Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 6, Episode 15 - The Fixer-Upper - full transcript
Actor Howard Griffin is written out of his TV series. Now the household income depends on his young wife, Jessica's niece Victoria Griffin. Alas, next she gets arrested as suspect of the murder of her client Deborah Tarkington. Deborah was selling her grand Beverly Hills residence but stipulated for her not to deal with Arnold Hastings, for whom the property was needed as part of a vast development project. Jessica helps LAPD detective Lieutenant Redick clear Victoria and work out how the real estate wheeling and dealing squares with the murder plot.
Vicky's a sweet little thing, but
totally over her head in real estate.
FEMALE NARRATOR:
Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.
Why did she have to get into
a profession that's so insecure?
Unlike acting.
Sweet little Victoria is a suspect
in the death of Deborah Tarkington.
Howard isn't a suspect.
I get to decide who
the suspects are.
The first sign of trouble,
you ran like a scared rabbit.
The man is a legend. I
wanted to meet his daughter.
The things I do
for an exclusive.
(HEART MONITOR FLATLINING)
Such a fine young man. I'm sure
he would have had a grand life.
I would have never
believed this new virus
could work so
fast and be so fatal.
Hey, wait a minute!
What's going on here?
Hey, look, I agreed
to do a hospital scene
because you promised
me a speedy recovery.
We all gotta go sometime.
Yeah, but in the next script
I'm on the road to recovery.
I guess you didn't get
the new pages, Howie.
Are you trying to
tell me that I'm fired?
I prefer to think
of you as dead.
Hey, but your wife's
in real estate, isn't she?
The way house prices are going,
it's practically a
license to steal.
You can't put a $3-million
ceiling on your offer
if you want something
decent in today's market.
My husband would kill me.
He thinks houses are overpriced,
and he says you real estate people
are out to gouge every last penny.
Let me guess, your
husband's a doctor.
You sure this is the
Errol Flynn house?
Pretty sure. It's on the
map here somewhere.
Errol Flynn, huh?
Boy, if these walls could talk.
Uh, excuse me.
I hate to disturb you, but
isn't this a beautiful home?
Oh, gorgeous.
Well, I was wondering, is
that your new Rolls-Royce
out front blocking the driveway?
Heavens, no.
No, I drive a Volkswagen Bug.
Real honey of a car.
Had it for 20 years.
Sorry.
Gonna be hard to sell, you know.
But the asking price is so low.
Relatively speaking, that is.
Can't even build
a tennis court here.
No resale value at all.
You blew it, kid.
Take it from an old pro, there's
always room for a tennis court.
Where, Didi?
Squeeze it in anywhere.
If only tennis courts didn't
have to be rectangular.
Why can't they be kidney shaped?
Yeah, I know, it's tough.
Look, next time, try
the fitness approach.
Fitness? Yeah.
Tell them the one
about the health nut
who dropped dead
playing doubles.
But the man did have his
heart set on a tennis court.
Honey, if you start worrying
what the buyer wants,
you're gonna starve
to death in this town.
Now, go find him,
make him feel guilty
for looking without
buying. Go ahead.
All right. You'll be fine.
Alec, it's not gonna work.
If she sees you
here... In this car?
Look, with these dark
glasses on and her eyesight,
she'll never know it's me.
Just go in and make the offer.
Look, there's gotta be a better
way than this. I mean, she'll know.
Arnold, you worry too much.
Just go in and
make the offer. Now.
(RINGS)
Deborah Tarkington.
Ah, Mrs. Griffin.
Mr. Hastings.
I believe you have the
listing on this property?
Yes, I do.
Well, I thought we might
talk about a full-price offer.
Really?
Hastings, out of my house!
Now, Deborah... Out! You
think I don't see that louse
sitting out there in that wreck?
But just listen...
Out, out, out, out!
But, Deborah, if you'd
just... If I ever, ever see
his dissipated face
of my property again,
I will turn the
dogs loose on him!
But if...
I hired you to sell my house
fast, but not to that jerk.
I thought that your
fresh-scrubbed innocence
might be a welcome change
from the sharks I
usually deal with.
But if you can't deliver a buyer,
I will find someone who can.
But he made a full-price offer.
Well, you check the fine
print on our agreement.
You will see that it says I will
sell to anyone except Alec Burton.
You know, if it were left up
to me, I'd sell it to anyone.
Mom knows who she
likes, and I know who I like.
Will you excuse me
for a moment? I... I...
I think I saw a
potential buyer outside.
Aunt Jess. Vicky!
How are you? I'm fine.
Good to see you. I'm so sorry.
I've been having
a little crisis.
Oh, nothing serious, I hope.
Not really. Just business.
I've been trying to sell
a house for $4.9 million.
For $4.9 million you
could buy Cabot Cove!
The house you're selling
must be a mansion.
Not really. But it is
a nice fixer-upper.
The trouble is, my
exclusive expires at midnight.
Oh, dear.
But where's Howard?
Oh, he had an audition
he couldn't miss.
Well, we'll be seeing each
other for dinner tonight.
We'll catch up on
everything then.
But I thought that Howard
had a steady job on a TV series.
Oh, he did.
He decided that he
wanted something livelier.
Howard loves acting so much.
Almost as much as he loves me.
Is that a problem?
No, really.
Whatever Howard
wants is fine with me.
I just don't know if I'm
ready for real estate.
Is anyone?
(PAGER BEEPING) Oh, dear.
Oh, Aunt Jess, I'm so sorry,
but I'm gonna have
to make a phone call.
Oh, don't apologize. I understand
the demands of business.
I have to meet a bunch of
booksellers this afternoon.
Okay, I'll be right
back. All right.
Why didn't you
stand your ground?
At the first sign of trouble,
you ran like a scared rabbit.
She threw me out.
Oh, Arnold, really.
There's no need to panic.
I mean, the property
hasn't been sold.
Nothing has been signed yet.
Just make sure when something
is, it's got my name on it.
Claire, light a fire under
your husband, please.
There goes commission
on nearly five million bucks.
I mean, I could
have had a new car.
For God's sakes, get rid
of that defeatist attitude.
Listen, as long as she
hasn't found another buyer,
anything is possible.
Now what are you taking?
Diet pills.
And you'll never guess
who turned me onto them.
Deborah Tarkington.
She's lost ten pounds.
If I could lose five,
I'd take arsenic.
Well, if you two girls
are such good buddies,
how come you can't wangle
her signature on a sales contract?
Arnold, sometimes you
amaze me how you insist
on keeping your
eye on the mudhole,
when it should be
on the shooting star.
Just what is that
supposed to mean?
Well, to put it another
way, you are content
to collect a couple of golden
eggs when, with a little ingenuity,
you could have the whole goose.
Cheers.
I don't understand, Mr. Gordon.
Everyone needs a house.
You decided to buy a yacht?
I see.
You figure you can sail around
the world for several years,
with a full crew,
and it'll still be cheaper
than a house in Beverly Hills.
Well, if you ever decide to live on
land again, you have my number.
Bon voyage.
Let's go fishing
sometime, darling.
Fishing? Yeah!
Oh, I'm a great fisherman.
But every time you get a nibble,
it's off the hook before
you can get it into the boat.
I'm sorry, Didi.
I guess I'm just a
lousy real estate agent.
The worst I've ever seen.
It's unheard of to
have an open house
on the last day
of your exclusive.
Half the people
there were brokers,
urging their clients to wait a
day to make an offer. Hmm?
Alec Burton made an offer through
Arnold Hastings of the full asking price.
I couldn't believe it when
Deborah turned it down.
She seemed so bitter.
Mmm. You don't know about that.
It happened before you were born.
You see, Alec Burton was
a young, ambitious actor
with no credits to speak of.
Deborah, daughter of movie
mogul Harry Tarkington,
pressured her father into
giving Alec his first break.
Guns of San Simeon.
It made him an overnight star.
Came the dawn, he dumped
Deborah like a two-bit stock option.
Well, that doesn't sound very
smart if her father was so powerful.
Her father? You
gotta be kidding.
That picture broke
all box office records.
The day Alec dumped Deborah,
Harry Tarkington signed
him to a three-picture deal.
And that, my dear, is showbiz.
(RINGING)
Precious Premises,
Victoria Griffin speaking.
Yes, I'm the little gal who's
handling the Tarkington estate.
Who is this, please?
(CHUCKLES)
This is Seymour Densch, the
hottest car dealer in Orange County.
Oh, you probably heard of
me. I do my own commercials.
I'm sorry, Mr. Densch,
I've never...
You know that open house at
the Tarkington estate? I was there.
I liked what I saw.
I want to buy it,
lock, stock and barrel.
The sticker is,
what, $4.9 million?
Yes, but...
Okay, knock off a mil, you
got a deal. I don't haggle.
Well, I'll have to
talk to the owner.
Sure, talk, talk.
But get back to me.
Call me at 555-4990.
If she says yes, I'll
need a binder check.
I'll do better than that.
I'll give you cash, all cash.
Listen, I gotta go. The customers
are beating down my door.
But where do you...
Look, look, look,
look, just nail it down.
The Tarkington estate, right
after I close here, 11:00 p.m.
Seymour Densch, I love you.
She's 30 minutes late.
You don't suppose
anything's happened to her?
Well, she may be busy.
You know, the exclusive listing
expires at midnight, you know.
No, I don't know. I've
asked her to stop telling me
about her exclusives
and her escrows
that cancel out
at the last minute.
Why did she have to get into
a profession that's so insecure?
Unlike acting.
Vicky told me at lunch that
you were out on an audition.
How did it go?
I was brilliant.
But they wanted someone taller.
Or was it shorter?
Fatter? I don't remember.
Well, at least I have my play.
Working for no money, of course.
It's a workshop,
which is a nice way
of saying none of
the actors get paid.
I don't know, maybe Victoria would
have been better off without me.
Oh, come now, Howard.
Don't force me to Dutch
uncle you. I'm only an aunt.
One thing I'm certain of, you
two are made for each other.
Hope you're right, Aunt Jess.
Howard.
Hi, honey!
You two must be
ready to kill me,
but I haven't got
time to be killed.
You're not gonna believe
what just happened.
I can't believe it myself.
Well, take a big, deep
breath and share it with us.
No time for breathing, either.
At 11:00 my guardian angel,
a car dealer from Orange County,
is meeting me at the Tarkington
estate with a cash binder.
Deborah accepted
his $3.9-million offer.
I've gotta get to my office and
type up the agreement right now.
Now?
I'm sorry, but I
thought the two people I
love the most in the
world would understand.
You do, don't you?
Of course we do!
Oh, yeah, sure.
What's the big
deal about a play?
Oh, Howard.
Honey,
I haven't forgotten about it.
I just can't see it on
the first night, that's all.
(CLEARING THROAT)
Well, that's the nice thing about a
workshop. There's always a second night.
Well, maybe Vicky can't go
to the play, but I certainly can.
Are you sure you want to?
Well, of course I do.
It's an allegory.
(STAMMERING) An
allegory? Well, what fun!
I can't apologize enough
for the special effects.
Oh, you almost have.
The rainstorm that
rejuvenates the corn crop
was supposed to be a light mist.
But something went
wrong with the plumbing.
I just hope you
didn't get too soaked.
Well, not as much as the
people in the two front rows.
They were drenched.
Oh, it looks as if you got a
message on the machine.
Maybe it's my agent.
I was wondering why he
didn't get to the play tonight.
(SPEECH SLURRED) Victoria,
dear, this is Deborah Tarkington.
I've just now realized this
buyer of yours is a real phony.
Is this some kind of a stall just
because the listing is running out?
It better not be,
because at midnight
the party's over, and you, my
sweet, turn back into a pumpkin.
Wasn't Vicky supposed to
meet that guy tonight at 11:00?
Well, apparently she
didn't get the message.
Well, I'm going
over there right now
to take Victoria away if I
have to drag her off physically.
Well, I'll go with you.
I don't want to miss
what may turn out
to be the best
play of the night.
Deborah?
Are you here?
Deborah?
(SCREAMING)
(DOOR CLOSING)
Howard?
Aunt Jessica, what
are you doing here?
What are you doing here?
And how come the lights are out?
I have a more
important question.
Freeze! Get your hands
in the air and don't move!
(CAMERA CLICKING)
So, Mrs. Griffin,
according to this, she
was dead when you arrived.
I already explained
it all to the others.
Well, the others
aren't real cops.
They're play cops.
I'm the real thing.
Humor me, explain
it again, please.
Well, I'm the real estate
agent for this property
and I thought we sold it.
I came here to meet the buyer.
There was no answer
when I rang the doorbell,
so I let myself in
with my key, and...
And then I found Deborah's body.
I arrived immediately
after with Jessica Fletcher.
I'm Victoria's aunt.
How convenient for everyone.
Lieutenant.
What have you got, Doc?
Well, I can't give
you the exact minute,
but she's been dead
less than two hours.
Well within the framework
of our mass arrival.
How do you account for
the bruise on the head?
Well, probably the fall when
the lady passed out. Passed out?
Well, we found a half dozen
of those amphetamine capsules
on the floor near the body,
a half-empty bottle
of Scotch nearby.
You tell me.
Lieutenant.
What?
Was there a pill bottle with
a prescription label on it?
No.
Ross, look for a prescription
bottle, amphetamine.
Check the bathrooms and
the nightstand in the bedroom.
There's something strange
here, Lieutenant. What?
Well, here is a
second bottle of Scotch,
also half-empty,
with another glass.
So?
Well, why would anybody
open another bottle
when the first one wasn't empty?
I mean, it doesn't
make any sense.
Mrs. Fletcher, in real life,
drunks don't always make sense.
We'll dust the second bottle
and the glass for prints, too.
Lieutenant, I found
Mrs. Tarkington dead.
Relax.
I'm just covering all the bases.
I mean, if the coroner comes
back with a verdict of hanky-panky,
I'll have to begin
somewhere, won't I?
Good morning.
Feeling better this
morning, Vicky?
Can't you tell how chipper I am?
Well, after last night, maybe
a good, strong cup of coffee
would be better than
going through the bills.
These bills have to be paid.
Vicky,
why don't you let me help you
and Howard over this hump?
It's very sweet of
you to offer, but no.
Taking money from
you would kill Howard.
His ego can barely deal with
the idea of his wife working,
let alone accepting
money from relatives.
Oh, by the way, is he up?
Oh, he's been up for hours.
He wanted to be
at his agent's office
as soon as it
opened this morning.
He's so worried
about his career,
he'll probably
take anything now.
(TELEPHONE RINGING)
Hello?
Yes, of course I
remember you, Lieutenant.
Meet you at your
office this morning?
Why?
This little caper is
beginning to come together.
Caper? Yes.
The more I learn,
the clearer it becomes.
And what have you
learned, Lieutenant?
About Mrs. Tarkington's
phone call to your niece,
threatening to take
away her exclusive listing.
A broker's commission
on $4 million
is certainly motive enough
to put you on the suspect list.
What did you do after
you received the call?
I didn't receive
it. I wasn't home.
My aunt told me about the
call after I found the body.
I'll tell you what you did.
You went there, you argued, you became
angry, and you hit her with something.
No!
Lieutenant, I thought that she
struck her head when she fell.
Yeah, well, it was
meant to look that way.
Our boys in the lab found
Mrs. Tarkington's prints
on one bottle of
Scotch, one glass.
The others by the
body were wiped clean.
I think it's highly unlikely that
Mrs. Tarkington got up after she fell
and wiped off her
own fingerprints.
Well, what about
the pills on the floor?
We found the empty bottle
upstairs in her bathroom.
Obviously, she walked
downstairs with them in her hand,
dropped a few when she
washed them down with the Scotch.
Now, why would I kill a
client who was going to pay me
a huge commission
for selling her house?
She had already
made up her mind.
By the way, where's
your husband?
He's supposed to be here, too.
Well, Howard isn't a suspect.
Mrs. Fletcher, I get to
decide who the suspects are.
Yes, but Howard was on stage
last night at the time of the murder.
So he says.
But I was there, with
the rest of the audience
and the cast from the play.
Mrs. Fletcher, I have
one very cold body,
two very warm suspects,
and until someone comes up
with something better,
your niece and her husband
get the bulk of my attention.
Now, why don't
you tell me all about
this so-called buyer
who never showed up?
Calm down, Mr. Yakamoto,
now, just calm down.
Now, listen, you're
offering what?
Three million. Is
that yen or dollars?
Well, no, I know the
dollar is a little bouncy,
but, I mean, after all, that is
what we use in this country.
Uh-huh.
You want to be a member
of the country club?
The only way you'll buy?
Hold on one second. I have an
urgent call coming in from Yemen.
I'll be right back.
Yemen?
Not that old "Hold for an
important phone call" gag?
Well, when it stops working,
I'll stop using it. Hold on.
I'll be right back with you.
Ah, Mr. Yakamoto.
Listen, things are really
happening fast here.
That was an Arab oil man,
and he just bid on the property.
Now, listen, it's
not a full-price offer,
so if you could authorize me
to make a full-price offer now,
the property won't get away.
Uh-huh.
Thank you very much.
And listen, stay in touch.
Bye-bye.
(LAUGHING) You're such a louse.
What did you just
unload, Arnold?
Oh, you know the Emerson
place up on Beverly Glen?
That dump?
A $3-million dump, Didi dear.
Mr. Yakamoto's gonna tear it down
and put something else in its place.
Probably some kind
of a Shinto shrine,
with overtones of
California stucco.
How lovely.
So.
So.
What brings Precious
Premises' number one saleslady
into the jaws of competition?
A desire to make a
career move maybe?
No, no, no, not exactly. Sweet
little Victoria has gotten herself
sideways with the law.
Your protégé? Mmm-hmm.
She's a suspect in the
death of Deborah Tarkington.
Well, what about the exclusive
listing on the Tarkington place?
Since I have an in
with sonny boy Kevin,
I might be able to grab onto it.
Well, how nice for you.
I might even bring
it to you, Arnold,
if the deal is right.
Now, why would I be interested
in the Tarkington estate?
You're interested because
Alec Burton is interested,
but you can't get an
exclusive and I can.
I'm not greedy, Arnold.
Never have been.
There's enough for both of us
in this if we split the commission.
Or do you have to go check
with your darling little wife?
You've got yourself
a deal, sweetheart.
I love it when you're macho.
I'm so sorry to bother you at a time
like this, but I was here last night,
and I think I might have dropped
my reading glasses in the confusion.
Well, I haven't
seen any glasses.
But if you'd like to come in
and look for them, that's fine.
Oh, thank you very much.
I won't take but a minute.
My niece did call and
tell you I was coming?
You must be the mystery writer
that the real estate lady
talks about all the time.
Yes, I'm afraid so.
Oh, this is a mess.
Those sloppy policemen, they got
fingerprint powder all over everything.
Oh, yes. You know, when
we were here last night,
apparently, you weren't here.
No, I wasn't here. I see.
And you were?
Out.
Out. Yes.
Yes, of course.
The police found amphetamine
capsules near the body.
Did Mrs. Tarkington
take them often?
Often enough.
I suppose she
had a prescription.
You ask an awful lot
of questions, don't you?
Forgive me for being so nosy, but
my niece is a suspect in the murder.
That nice woman?
Mrs. Tarkington took
these pills for her diet.
Her supply ran out,
and I was supposed to get
a refill of her prescription,
but I forgot until this morning.
Now it's too late.
Oh, there, there.
I know you're going to miss her.
Not likely. I hated her guts.
Well, then, why are you crying?
Because I've lost my job,
and the boy doesn't want
the likes of me around here.
But I can tell you...
Hello. I'm Kevin Tarkington.
Excuse me.
Do we have an appointment?
I took a chance
that we would meet.
Oh, of course you're
here about the house.
I'm at your service, Mrs...
Fletcher. I'm not a
buyer, Mr. Tarkington.
I'm so very sorry
about your mother.
But I must say, I'm surprised
that you're showing
the house today.
Were you a friend of mother's?
No, I'm Victoria Griffin's aunt.
Oh! Oh, that adorable one.
You can be proud
of her, Mrs. Fletcher.
Oh, I am.
Tell me, why are
you so eager to sell?
Did I give that impression?
Actually, I'm prepared to
let it go to the next bidder.
Mother was a
crazy sentimentalist.
One day she wanted to sell, and
the next day she'd change her mind.
Well, I suspect it was because
she was brought up here.
You know, stars, parties.
I'd much rather have a
beach house in Malibu.
Victoria tells me that
you're an only child.
The last of a
distinguished line.
Oh, then you'll get everything.
There is no
"everything." This is it.
And if you're implying that I might
have dispatched dear old Mom
to the hereafter for a few lousy
million bucks worth of real estate,
it's a reasonable
guess, but you're wrong.
I understand that the police were
unable to reach you after the murder.
I drove up the coast
to clear my head.
Oh. With someone who
can furnish you with an alibi?
I wasn't aware
that I needed one.
Mrs. Fletcher, why are you here?
My mother's death
doesn't concern you.
Curiously enough, it doesn't
seem to concern you, either.
I came here because I was
looking for these. But I found them.
Don't bother, I'll
see myself out.
Oh, Vicky.
Aunt Jess.
You're the last person
I expected to see here.
Well, who were you expecting?
I was hoping to find my guardian
angel, buyer Seymour Densch.
I need him to
corroborate my story,
and I haven't been able to
reach him at his business number.
Vicky, were you followed here?
No.
Why would anybody follow me?
Becoming a regular
hangout for you ladies.
Any new developments,
Lieutenant?
A few.
The autopsy showed
that Deborah Tarkington
had plenty of Scotch in
her system, but no pills.
The cause of death
was a severe concussion.
The result of a blow
delivered by a blunt object.
Oh, dear. We've identified
the murder weapon.
The fireplace poker.
The lab found traces of
Mrs. Tarkington's blood on it
along with Mrs.
Griffin's fingerprints.
I can explain.
You'll have every
opportunity to do just that.
I'm taking you in.
You're arresting
Victoria for murder?
Yes.
How can you hold her?
She told you she was alone
in the dark house with a body
and heard footsteps, so
she grabbed up the poker.
When she saw that it
was us, she put it back.
Yes, that's what she told me.
Well, don't you people
believe anybody?
Not too many
suspects who go around
leaving their fingerprints
on the murder weapon.
She didn't know it was the murder
weapon when she picked it up!
Howard, I think you
can help Vicky better
by finding a good lawyer.
Lawyer, right.
I'll get the best!
I can't afford the best, or even
the second best, or the 42nd best.
Well, don't worry
about that now.
Just find someone. Please?
I'll be back!
You can't do this to
Vicky. This is really absurd!
He's right, you
know, Lieutenant.
I mean, this is absurd.
From your side of
the desk, perhaps.
From my side, it's the only
thing that makes any sense.
You know, Lieutenant, if you're
such a believer in fingerprints,
why didn't you find any on the other
Scotch bottle and the other glass?
That should be obvious
to you, Mrs. Fletcher.
Your niece simply
wiped them off.
And not off the murder weapon?
I mean, if this doesn't
make any sense to you,
how is it going to
sound to a jury?
Hi. I'm Seymour Densch.
They told me to come right in.
I guess you're anxious
to see me, huh?
Please, sit down,
Mr. Densch. Mrs. Fletcher.
Yesterday, according
to Victoria Griffin,
you called and offered $3.9
million for the Tarkington estate.
Said you were going to meet her
at 11:00 p.m. with a bundle of cash.
Yeah, yeah. That's a binder.
Where did you plan
to get the balance
of the $3.9 million to
conclude the transaction?
From Alec Burton.
The movie star? Yeah.
Well, not exactly from him, if
you know what I mean, you know.
No, I don't know what you mean.
Numbers of that magnitude
have a tendency to elude me.
Who was going to give you
the money to buy the estate?
Arnold Hastings.
The realtor. Why?
Well, okay.
Well, for some reason,
Deborah Tarkington
would not sell the house
to Mr. Hastings because
Mr. Hastings was
fronting for Mr. Burton.
So, I fronted for both of them.
They paid me $10,000.
Now, that is not
to say that I did it
just for the money,
you understand.
And why exactly did you do it?
Why?
I was Harry
Tarkington's biggest fan.
I saw all his movies.
The man is a legend.
I wanted to meet his daughter, I
wanted to set foot in that house
and touch... The
place is a shrine.
I was a little late. By
the time I got there,
the place was swarming with
cops, so, I just went home. I left.
So you did come
to meet Victoria?
She did have a
reason for being there.
Oh, yeah, wait.
But, I mean, killing the old
doll, now, that was her own idea.
I had nothing to do with that.
I mean, I was supposed
to just come there
and buy the house from her.
But you were working
for this fellow, Hastings?
Yeah.
And not for Victoria Griffin.
That's what I
just said, didn't I?
Good morning, Victoria.
I thought you were
in the slammer.
I'm out on bail.
I want you to know
that not for a moment
did I think that you had anything
to do with mother's death.
Thanks, Kevin.
I appreciate that.
No need to put these away.
But my exclusive
listing has expired.
With mother. I have a house to
sell, and I really like your style.
Kevin, that's very
kind of you, but...
You know, when I first
saw you I said to myself,
"Now there is a woman who really knows
how to move a good piece of real estate."
Deal?
Deal.
Kevin, thank you.
You know, shaking hands is no
way for friends to seal an agreement.
Say, how about
over dinner tonight?
Oh, gee, I can't. Not tonight.
My husband's in a play.
And I thought that this
listing was important to you.
Was I mistaken?
Maybe you misinterpreted
his dinner invitation.
You know, sometimes we read
more into situations than is intended.
At his place, where he's
going to cook the spaghetti
because it's the
servants' night out?
Oh, dear. "Oh, dear," is right.
Where's Howard?
I sent him out on an errand.
An errand?
Well, he looked as if he was
about to jump out of his skin,
so I sent him to the
county tax assessor's office.
Tax assessor's?
Well, I had this sudden hunch,
and Howard volunteered
to follow through on it.
(DOOR OPENING) I've got it!
Howard.
(CLEARING THROAT)
Oh.
Jessica, you were
absolutely right.
That con artist is trying
to buy up Beverly Hills.
What con artist?
Alec Burton, if what I
suspect is in this envelope.
It's just as you thought.
The properties to the east and
west of the Tarkington estate
have been sold to Alec Burton.
So that's why he was so obsessed
with buying the Tarkington estate.
He's trying to put together
a mega estate of his own.
Exactly.
With Deborah Tarkington's
house as the centerpiece.
Makes you wonder how far Burton
would go to get the place away from her.
Yeah.
There is nothing illegal about these
purchases, Lieutenant, I can assure you.
The thing I'm a bit
fuzzy on, Mr. Burton,
is none of these properties
was sold directly to you.
They were sold to other
parties, and then acquired by you.
Can you explain that?
Well, if the owners had any idea
that I was trying to buy their properties,
the prices would
have skyrocketed.
So I left it up to my
broker, Arnold Hastings,
who acquired the properties
through intermediaries I approved of,
and then resold them
to me at the same price.
Which is the reason why you asked
Mr. Hastings to have Seymour Densch
purchase the Tarkington
property for you.
Seymour Densch?
Who's Seymour Densch?
You mean, you didn't approve?
I never heard of the guy, so I couldn't
very well approve of him, could I?
Let's discuss your
alibi, Mr. Burton.
Now, I spoke with the housekeeper at
the party where you and your realtors,
the Hastings, Claire and Arnold,
spent the evening
the night of the murder.
Contrary to what
Mr. Hastings said,
you did not stay
until the wee hours.
Matter of fact, you were
seen leaving about 11:00 p.m.
You're right, Lieutenant. I did leave
the party before 11:00 as a ruse.
It would have been simple for
me to slip out without being noticed,
but I went out of my way to
make sure that I was seen leaving.
May I ask why?
Because I immediately
came back for a certain
assignation with
the lady of the house,
whose husband was
preoccupied with the party.
I stayed till about 2:00.
So you and the lady of
the house were upstairs
in the bedroom while her husband
was downstairs with a
few hundred other guests?
Not the bedroom. It was
the servants' quarters
above the garage.
Honest to God?
Mmm.
Well, you were taking a hell
of a chance, if you ask me, pal.
Let me say I enjoy the
danger. It stimulates me.
I'd cadged a couple of pills
from Claire just to stay awake.
The party was so boring.
And then the lady slipped
me a note and a key.
It was the adventure
of the thing.
Claire may get a kick out of
these little red and yellow pills,
but to me, stimulation
is living on the edge.
What?
Oh, dear. What is it?
Lieutenant, would those red
and yellow pills be the same ones
that Deborah
Tarkington took? Yes.
Well, they're just
diet pills. So what?
You're onto something,
aren't you, Mrs. Fletcher?
Yes, I think that maybe I am.
Please, Kevin, just give me a
few hours to get through this.
Sure, Vicky, I can
wait a few hours.
We'll just do supper late.
But I told you, I'm seeing
my husband's play tonight.
Vicky, I'm very
disappointed in you.
I thought you were much more
flexible, if you know what I mean.
This is Vicky's husband.
If you ever come near her again,
I will personally eliminate
some of your favorite body parts,
if you know what I mean!
That's no way to
make it in real estate.
Hi.
Hi.
The grapevine says there's
a dinner invitation open here.
You wouldn't be tapping
my phone, now, would you?
Nothing that obvious.
I heard that Mrs. Griffin is
going to the theater tonight
with her aunt and husband.
But if I'm wrong about that
invitation, I'll say goodbye.
No, no, don't go.
How does spaghetti
marinara sound to you?
It's a special recipe, and
you can make the salad.
The things I do
for an exclusive.
I never made a salad in my life.
ARNOLD: Now let
me get this straight.
You are interested in
relocating to the West Coast?
Oh, yes.
I'm growing tired of those
cold Maine winters. Thank you.
After a few days here
in this lovely climate,
I've decided that I want
a house in Beverly Hills.
Ah, very, very
sensible, Mrs. Fletcher.
But why come to
us instead of your
delightful niece?
Well, Vicky's a
sweet little thing,
but totally over her
head in the world of,
well, high-ticket real estate.
I'm going to be in Cabot
Cove during the escrow,
and I need someone
experienced, competent,
hardheaded and thorough
who can handle things for me.
Well, you know, I
have sold property
to some pretty
heavyweight buyers.
Now, do you have a
specific house in mind?
Oh, yes, indeed.
I am simply enchanted
with the Tarkington estate.
Well, now, you do realize
the asking price is rather high.
Well, it might seem so for some,
but I've never believed that
the best things in life are free.
I mean, the more they
cost, the better they are.
Oh, my dear lady, I've
been telling my clients this
for years and years and years.
CLAIRE: Arnold.
Oh, good afternoon,
Mrs. Hastings.
What is that woman doing here?
My dear, this is Jessica
Fletcher, Victoria Griffin's aunt.
I know who she is. The
question is, why is she here?
Excuse us just a second.
Arnold.
To buy a house, darling.
Don't be a fool. Mrs. Fletcher's
niece is the prime suspect
in Deborah's murder.
She isn't shopping for houses,
she's shopping for suspects.
If you don't mind, darlings,
I'm bored with all that.
I want the Tarkington
estate, and I want it
settled before I leave
for Maine tomorrow.
You can't possibly be serious.
Oh, well, I'll tell you
how serious I am.
I'm prepared to offer ten
percent over the asking price
of $4.9 million.
But of course, if you have an
agreement with Alec Burton...
Oh, well,
I'd hardly call it an agreement,
and certainly not a contract.
Tomorrow will be
just fine, Mrs. Fletcher.
You'd be amazed at how quickly
things happen with the right impetus.
Mr. Hastings,
everything about your
operation amazes me.
Good morning.
Good morning, Kevin, dear.
What are you
doing here so early?
What time is it?
High noon.
We got some great news
for you, buddy boy. Oh, good.
I could use some,
after last night.
We've found a buyer
for your property.
Who? And how much?
Us.
The last offer was $3.9 million.
But I thought you were
Alec Burton's people.
Not when we're competing for
something that we dearly want.
Oh, Kevin, darling,
don't you see?
We've fallen in
love with your house.
Oh, dear,
after you promised it to me
for $4.9 million plus ten percent?
A tidy little profit on
a very crooked deal.
Kevin, I assure you, this
woman is absolutely mad.
Don't bother. I warned
you not to trust her.
Speaking of trust, you
violated Alec Burton's trust
when you paid Seymour
Densch to act as a stooge
without Mr. Burton's approval.
Hardly kosher, right, partner?
Mrs. Tarkington probably
found out, tried to make trouble.
So, what are you
saying, I killed her?
I couldn't have done it.
I was at the party, remember?
I went upstairs to the
billiard room to play pool.
I was up there until
about 1:00 or so.
Yes, but as Mr. Burton
pointed out, it was a huge party.
So it wasn't difficult for someone to
slip out and return later, unobserved.
Wouldn't you agree,
Mrs. Hastings?
Me? You think I killed Deborah?
Yes.
And I think after
you killed her,
you decided to make it look
as if she had accidentally
overdosed on stimulants and alcohol,
and then fallen and struck her head.
How clever, if true.
Which, of course, it is not.
Those pills found beside Mrs.
Tarkington's body couldn't have been hers
because her maid told me she
ran out of them that afternoon
and apparently was rather upset
because the maid forgot
to refill the prescription.
Now, if she had no more pills,
where did the pills on
the floor come from?
Your purse, Mrs. Hastings.
Your prescription bottle.
I think I should warn
you, Mrs. Hastings,
the autopsy showed
no pills in her system,
and we're having forensics
dust those found at the
scene for partial prints.
Claire.
Oh, Arnold, close your mouth.
You know what it's
like. Been all these years
working with the rich,
not being rich ourselves.
Not rich, rich.
You actually start to feel
that you're one of them.
And then one day you
wake up and you realize
that you're on a par with
their poodle's hairdresser.
Mrs. Hastings, why don't
you bring us all up to speed
and tell us what
really happened?
That idiot, Seymour Densch,
couldn't resist the
opportunity to see the house
and meet the infamous
Deborah Tarkington,
daughter of his idol,
Harry Tarkington.
So he used his offer on
the house as an entrée
and introduced
himself to Deborah.
Well, after five minutes she saw right
through him, and she called him on it.
Of course, he spilled his
guts before she tossed him out.
I guess that's when
she called Victoria
and left the message on her
machine that the deal was off.
Then she called
Arnold at the party
to give him a piece of her
mind, but I intercepted the call.
She was talking about fraud.
Now I told her to calm down,
that we would talk about it.
So,
I left the party and
I went to Deborah's.
She'd been drinking just enough to be
abusive, and nasty and very dangerous.
And when she went for
the phone to call the police,
I went for the fireplace poker.
I always was a good closer.
All right, thank you
very much. Bye-bye.
I've done it, Aunt
Jess. I've finally done it.
You've sold a house!
How wonderful!
I've found a buyer for
the Tarkington estate.
Once the paperwork comes
through from Kuwait, the house is sold.
And now maybe Howard can concentrate
on his play without any distractions.
The play closed.
Oh, dear.
How is Howard taking it?
He's not sure he
wants to act anymore.
He wants to try
something entirely new.
And a friend of his told him
about the wonderful opportunities
in the commodities market.
You know, buying and selling.
Well, buying and selling what?
Soybean futures and hog bellies.
Hey, listen you're
not gonna believe this.
I went on an interview
and got the job!
What kind of a job? Hog bellies?
No. Acting!
This advertising guy saw my
performance in the workshop
as the mushroom,
and he liked it so much,
he wants me to be
the spokesperson
for all his television
commercials.
I play a pineapple named Pepe.
But that's not acting.
No real actor would
play a talking pineapple.
The two things just
don't go together.
It's a job.
Well, what do
you think, Jessica?
Well, I think that
Vicky's wrong.
They go very well together.
What?
Ham and pineapple.
totally over her head in real estate.
FEMALE NARRATOR:
Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.
Why did she have to get into
a profession that's so insecure?
Unlike acting.
Sweet little Victoria is a suspect
in the death of Deborah Tarkington.
Howard isn't a suspect.
I get to decide who
the suspects are.
The first sign of trouble,
you ran like a scared rabbit.
The man is a legend. I
wanted to meet his daughter.
The things I do
for an exclusive.
(HEART MONITOR FLATLINING)
Such a fine young man. I'm sure
he would have had a grand life.
I would have never
believed this new virus
could work so
fast and be so fatal.
Hey, wait a minute!
What's going on here?
Hey, look, I agreed
to do a hospital scene
because you promised
me a speedy recovery.
We all gotta go sometime.
Yeah, but in the next script
I'm on the road to recovery.
I guess you didn't get
the new pages, Howie.
Are you trying to
tell me that I'm fired?
I prefer to think
of you as dead.
Hey, but your wife's
in real estate, isn't she?
The way house prices are going,
it's practically a
license to steal.
You can't put a $3-million
ceiling on your offer
if you want something
decent in today's market.
My husband would kill me.
He thinks houses are overpriced,
and he says you real estate people
are out to gouge every last penny.
Let me guess, your
husband's a doctor.
You sure this is the
Errol Flynn house?
Pretty sure. It's on the
map here somewhere.
Errol Flynn, huh?
Boy, if these walls could talk.
Uh, excuse me.
I hate to disturb you, but
isn't this a beautiful home?
Oh, gorgeous.
Well, I was wondering, is
that your new Rolls-Royce
out front blocking the driveway?
Heavens, no.
No, I drive a Volkswagen Bug.
Real honey of a car.
Had it for 20 years.
Sorry.
Gonna be hard to sell, you know.
But the asking price is so low.
Relatively speaking, that is.
Can't even build
a tennis court here.
No resale value at all.
You blew it, kid.
Take it from an old pro, there's
always room for a tennis court.
Where, Didi?
Squeeze it in anywhere.
If only tennis courts didn't
have to be rectangular.
Why can't they be kidney shaped?
Yeah, I know, it's tough.
Look, next time, try
the fitness approach.
Fitness? Yeah.
Tell them the one
about the health nut
who dropped dead
playing doubles.
But the man did have his
heart set on a tennis court.
Honey, if you start worrying
what the buyer wants,
you're gonna starve
to death in this town.
Now, go find him,
make him feel guilty
for looking without
buying. Go ahead.
All right. You'll be fine.
Alec, it's not gonna work.
If she sees you
here... In this car?
Look, with these dark
glasses on and her eyesight,
she'll never know it's me.
Just go in and make the offer.
Look, there's gotta be a better
way than this. I mean, she'll know.
Arnold, you worry too much.
Just go in and
make the offer. Now.
(RINGS)
Deborah Tarkington.
Ah, Mrs. Griffin.
Mr. Hastings.
I believe you have the
listing on this property?
Yes, I do.
Well, I thought we might
talk about a full-price offer.
Really?
Hastings, out of my house!
Now, Deborah... Out! You
think I don't see that louse
sitting out there in that wreck?
But just listen...
Out, out, out, out!
But, Deborah, if you'd
just... If I ever, ever see
his dissipated face
of my property again,
I will turn the
dogs loose on him!
But if...
I hired you to sell my house
fast, but not to that jerk.
I thought that your
fresh-scrubbed innocence
might be a welcome change
from the sharks I
usually deal with.
But if you can't deliver a buyer,
I will find someone who can.
But he made a full-price offer.
Well, you check the fine
print on our agreement.
You will see that it says I will
sell to anyone except Alec Burton.
You know, if it were left up
to me, I'd sell it to anyone.
Mom knows who she
likes, and I know who I like.
Will you excuse me
for a moment? I... I...
I think I saw a
potential buyer outside.
Aunt Jess. Vicky!
How are you? I'm fine.
Good to see you. I'm so sorry.
I've been having
a little crisis.
Oh, nothing serious, I hope.
Not really. Just business.
I've been trying to sell
a house for $4.9 million.
For $4.9 million you
could buy Cabot Cove!
The house you're selling
must be a mansion.
Not really. But it is
a nice fixer-upper.
The trouble is, my
exclusive expires at midnight.
Oh, dear.
But where's Howard?
Oh, he had an audition
he couldn't miss.
Well, we'll be seeing each
other for dinner tonight.
We'll catch up on
everything then.
But I thought that Howard
had a steady job on a TV series.
Oh, he did.
He decided that he
wanted something livelier.
Howard loves acting so much.
Almost as much as he loves me.
Is that a problem?
No, really.
Whatever Howard
wants is fine with me.
I just don't know if I'm
ready for real estate.
Is anyone?
(PAGER BEEPING) Oh, dear.
Oh, Aunt Jess, I'm so sorry,
but I'm gonna have
to make a phone call.
Oh, don't apologize. I understand
the demands of business.
I have to meet a bunch of
booksellers this afternoon.
Okay, I'll be right
back. All right.
Why didn't you
stand your ground?
At the first sign of trouble,
you ran like a scared rabbit.
She threw me out.
Oh, Arnold, really.
There's no need to panic.
I mean, the property
hasn't been sold.
Nothing has been signed yet.
Just make sure when something
is, it's got my name on it.
Claire, light a fire under
your husband, please.
There goes commission
on nearly five million bucks.
I mean, I could
have had a new car.
For God's sakes, get rid
of that defeatist attitude.
Listen, as long as she
hasn't found another buyer,
anything is possible.
Now what are you taking?
Diet pills.
And you'll never guess
who turned me onto them.
Deborah Tarkington.
She's lost ten pounds.
If I could lose five,
I'd take arsenic.
Well, if you two girls
are such good buddies,
how come you can't wangle
her signature on a sales contract?
Arnold, sometimes you
amaze me how you insist
on keeping your
eye on the mudhole,
when it should be
on the shooting star.
Just what is that
supposed to mean?
Well, to put it another
way, you are content
to collect a couple of golden
eggs when, with a little ingenuity,
you could have the whole goose.
Cheers.
I don't understand, Mr. Gordon.
Everyone needs a house.
You decided to buy a yacht?
I see.
You figure you can sail around
the world for several years,
with a full crew,
and it'll still be cheaper
than a house in Beverly Hills.
Well, if you ever decide to live on
land again, you have my number.
Bon voyage.
Let's go fishing
sometime, darling.
Fishing? Yeah!
Oh, I'm a great fisherman.
But every time you get a nibble,
it's off the hook before
you can get it into the boat.
I'm sorry, Didi.
I guess I'm just a
lousy real estate agent.
The worst I've ever seen.
It's unheard of to
have an open house
on the last day
of your exclusive.
Half the people
there were brokers,
urging their clients to wait a
day to make an offer. Hmm?
Alec Burton made an offer through
Arnold Hastings of the full asking price.
I couldn't believe it when
Deborah turned it down.
She seemed so bitter.
Mmm. You don't know about that.
It happened before you were born.
You see, Alec Burton was
a young, ambitious actor
with no credits to speak of.
Deborah, daughter of movie
mogul Harry Tarkington,
pressured her father into
giving Alec his first break.
Guns of San Simeon.
It made him an overnight star.
Came the dawn, he dumped
Deborah like a two-bit stock option.
Well, that doesn't sound very
smart if her father was so powerful.
Her father? You
gotta be kidding.
That picture broke
all box office records.
The day Alec dumped Deborah,
Harry Tarkington signed
him to a three-picture deal.
And that, my dear, is showbiz.
(RINGING)
Precious Premises,
Victoria Griffin speaking.
Yes, I'm the little gal who's
handling the Tarkington estate.
Who is this, please?
(CHUCKLES)
This is Seymour Densch, the
hottest car dealer in Orange County.
Oh, you probably heard of
me. I do my own commercials.
I'm sorry, Mr. Densch,
I've never...
You know that open house at
the Tarkington estate? I was there.
I liked what I saw.
I want to buy it,
lock, stock and barrel.
The sticker is,
what, $4.9 million?
Yes, but...
Okay, knock off a mil, you
got a deal. I don't haggle.
Well, I'll have to
talk to the owner.
Sure, talk, talk.
But get back to me.
Call me at 555-4990.
If she says yes, I'll
need a binder check.
I'll do better than that.
I'll give you cash, all cash.
Listen, I gotta go. The customers
are beating down my door.
But where do you...
Look, look, look,
look, just nail it down.
The Tarkington estate, right
after I close here, 11:00 p.m.
Seymour Densch, I love you.
She's 30 minutes late.
You don't suppose
anything's happened to her?
Well, she may be busy.
You know, the exclusive listing
expires at midnight, you know.
No, I don't know. I've
asked her to stop telling me
about her exclusives
and her escrows
that cancel out
at the last minute.
Why did she have to get into
a profession that's so insecure?
Unlike acting.
Vicky told me at lunch that
you were out on an audition.
How did it go?
I was brilliant.
But they wanted someone taller.
Or was it shorter?
Fatter? I don't remember.
Well, at least I have my play.
Working for no money, of course.
It's a workshop,
which is a nice way
of saying none of
the actors get paid.
I don't know, maybe Victoria would
have been better off without me.
Oh, come now, Howard.
Don't force me to Dutch
uncle you. I'm only an aunt.
One thing I'm certain of, you
two are made for each other.
Hope you're right, Aunt Jess.
Howard.
Hi, honey!
You two must be
ready to kill me,
but I haven't got
time to be killed.
You're not gonna believe
what just happened.
I can't believe it myself.
Well, take a big, deep
breath and share it with us.
No time for breathing, either.
At 11:00 my guardian angel,
a car dealer from Orange County,
is meeting me at the Tarkington
estate with a cash binder.
Deborah accepted
his $3.9-million offer.
I've gotta get to my office and
type up the agreement right now.
Now?
I'm sorry, but I
thought the two people I
love the most in the
world would understand.
You do, don't you?
Of course we do!
Oh, yeah, sure.
What's the big
deal about a play?
Oh, Howard.
Honey,
I haven't forgotten about it.
I just can't see it on
the first night, that's all.
(CLEARING THROAT)
Well, that's the nice thing about a
workshop. There's always a second night.
Well, maybe Vicky can't go
to the play, but I certainly can.
Are you sure you want to?
Well, of course I do.
It's an allegory.
(STAMMERING) An
allegory? Well, what fun!
I can't apologize enough
for the special effects.
Oh, you almost have.
The rainstorm that
rejuvenates the corn crop
was supposed to be a light mist.
But something went
wrong with the plumbing.
I just hope you
didn't get too soaked.
Well, not as much as the
people in the two front rows.
They were drenched.
Oh, it looks as if you got a
message on the machine.
Maybe it's my agent.
I was wondering why he
didn't get to the play tonight.
(SPEECH SLURRED) Victoria,
dear, this is Deborah Tarkington.
I've just now realized this
buyer of yours is a real phony.
Is this some kind of a stall just
because the listing is running out?
It better not be,
because at midnight
the party's over, and you, my
sweet, turn back into a pumpkin.
Wasn't Vicky supposed to
meet that guy tonight at 11:00?
Well, apparently she
didn't get the message.
Well, I'm going
over there right now
to take Victoria away if I
have to drag her off physically.
Well, I'll go with you.
I don't want to miss
what may turn out
to be the best
play of the night.
Deborah?
Are you here?
Deborah?
(SCREAMING)
(DOOR CLOSING)
Howard?
Aunt Jessica, what
are you doing here?
What are you doing here?
And how come the lights are out?
I have a more
important question.
Freeze! Get your hands
in the air and don't move!
(CAMERA CLICKING)
So, Mrs. Griffin,
according to this, she
was dead when you arrived.
I already explained
it all to the others.
Well, the others
aren't real cops.
They're play cops.
I'm the real thing.
Humor me, explain
it again, please.
Well, I'm the real estate
agent for this property
and I thought we sold it.
I came here to meet the buyer.
There was no answer
when I rang the doorbell,
so I let myself in
with my key, and...
And then I found Deborah's body.
I arrived immediately
after with Jessica Fletcher.
I'm Victoria's aunt.
How convenient for everyone.
Lieutenant.
What have you got, Doc?
Well, I can't give
you the exact minute,
but she's been dead
less than two hours.
Well within the framework
of our mass arrival.
How do you account for
the bruise on the head?
Well, probably the fall when
the lady passed out. Passed out?
Well, we found a half dozen
of those amphetamine capsules
on the floor near the body,
a half-empty bottle
of Scotch nearby.
You tell me.
Lieutenant.
What?
Was there a pill bottle with
a prescription label on it?
No.
Ross, look for a prescription
bottle, amphetamine.
Check the bathrooms and
the nightstand in the bedroom.
There's something strange
here, Lieutenant. What?
Well, here is a
second bottle of Scotch,
also half-empty,
with another glass.
So?
Well, why would anybody
open another bottle
when the first one wasn't empty?
I mean, it doesn't
make any sense.
Mrs. Fletcher, in real life,
drunks don't always make sense.
We'll dust the second bottle
and the glass for prints, too.
Lieutenant, I found
Mrs. Tarkington dead.
Relax.
I'm just covering all the bases.
I mean, if the coroner comes
back with a verdict of hanky-panky,
I'll have to begin
somewhere, won't I?
Good morning.
Feeling better this
morning, Vicky?
Can't you tell how chipper I am?
Well, after last night, maybe
a good, strong cup of coffee
would be better than
going through the bills.
These bills have to be paid.
Vicky,
why don't you let me help you
and Howard over this hump?
It's very sweet of
you to offer, but no.
Taking money from
you would kill Howard.
His ego can barely deal with
the idea of his wife working,
let alone accepting
money from relatives.
Oh, by the way, is he up?
Oh, he's been up for hours.
He wanted to be
at his agent's office
as soon as it
opened this morning.
He's so worried
about his career,
he'll probably
take anything now.
(TELEPHONE RINGING)
Hello?
Yes, of course I
remember you, Lieutenant.
Meet you at your
office this morning?
Why?
This little caper is
beginning to come together.
Caper? Yes.
The more I learn,
the clearer it becomes.
And what have you
learned, Lieutenant?
About Mrs. Tarkington's
phone call to your niece,
threatening to take
away her exclusive listing.
A broker's commission
on $4 million
is certainly motive enough
to put you on the suspect list.
What did you do after
you received the call?
I didn't receive
it. I wasn't home.
My aunt told me about the
call after I found the body.
I'll tell you what you did.
You went there, you argued, you became
angry, and you hit her with something.
No!
Lieutenant, I thought that she
struck her head when she fell.
Yeah, well, it was
meant to look that way.
Our boys in the lab found
Mrs. Tarkington's prints
on one bottle of
Scotch, one glass.
The others by the
body were wiped clean.
I think it's highly unlikely that
Mrs. Tarkington got up after she fell
and wiped off her
own fingerprints.
Well, what about
the pills on the floor?
We found the empty bottle
upstairs in her bathroom.
Obviously, she walked
downstairs with them in her hand,
dropped a few when she
washed them down with the Scotch.
Now, why would I kill a
client who was going to pay me
a huge commission
for selling her house?
She had already
made up her mind.
By the way, where's
your husband?
He's supposed to be here, too.
Well, Howard isn't a suspect.
Mrs. Fletcher, I get to
decide who the suspects are.
Yes, but Howard was on stage
last night at the time of the murder.
So he says.
But I was there, with
the rest of the audience
and the cast from the play.
Mrs. Fletcher, I have
one very cold body,
two very warm suspects,
and until someone comes up
with something better,
your niece and her husband
get the bulk of my attention.
Now, why don't
you tell me all about
this so-called buyer
who never showed up?
Calm down, Mr. Yakamoto,
now, just calm down.
Now, listen, you're
offering what?
Three million. Is
that yen or dollars?
Well, no, I know the
dollar is a little bouncy,
but, I mean, after all, that is
what we use in this country.
Uh-huh.
You want to be a member
of the country club?
The only way you'll buy?
Hold on one second. I have an
urgent call coming in from Yemen.
I'll be right back.
Yemen?
Not that old "Hold for an
important phone call" gag?
Well, when it stops working,
I'll stop using it. Hold on.
I'll be right back with you.
Ah, Mr. Yakamoto.
Listen, things are really
happening fast here.
That was an Arab oil man,
and he just bid on the property.
Now, listen, it's
not a full-price offer,
so if you could authorize me
to make a full-price offer now,
the property won't get away.
Uh-huh.
Thank you very much.
And listen, stay in touch.
Bye-bye.
(LAUGHING) You're such a louse.
What did you just
unload, Arnold?
Oh, you know the Emerson
place up on Beverly Glen?
That dump?
A $3-million dump, Didi dear.
Mr. Yakamoto's gonna tear it down
and put something else in its place.
Probably some kind
of a Shinto shrine,
with overtones of
California stucco.
How lovely.
So.
So.
What brings Precious
Premises' number one saleslady
into the jaws of competition?
A desire to make a
career move maybe?
No, no, no, not exactly. Sweet
little Victoria has gotten herself
sideways with the law.
Your protégé? Mmm-hmm.
She's a suspect in the
death of Deborah Tarkington.
Well, what about the exclusive
listing on the Tarkington place?
Since I have an in
with sonny boy Kevin,
I might be able to grab onto it.
Well, how nice for you.
I might even bring
it to you, Arnold,
if the deal is right.
Now, why would I be interested
in the Tarkington estate?
You're interested because
Alec Burton is interested,
but you can't get an
exclusive and I can.
I'm not greedy, Arnold.
Never have been.
There's enough for both of us
in this if we split the commission.
Or do you have to go check
with your darling little wife?
You've got yourself
a deal, sweetheart.
I love it when you're macho.
I'm so sorry to bother you at a time
like this, but I was here last night,
and I think I might have dropped
my reading glasses in the confusion.
Well, I haven't
seen any glasses.
But if you'd like to come in
and look for them, that's fine.
Oh, thank you very much.
I won't take but a minute.
My niece did call and
tell you I was coming?
You must be the mystery writer
that the real estate lady
talks about all the time.
Yes, I'm afraid so.
Oh, this is a mess.
Those sloppy policemen, they got
fingerprint powder all over everything.
Oh, yes. You know, when
we were here last night,
apparently, you weren't here.
No, I wasn't here. I see.
And you were?
Out.
Out. Yes.
Yes, of course.
The police found amphetamine
capsules near the body.
Did Mrs. Tarkington
take them often?
Often enough.
I suppose she
had a prescription.
You ask an awful lot
of questions, don't you?
Forgive me for being so nosy, but
my niece is a suspect in the murder.
That nice woman?
Mrs. Tarkington took
these pills for her diet.
Her supply ran out,
and I was supposed to get
a refill of her prescription,
but I forgot until this morning.
Now it's too late.
Oh, there, there.
I know you're going to miss her.
Not likely. I hated her guts.
Well, then, why are you crying?
Because I've lost my job,
and the boy doesn't want
the likes of me around here.
But I can tell you...
Hello. I'm Kevin Tarkington.
Excuse me.
Do we have an appointment?
I took a chance
that we would meet.
Oh, of course you're
here about the house.
I'm at your service, Mrs...
Fletcher. I'm not a
buyer, Mr. Tarkington.
I'm so very sorry
about your mother.
But I must say, I'm surprised
that you're showing
the house today.
Were you a friend of mother's?
No, I'm Victoria Griffin's aunt.
Oh! Oh, that adorable one.
You can be proud
of her, Mrs. Fletcher.
Oh, I am.
Tell me, why are
you so eager to sell?
Did I give that impression?
Actually, I'm prepared to
let it go to the next bidder.
Mother was a
crazy sentimentalist.
One day she wanted to sell, and
the next day she'd change her mind.
Well, I suspect it was because
she was brought up here.
You know, stars, parties.
I'd much rather have a
beach house in Malibu.
Victoria tells me that
you're an only child.
The last of a
distinguished line.
Oh, then you'll get everything.
There is no
"everything." This is it.
And if you're implying that I might
have dispatched dear old Mom
to the hereafter for a few lousy
million bucks worth of real estate,
it's a reasonable
guess, but you're wrong.
I understand that the police were
unable to reach you after the murder.
I drove up the coast
to clear my head.
Oh. With someone who
can furnish you with an alibi?
I wasn't aware
that I needed one.
Mrs. Fletcher, why are you here?
My mother's death
doesn't concern you.
Curiously enough, it doesn't
seem to concern you, either.
I came here because I was
looking for these. But I found them.
Don't bother, I'll
see myself out.
Oh, Vicky.
Aunt Jess.
You're the last person
I expected to see here.
Well, who were you expecting?
I was hoping to find my guardian
angel, buyer Seymour Densch.
I need him to
corroborate my story,
and I haven't been able to
reach him at his business number.
Vicky, were you followed here?
No.
Why would anybody follow me?
Becoming a regular
hangout for you ladies.
Any new developments,
Lieutenant?
A few.
The autopsy showed
that Deborah Tarkington
had plenty of Scotch in
her system, but no pills.
The cause of death
was a severe concussion.
The result of a blow
delivered by a blunt object.
Oh, dear. We've identified
the murder weapon.
The fireplace poker.
The lab found traces of
Mrs. Tarkington's blood on it
along with Mrs.
Griffin's fingerprints.
I can explain.
You'll have every
opportunity to do just that.
I'm taking you in.
You're arresting
Victoria for murder?
Yes.
How can you hold her?
She told you she was alone
in the dark house with a body
and heard footsteps, so
she grabbed up the poker.
When she saw that it
was us, she put it back.
Yes, that's what she told me.
Well, don't you people
believe anybody?
Not too many
suspects who go around
leaving their fingerprints
on the murder weapon.
She didn't know it was the murder
weapon when she picked it up!
Howard, I think you
can help Vicky better
by finding a good lawyer.
Lawyer, right.
I'll get the best!
I can't afford the best, or even
the second best, or the 42nd best.
Well, don't worry
about that now.
Just find someone. Please?
I'll be back!
You can't do this to
Vicky. This is really absurd!
He's right, you
know, Lieutenant.
I mean, this is absurd.
From your side of
the desk, perhaps.
From my side, it's the only
thing that makes any sense.
You know, Lieutenant, if you're
such a believer in fingerprints,
why didn't you find any on the other
Scotch bottle and the other glass?
That should be obvious
to you, Mrs. Fletcher.
Your niece simply
wiped them off.
And not off the murder weapon?
I mean, if this doesn't
make any sense to you,
how is it going to
sound to a jury?
Hi. I'm Seymour Densch.
They told me to come right in.
I guess you're anxious
to see me, huh?
Please, sit down,
Mr. Densch. Mrs. Fletcher.
Yesterday, according
to Victoria Griffin,
you called and offered $3.9
million for the Tarkington estate.
Said you were going to meet her
at 11:00 p.m. with a bundle of cash.
Yeah, yeah. That's a binder.
Where did you plan
to get the balance
of the $3.9 million to
conclude the transaction?
From Alec Burton.
The movie star? Yeah.
Well, not exactly from him, if
you know what I mean, you know.
No, I don't know what you mean.
Numbers of that magnitude
have a tendency to elude me.
Who was going to give you
the money to buy the estate?
Arnold Hastings.
The realtor. Why?
Well, okay.
Well, for some reason,
Deborah Tarkington
would not sell the house
to Mr. Hastings because
Mr. Hastings was
fronting for Mr. Burton.
So, I fronted for both of them.
They paid me $10,000.
Now, that is not
to say that I did it
just for the money,
you understand.
And why exactly did you do it?
Why?
I was Harry
Tarkington's biggest fan.
I saw all his movies.
The man is a legend.
I wanted to meet his daughter, I
wanted to set foot in that house
and touch... The
place is a shrine.
I was a little late. By
the time I got there,
the place was swarming with
cops, so, I just went home. I left.
So you did come
to meet Victoria?
She did have a
reason for being there.
Oh, yeah, wait.
But, I mean, killing the old
doll, now, that was her own idea.
I had nothing to do with that.
I mean, I was supposed
to just come there
and buy the house from her.
But you were working
for this fellow, Hastings?
Yeah.
And not for Victoria Griffin.
That's what I
just said, didn't I?
Good morning, Victoria.
I thought you were
in the slammer.
I'm out on bail.
I want you to know
that not for a moment
did I think that you had anything
to do with mother's death.
Thanks, Kevin.
I appreciate that.
No need to put these away.
But my exclusive
listing has expired.
With mother. I have a house to
sell, and I really like your style.
Kevin, that's very
kind of you, but...
You know, when I first
saw you I said to myself,
"Now there is a woman who really knows
how to move a good piece of real estate."
Deal?
Deal.
Kevin, thank you.
You know, shaking hands is no
way for friends to seal an agreement.
Say, how about
over dinner tonight?
Oh, gee, I can't. Not tonight.
My husband's in a play.
And I thought that this
listing was important to you.
Was I mistaken?
Maybe you misinterpreted
his dinner invitation.
You know, sometimes we read
more into situations than is intended.
At his place, where he's
going to cook the spaghetti
because it's the
servants' night out?
Oh, dear. "Oh, dear," is right.
Where's Howard?
I sent him out on an errand.
An errand?
Well, he looked as if he was
about to jump out of his skin,
so I sent him to the
county tax assessor's office.
Tax assessor's?
Well, I had this sudden hunch,
and Howard volunteered
to follow through on it.
(DOOR OPENING) I've got it!
Howard.
(CLEARING THROAT)
Oh.
Jessica, you were
absolutely right.
That con artist is trying
to buy up Beverly Hills.
What con artist?
Alec Burton, if what I
suspect is in this envelope.
It's just as you thought.
The properties to the east and
west of the Tarkington estate
have been sold to Alec Burton.
So that's why he was so obsessed
with buying the Tarkington estate.
He's trying to put together
a mega estate of his own.
Exactly.
With Deborah Tarkington's
house as the centerpiece.
Makes you wonder how far Burton
would go to get the place away from her.
Yeah.
There is nothing illegal about these
purchases, Lieutenant, I can assure you.
The thing I'm a bit
fuzzy on, Mr. Burton,
is none of these properties
was sold directly to you.
They were sold to other
parties, and then acquired by you.
Can you explain that?
Well, if the owners had any idea
that I was trying to buy their properties,
the prices would
have skyrocketed.
So I left it up to my
broker, Arnold Hastings,
who acquired the properties
through intermediaries I approved of,
and then resold them
to me at the same price.
Which is the reason why you asked
Mr. Hastings to have Seymour Densch
purchase the Tarkington
property for you.
Seymour Densch?
Who's Seymour Densch?
You mean, you didn't approve?
I never heard of the guy, so I couldn't
very well approve of him, could I?
Let's discuss your
alibi, Mr. Burton.
Now, I spoke with the housekeeper at
the party where you and your realtors,
the Hastings, Claire and Arnold,
spent the evening
the night of the murder.
Contrary to what
Mr. Hastings said,
you did not stay
until the wee hours.
Matter of fact, you were
seen leaving about 11:00 p.m.
You're right, Lieutenant. I did leave
the party before 11:00 as a ruse.
It would have been simple for
me to slip out without being noticed,
but I went out of my way to
make sure that I was seen leaving.
May I ask why?
Because I immediately
came back for a certain
assignation with
the lady of the house,
whose husband was
preoccupied with the party.
I stayed till about 2:00.
So you and the lady of
the house were upstairs
in the bedroom while her husband
was downstairs with a
few hundred other guests?
Not the bedroom. It was
the servants' quarters
above the garage.
Honest to God?
Mmm.
Well, you were taking a hell
of a chance, if you ask me, pal.
Let me say I enjoy the
danger. It stimulates me.
I'd cadged a couple of pills
from Claire just to stay awake.
The party was so boring.
And then the lady slipped
me a note and a key.
It was the adventure
of the thing.
Claire may get a kick out of
these little red and yellow pills,
but to me, stimulation
is living on the edge.
What?
Oh, dear. What is it?
Lieutenant, would those red
and yellow pills be the same ones
that Deborah
Tarkington took? Yes.
Well, they're just
diet pills. So what?
You're onto something,
aren't you, Mrs. Fletcher?
Yes, I think that maybe I am.
Please, Kevin, just give me a
few hours to get through this.
Sure, Vicky, I can
wait a few hours.
We'll just do supper late.
But I told you, I'm seeing
my husband's play tonight.
Vicky, I'm very
disappointed in you.
I thought you were much more
flexible, if you know what I mean.
This is Vicky's husband.
If you ever come near her again,
I will personally eliminate
some of your favorite body parts,
if you know what I mean!
That's no way to
make it in real estate.
Hi.
Hi.
The grapevine says there's
a dinner invitation open here.
You wouldn't be tapping
my phone, now, would you?
Nothing that obvious.
I heard that Mrs. Griffin is
going to the theater tonight
with her aunt and husband.
But if I'm wrong about that
invitation, I'll say goodbye.
No, no, don't go.
How does spaghetti
marinara sound to you?
It's a special recipe, and
you can make the salad.
The things I do
for an exclusive.
I never made a salad in my life.
ARNOLD: Now let
me get this straight.
You are interested in
relocating to the West Coast?
Oh, yes.
I'm growing tired of those
cold Maine winters. Thank you.
After a few days here
in this lovely climate,
I've decided that I want
a house in Beverly Hills.
Ah, very, very
sensible, Mrs. Fletcher.
But why come to
us instead of your
delightful niece?
Well, Vicky's a
sweet little thing,
but totally over her
head in the world of,
well, high-ticket real estate.
I'm going to be in Cabot
Cove during the escrow,
and I need someone
experienced, competent,
hardheaded and thorough
who can handle things for me.
Well, you know, I
have sold property
to some pretty
heavyweight buyers.
Now, do you have a
specific house in mind?
Oh, yes, indeed.
I am simply enchanted
with the Tarkington estate.
Well, now, you do realize
the asking price is rather high.
Well, it might seem so for some,
but I've never believed that
the best things in life are free.
I mean, the more they
cost, the better they are.
Oh, my dear lady, I've
been telling my clients this
for years and years and years.
CLAIRE: Arnold.
Oh, good afternoon,
Mrs. Hastings.
What is that woman doing here?
My dear, this is Jessica
Fletcher, Victoria Griffin's aunt.
I know who she is. The
question is, why is she here?
Excuse us just a second.
Arnold.
To buy a house, darling.
Don't be a fool. Mrs. Fletcher's
niece is the prime suspect
in Deborah's murder.
She isn't shopping for houses,
she's shopping for suspects.
If you don't mind, darlings,
I'm bored with all that.
I want the Tarkington
estate, and I want it
settled before I leave
for Maine tomorrow.
You can't possibly be serious.
Oh, well, I'll tell you
how serious I am.
I'm prepared to offer ten
percent over the asking price
of $4.9 million.
But of course, if you have an
agreement with Alec Burton...
Oh, well,
I'd hardly call it an agreement,
and certainly not a contract.
Tomorrow will be
just fine, Mrs. Fletcher.
You'd be amazed at how quickly
things happen with the right impetus.
Mr. Hastings,
everything about your
operation amazes me.
Good morning.
Good morning, Kevin, dear.
What are you
doing here so early?
What time is it?
High noon.
We got some great news
for you, buddy boy. Oh, good.
I could use some,
after last night.
We've found a buyer
for your property.
Who? And how much?
Us.
The last offer was $3.9 million.
But I thought you were
Alec Burton's people.
Not when we're competing for
something that we dearly want.
Oh, Kevin, darling,
don't you see?
We've fallen in
love with your house.
Oh, dear,
after you promised it to me
for $4.9 million plus ten percent?
A tidy little profit on
a very crooked deal.
Kevin, I assure you, this
woman is absolutely mad.
Don't bother. I warned
you not to trust her.
Speaking of trust, you
violated Alec Burton's trust
when you paid Seymour
Densch to act as a stooge
without Mr. Burton's approval.
Hardly kosher, right, partner?
Mrs. Tarkington probably
found out, tried to make trouble.
So, what are you
saying, I killed her?
I couldn't have done it.
I was at the party, remember?
I went upstairs to the
billiard room to play pool.
I was up there until
about 1:00 or so.
Yes, but as Mr. Burton
pointed out, it was a huge party.
So it wasn't difficult for someone to
slip out and return later, unobserved.
Wouldn't you agree,
Mrs. Hastings?
Me? You think I killed Deborah?
Yes.
And I think after
you killed her,
you decided to make it look
as if she had accidentally
overdosed on stimulants and alcohol,
and then fallen and struck her head.
How clever, if true.
Which, of course, it is not.
Those pills found beside Mrs.
Tarkington's body couldn't have been hers
because her maid told me she
ran out of them that afternoon
and apparently was rather upset
because the maid forgot
to refill the prescription.
Now, if she had no more pills,
where did the pills on
the floor come from?
Your purse, Mrs. Hastings.
Your prescription bottle.
I think I should warn
you, Mrs. Hastings,
the autopsy showed
no pills in her system,
and we're having forensics
dust those found at the
scene for partial prints.
Claire.
Oh, Arnold, close your mouth.
You know what it's
like. Been all these years
working with the rich,
not being rich ourselves.
Not rich, rich.
You actually start to feel
that you're one of them.
And then one day you
wake up and you realize
that you're on a par with
their poodle's hairdresser.
Mrs. Hastings, why don't
you bring us all up to speed
and tell us what
really happened?
That idiot, Seymour Densch,
couldn't resist the
opportunity to see the house
and meet the infamous
Deborah Tarkington,
daughter of his idol,
Harry Tarkington.
So he used his offer on
the house as an entrée
and introduced
himself to Deborah.
Well, after five minutes she saw right
through him, and she called him on it.
Of course, he spilled his
guts before she tossed him out.
I guess that's when
she called Victoria
and left the message on her
machine that the deal was off.
Then she called
Arnold at the party
to give him a piece of her
mind, but I intercepted the call.
She was talking about fraud.
Now I told her to calm down,
that we would talk about it.
So,
I left the party and
I went to Deborah's.
She'd been drinking just enough to be
abusive, and nasty and very dangerous.
And when she went for
the phone to call the police,
I went for the fireplace poker.
I always was a good closer.
All right, thank you
very much. Bye-bye.
I've done it, Aunt
Jess. I've finally done it.
You've sold a house!
How wonderful!
I've found a buyer for
the Tarkington estate.
Once the paperwork comes
through from Kuwait, the house is sold.
And now maybe Howard can concentrate
on his play without any distractions.
The play closed.
Oh, dear.
How is Howard taking it?
He's not sure he
wants to act anymore.
He wants to try
something entirely new.
And a friend of his told him
about the wonderful opportunities
in the commodities market.
You know, buying and selling.
Well, buying and selling what?
Soybean futures and hog bellies.
Hey, listen you're
not gonna believe this.
I went on an interview
and got the job!
What kind of a job? Hog bellies?
No. Acting!
This advertising guy saw my
performance in the workshop
as the mushroom,
and he liked it so much,
he wants me to be
the spokesperson
for all his television
commercials.
I play a pineapple named Pepe.
But that's not acting.
No real actor would
play a talking pineapple.
The two things just
don't go together.
It's a job.
Well, what do
you think, Jessica?
Well, I think that
Vicky's wrong.
They go very well together.
What?
Ham and pineapple.