I've made a bid on her house.

And with you as my partner, we'll
own it all, including the treasure.

What do you say to that?

I think I'm considering
another offer.

Good heavens!

Oh! Liza, what
have you got in here?

My dinner. Mung beans and rice.

I hope nobody called the volunteer
fire department. Sorry. I was meditating.

Liza, something happened
last night at Tillie's house.

A death. Benny Tibbles.
I heard it on your radio.

You know, you said some rather
harsh things to him. I meant every word.

Last night, a cold wind
blew in off the ocean.

I took some extra blankets out
to your tent, but you weren't there.

Well, yeah, I went for a walk. I do that
a lot, like, you know, when I can't sleep.

Hey, you think I
wasted him? No way!

I mean, I believe in,
like, the power of the

soul, and, like,
reincarnation, you know.

I won't even squish a cockroach,
'cause it could be Aunt Tillie.

And then this morning, I
stopped by the lawyer's office.

He said that you haven't
furnished him with any identification.

Well, like, I burned my birth
certificate and my passport in 1970...

when I declared myself
a citizen of the universe.

Well, do you have a
driver's license? Well, I

burned that in 1972. It
was an anti-pollution rally.

Any credit cards? Ha!
You gotta be kidding.

Oh, so I got no I.D. Does that make
me a non-person? No, it doesn't.

But it may make it difficult for you to
establish a legal claim to your legacy.

Like, I don't even
know if I want it.

So far this trip has
been a real bummer.

I gotta pig out on this stuff
before it turns—gets cold.

Come on. Let me— Let me
fix you something to eat here.

You can't eat that.
It's—It's—It's charcoal.

Well, I like it well-done.
Thanks for the use of the stove.

Hello. Oh, hello,
Eve. I just got in.

OH, Jessica, I am desperately in
need of your help. Well, what's wrong?

I have a meeting with a
second bidder on Tillie's house,

but Alastair Andrews insists on
seeing the rest of the house today.

- Could you possibly meet him
there in an hour?
- But it'll—it'll be dark by then.

Oh, he doesn't care.
The man is obsessed.

I would get down on my
knees and beg, but this is

my last good pair of panty
hose! Please, Jessica!

So far, this is the
only room I've been in.

I confess my curiosity's
getting the better of me.

Would you like to see upstairs?

Well, actually, my
keenest interest lies in the

original part of the
house, the old kitchen.

I believe it's been
turned into a study. A den.

Well, providing the crime tape
has been removed, which it has.

Oh, yes, of course. That's
where the murder took place.

Oh, excuse me.

Oh, it's you, Mrs. Fletcher.

I was just drivin'
past, saw the lights on,

thought maybe somebody
might be up to mischief.

Oh, so you, uh, rang the
doorbell? Had to. Didn't have a key.

Everything okay? Oh, yes. Mr. Andrews is
in the, uh, den, getting the feel of 1780.

Doesn't he know
his side lost the war?

Oh, Amos, come and say
hello. We're allies now, you know.

What's he doin'?

To think, Benedict Arnold
once stood in this very room.

I can still feel him here in the
woodwork, in the—the original brick.

Close your eyes... and
you can feel his presence.

I'd rather not.

- Oh, it's you, Inspector.
- That's Sheriff.

Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher,
for allowing me this moment.

I—I find it quite overwhelming.

I must rush back to my hotel room
and try and capture this feeling on paper.

- I'll walk with you.
- No, no need. I can find my way.

Quite selfishly, I
need the solitude.

You've been very
kind. Good night.

Good night, Mr. Andrews.

Sheriff. Night.

When Benedict Arnold starts comin'
out of the woodwork, it's time to go home.

I'll give you a lift.
Thank you, Amos.

There's no light switch here.
Oh, no. It's over by the bookcase.

Well, what's it doin'
way over there?

Well, when they wired some
of these old houses, they

had to run the wires in
some rather strange places.

I wouldn't give you a plugged
nickel for this squirrel cage.

Benedict Arnold.

Any news on the murder? Nope.

And it's sure got me stumped.

My men went all through this house and they
couldn't find any sign of a forced entry.

Now, it stands to reason that if
Benny used his key to get in here...

and the killer was already here,
then the killer had to break in.

Maybe the killer had a
key. Well, who had a key?

Eve Simpson, you— Emily Goshen.

Oh, Amos, you can't seriously
believe that Emily is involved.

Everybody knows
she's got sticky fingers.

Now, what if Benny caught her walkin' out
with that missin' sampler? Emily, a killer?

She might pilfer now
and then, but I can't

seriously believe that
she's a—that she's a thief.

Kevin, what's going—

Looks like we've
got ourselves a thief.

What have you got there?

Sorry to get you out of
bed, Mrs. Fletcher, but

I couldn't let Emily
spend the night in my cell.

What if I had to toss some
drunk in there? Wouldn't be fair.

To which one? I'm sorry.

I just don't function very well when
I'm awakened by sirens in the night.

Mrs. Fletcher! Don't tell me
they have arrested you too.

Emily doesn't function
too well without a siren.

No, Emily. Sheriff Tupper wants
to release you into my custody.

Emily, do you understand
why you've been arrested?

I can't say that I do.

You broke into the
shop and stole a brooch!

My mother gave me that
brooch. It was a family heirloom.

Emily, did you take
anything out of Tillie's house?

The trash— every Wednesday.

And what about the sampler
that was on the living room wall?

Next you will be asking
me if I killed Benny Tibbles.

- Did you?
- No!

And what would I want with that
old sampler? I couldn't understand it.

What are you talkin’ about,
Emily? It didn't make any sense.

The words on the sampler,
they didn't make any sense.

Can I go home now?

I had Hank over at the Gazette
blow up this part of the picture.

Though why you want to look at
that old sampler, I'll never know.

Because Emily is right.
The words don't make sense.

Look, it should be "Pause
and Reflect." It's backwards.

Yes, of course.

That's it. It is backwards.

That's the key. I need a mirror.

Reflect,

and then pause and
look at the reflection.

Now, you see, in these blocks...

the letters are the same
when they're reversed.

But in these blocks,
the letter change.

Capital "E" becomes a three...

- and the small "r"
becomes a seven.
- A-yah.

Yeah, seven, three, "B."
But what does it mean?

Three "B."

Now, Benny was found
dead in front of the fireplace.

Third brick.

Seventh row. Jess, are
we talkin' treasure here?

You've made a wise
decision, my dear.

I'll believe it when
I see the money.

Eve Simpson. OH, Jessica!

Jessica, I just now made a
mental note to let you know...

that Liza Adams decided to sell her house
to Wilton Tibbles at a very handsome price.

Congratulations, Eve. I know
how much that means to you.

Well, now, uh, I hate
to tell you my news.

I'm listening.
Well, you're right.

Oh, I should say you were right.
The house is about to fall apart.

And the building inspector
just called me. Oh.

And I'm sure he had something
terribly amusing to say about it.

Well, he—he said that the fireplace
in the den was in danger of collapsing,

if that strikes your funny bone.

Oh, how droll.

So, if you will, please, Eve,

tell all the interested
parties that the house will

be closed until the fireplace
is completely restored.

I'm sure that everyone will be
just as pleased as I am. Bye.

Bye.

Now that is what I call
tossin' the fat into the fire.

Looks like you were
right, Mrs. Fletcher.

How could you possibly know?

Best thing to do with that
brick is to put it on the table.

This really doesn't prove that I had
anything to do with the murder, you know.

Oh, I'm afraid it
does, Mr. Andrews.

You see, it proves you were in
the house on the night of the murder.

If you hadn't seen that sampler, you
wouldn't have known where to look.

You were frustrated at not
being able to see the house,

so you let yourself
in, as you did tonight.

You probably found the sampler

while you were looking
for the way to the den.

Being a cryptographer,
you recognized the simple

code at once and were
able to break it quickly.

Benny must have surprised you before
you had a chance to remove the brick.

He was a very excitable person.

The poker was close at hand,
and you used it to keep him quiet.

You must have felt certain that
you could return later, so you fled,

taking the sampler with you, making sure
that no one else could learn its secret.

A fanciful theory,
Mrs. Fletcher,

but I'm prepared to swear I knew
the location through other sources.

It won't wash, I'm afraid.
Then here's something that will.

Last night when I brought
you here, it was dark in the den.

I left you when the doorbell rang,
and you came into the dark room.

I had only taken a few steps
when the den lights flashed on.

It didn't occur to me until today that you
said you’d never been in this room before.

But it took you less than five seconds to
find an obscure light switch in the dark.

And the lights were
on when I came in.

A stupid mistake.

I was in too much of a hurry
to make sure it was still there.

The gold? Gold?

My God, do you really think I'd
take all these risks for mere gold?

I think the treasure that
Mr. Andrews was seeking is paper.

A letter from the past, I
suspect. Some sort of document?

Please, Sheriff, humor me.

I only want just one look at
the contents of that hiding place.

Well, I guess it can't hurt.

I am kind of curious
about it myself.

If my theory is correct, this document
will prove that General Arnold...

was under the direct orders
of George Washington...

when he surrendered
West Point to the British.

What does it say?

Well, who wrote it? Was it Benedict
Arnold or George Washington?

Benedict Arnold's mistress.

Hmm.

It's a rather angry account of how General
Arnold betrayed not only his country,

but his mistress, as well,
with one of her maids.

How ironic.

It seems that I, too, was
betrayed by Benedict Arnold.

Well, your idea to have Eve Simpson
call Alastair Andrews was a good one.

But I'm still sorry we didn't find
any real treasure in Tillie's house.

Well, different people have
different ideas about treasure. Hmm.

It's an advance present
on your next birthday.

Well, I wasn't...

Plannin' on celebratin'
any more birthdays, but, uh,

I am touched.

Now that we have the,
uh, niceties out of the way,

I'm gonna beat your socks off.

Your move.