Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 7, Episode 1 - Trials and Tribulations - full transcript
Jessica is accused of false testimony and bribery in the death of an escaping murderer.
That's a pretty lousy
suggestion, Mrs. Fletcher.
Murder's lousy, too, Mr. Fields.
Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.
Are you saying that anyone
can file a lawsuit willy-nilly
against anyone they
please, any time they please?
Well, it's not
quite that simple.
First, you have
to hire a lawyer...
Stop moving your head.
You have a pinched
vertebrae, remember?
Thirty years he
gave that company.
My father is dead
because of you.
Step forward, number two.
Me? Yes, you. Number
two, step forward.
You drive careful, now.
Yeah, right.
Hold it!
What the hell are you doing?
Don't you hear the siren?
They know you're out.
We gotta get out of here,
ditch this van. Dummy!
This is the State Police.
Pull over to the
side of the road.
Driver of the van,
pull over now!
I can't outrun that
chopper, Eddie.
Keep going, or I'll
blow your head off.
Eddie!
Hurry, get the paramedics!
Tell them to move it!
More tea, Mrs. Fletcher?
Hmm? Oh, no, no
more, thank you, Fred.
Ma'am, there's a very nice
lady standing over there
carrying one of your books,
and she says she'd
like your autograph.
Oh, I'd be delighted.
This is very nice of you.
She reminds me
of my grandmother.
Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.
This is a thrill. Really.
Why, thank you.
I've read every
one of your books.
Loved them all.
And what is your name?
Hester.
"To Hester," would be fine.
Oh, my mother's
gonna be so excited.
She's a big fan of yours, too.
Do you still live in
Cabot Cove, Maine?
And I wouldn't dream of moving.
698, Candlewood Lane.
Yes. How did you know?
It's typed. Right
on the summons.
Summons?
Thanks again, Jessica.
I knew you were gonna be
just as nice as your picture.
What did I tell you?
Isn't she the sweetest thing?
Fred, get yourself
a new grandmother.
My, my, my...
Dear.
Well, surely they
can't be serious.
Oh, they're serious
all right, Mrs. Fletcher.
Whether they have a case or
not is an entirely different matter.
Look, Mr. Dandridge, I'm a
reasonably intelligent woman,
but when it comes
to a legal summons,
or the fine print in my
insurance policy with you, I...
I'm a little bit confused
as to where I stand.
Let me explain it to you.
Six years ago, you assisted the
authorities in a murder investigation
which led to the arrest and conviction
of a man named Edward Stone.
Yes, I remember the case.
Well, Stone died in an
attempted prison break last month
and now his daughter,
Geraldine Stone,
has filed a $50 million
wrongful death suit against you.
She claims that your
participation in the investigation
was instrumental in
her father's conviction
and that his death was the
result of wrongful imprisonment
based upon erroneous evidence.
But that is ridiculous.
Well, of course it is. We...
We have 30 days
in which to answer.
Answer what?
The complaint.
But there is nothing to answer.
This is pure fabrication.
Well, of course it is, but
we still have to answer it.
Wait a minute.
Are you saying that anyone
can file a lawsuit willy-nilly
against anyone they
please, any time they please?
Well, it's not
quite that simple.
First, you have
to hire a lawyer,
though I would suspect
that this one is working
on a contingency
basis, Charlie Cosmo.
Gives even shysters a bad name.
Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Dandridge,
but I refuse to
dignify this travesty.
I'll have to leave
it in your hands.
I'm sure this will never
even come to trial.
Charlie would rather
settle than fight any day.
So if his figure's low enough, I'll just
give him something to end the nuisance.
Settle? Oh, no, that would
be admitting that he was right.
No, absolutely not.
Mrs. Fletcher, I
know how you feel.
I don't think you do.
Well, ultimately this comes
down to dollars and cents.
I mean, none of us wants the
expense or the inconvenience
of a long, drawn-out trial.
So suppose that
I talk to Charlie?
See where he's coming from.
You do that, Mr. Dandridge.
Meantime, I'm going to have a
chat with Miss Geraldine Stone
and find out where
she's coming from.
Mrs. Fletcher, I don't think
that's such a good idea.
On the contrary, Mr. Dandridge,
I think it's the best
idea I've had all morning.
Come on, Mr. Kleinschmidt,
the appropriation was killed
in committee on your
recommendation, and you know it.
Sir, nobody is
trying to nail anyone.
I just want a straight answer.
If I'd wanted to talk to your PR
guy, I would've called your PR guy.
All right, all right, fine.
Excuse me for bothering you.
Earth Now will be on
the stands next Tuesday.
You can read all about it.
Pardon me. Miss
Stone? Yeah, that's me.
I'm Jessica Fletcher.
Look, Mrs. Fletcher,
I'm very busy right now.
Yes, I can see that.
Miss Stone, I'd like
to know why on earth
you're filing this
lawsuit against me.
I think it speaks for itself.
No, I'm afraid it doesn't.
I'm sorry that
your father is dead
but he was sent to
prison for killing a man.
On trumped-up
evidence created by you.
No, that's not true.
Look, Mrs. Fletcher, I don't think
we should be talking about this.
This is something for
the courts to decide.
Yes, just as they decided to
send your father to prison, not me.
Mrs. Fletcher, I'm very,
very busy right now, okay?
So would you please leave
or I'm going to have to ask
somebody to make you leave.
No, that won't be necessary.
Stone! Gerry... Oh, hi.
Did I catch you at a bad time?
Yeah, very.
Justin, she was here.
Who?
Mrs. Fletcher.
I didn't know
what to say to her.
You don't have to
say anything, darling.
That's what you
pay your lawyer for.
I just feel so sleazy.
For what? It's not
gonna cost her anything.
Just her insurance company.
Yeah, I know,
but it's just that...
Gerry, this is no time
to lose your nerve.
Believe me, the night we
open Justin's Restaurant,
you'll forget all about this.
Uh, gotta run. Here
comes the grand dragon.
See you tonight. I'll bring
home some cheesecake.
I trust, Mr. Fields,
that your duties here
are not interfering
with your personal life.
Sorry, Mr. Von Steuben.
A personal emergency.
Involving your banker?
Sir?
I am a tolerant man,
Fields, even forbearing,
but I am not amused by pastry
chefs with delusions of grandeur.
Sorry, sir, you've lost me.
Yes, just the thing
I hoped to avoid.
I am not amused by your
heretofore vain attempts
to raise the capital to
fund your own restaurant.
Sir, I assure you, I...
And I assure you, I will enforce your
contract with every means available to me.
I do not relish
seeing my clientele
spirited away by some
ambitious employee.
You are a competent
chef, Fields,
but a hopeless businessman
as your two previous
bankruptcies attest to.
Do I smell something burning?
Stay very calm, Patricia,
and answer my questions
slowly and quietly.
And if you can manage
a little catch in your throat
every once in a while, that's
great, only don't overdo it.
Now stop moving your head.
You have a pinched
vertebrae, remember?
Excuse me a minute.
Well, what do you say?
How you doing, Ray?
Charlie, isn't that a little
bit much, even for you?
Nurse, orderly, wheelchair?
Yeah, I tried to
get a doctor, too,
only all of my really good
guys are out of town, testifying.
So, what brings you
here, as if I couldn't guess?
Charlie, that complaint
against J.B. Fletcher's
a sack of chicken
feathers, and you know it.
Oh, I don't think a
jury'll see it that way.
Have you met the lady? I
hear she's a real busybody.
We're not gonna settle.
Who's talking about settling?
We're talking $50 million here.
So it takes three or four
years to get on the docket?
So what?
I mean, for numbers like that,
I've got the patience of Job.
So do we.
I'm on my way right now to see the
detective on the case, Lieutenant Lewis.
Well, you've got
yourself a long trip.
Lewis died. Last
year. Heart attack.
Who you really ought to talk
to is the state's chief witness,
Angelo Vitello, only I'm
not going to let you do that.
Not just yet.
What are you talking about?
It's all here, Ray.
I took his deposition
last week, at his home.
You and Mrs. Fletcher might want to
look that over, and then we'll have a talk.
Hey.
Nice seeing you.
Mrs. Fletcher? Yes.
Hi. Sergeant Paulsen.
You probably don't remember me.
I worked with Lieutenant Lewis
on the Eddie Stone murder case.
Oh, yes, yes, of course.
Nice to see you again.
I don't blame you for
not remembering me.
I was a size 36 back then.
That was right
before my wife left me,
and I was passed over for
Sergeant three straight times.
Kind of, you know, went
to my waistline a little bit.
Yes, yes, yes,
of course. Well...
I guess they told you about
the Lieutenant dying last year.
Yes. I was so
sorry to hear that.
Me, too. He was my rabbi.
You know, guardian angel.
I kind of miss the guy.
Well, anyway, what
can I do for you?
Well, I'm not really
quite sure. You see...
I wanted to review
the case with him.
The fact is, Sergeant,
I am being sued.
No kidding? What for?
Well, Edward Stone's
daughter claims
that my involvement in the
case led to her father's conviction.
Well, she sure has got that right.
We couldn't have done it without you.
Yeah, well, that isn't
exactly what I wanted to hear.
Believe me, Lewis didn't have a
clue until you put him on the right track.
Oh, Gummy Bear?
Oh, no, no, thank you.
Mrs. Fletcher.
Oh, Mr. Dandridge.
We have to talk. Now.
Sergeant, this is my
attorney, Raymond Dandridge.
Hi. How do you do?
Sergeant Paulsen.
Sergeant, would you
excuse us for just a moment?
Oh, sure.
It's time for my
lunch break, anyway.
If you need to see those
files, just say the word, okay?
Thank you.
Mrs. Fletcher, we have
trouble. Serious trouble.
Do you remember a man
named Angelo Vitello?
Oh, yes, of course. He was the cab
driver who picked up Edward Stone
late that night, just a block
from the murder scene.
A pretty important
witness, would you say?
Oh, yes. He was
the key to the case.
I was afraid you were going
to say something like that.
You see, Mr. Vitello has
suddenly had a change of heart.
He says the only reason that
he identified Edward Stone
was because you
talked him into it.
And he says
that you paid him
$5,000 to lie under oath.
Frankly, Mrs. Fletcher,
this is a terrible idea.
So you keep telling me.
Would you please wait?
Now, I want you to know I don't
believe the man's accusation.
Not for a moment.
Well, thank you.
But still and all, his
statement is very specific.
Unless he's an
out-and-out liar... He is.
But you also said he was
a very charming gentleman.
Open, cheerful, very likeable.
Yes, but that's
what troubles me.
I mean, how could he make this
accusation when he knows that it's false?
This is it.
Yes? Mrs. Vitello?
I'm Mrs. Vitello.
My name is Jessica
Fletcher. This is Mr. Dandridge.
I've come to see your husband.
Well, he's busy right now.
Oh, please. I've
come such a long way.
Would you at least
tell him that I'm here?
It's very important.
Wait here.
I'm sorry, but Angelo
can't see you right now.
He's... He's taking a nap.
Oh.
Look, he hasn't been
feeling well lately.
Next time, call first, okay?
I'm sorry. Excuse me.
Italian ice! Italian ice!
Well, she was telling the
truth about one thing, anyway.
He's not well.
He's at least 40 pounds lighter
than when I remember him.
And they've got him on oxygen.
Mrs. Fletcher, Jessica, please,
I know how upset you are,
but will you leave this to me?
I'm sorry, but I can't do that.
Look, would you mind giving
me a lift to the police station?
I'd like to go
through the files.
Here you go, Mrs. Fletcher.
Oh, thank you. Mmm-hmm.
Mrs. Fletcher.
I don't know if you remember me.
Oh, but of course I
do, Miss Stephenson.
How nice to see you again.
Thank you.
You know, technically, you really
shouldn't be reviewing those files.
Not without a court order.
Well, on the other hand,
I shouldn't be accused of
suborning perjury, either.
I presume you've talked
to Sergeant Paulsen?
I asked him to call you.
And for the record, I don't
believe Vitello's accusation.
Well, thank you.
On the other hand, it's a pretty
serious charge. I can't just ignore it.
It's not just a civil suit now.
It involves a possible
criminal offense.
Oh, how well I know that.
You know, when I
prosecuted Edward Stone,
my case quite frankly,
rested on two things,
the circumstantial evidence,
and Angelo Vitello's
uncorroborated testimony.
So if it turns out
that he was lying,
for whatever reason,
well, my entire case,
based on your theory,
just won't hold up.
He was not lying. Not then.
Well, I don't think so either.
But I'm in kind of
a difficult position.
You see, I've been asked to
run for District Attorney next year.
Oh, I see.
Well, something like this could really
destroy my chances for the nomination.
I just hope you decide not to
settle this civil suit out of court.
Well, my insurance company
seems more than willing to negotiate
but I wouldn't
think of doing so.
Good for you.
You know, it's one thing
to lie in a sworn deposition.
It's quite another to make it stick in an
open courtroom under cross-examination.
Oh, you didn't let me
down six years ago,
you're not gonna
let me down now.
We'll be in touch.
You bet.
Taxi!
Mrs. Fletcher? Yes.
Just the lady I came to see.
Charles Emmett
Cosmo, Attorney at Law.
Oh. yes. Mr. Cosmo.
I represent... Yes, I
know who you represent.
I'm really surprised to see that you
actually came here to this police station.
Excuse me, lady. Do you
want the cab or don't you?
Oh, yes. Why don't
you just get on with it?
Wait, please.
I gave you a lot more
credit, Mrs. Fletcher.
A lady of your
experience and intelligence
especially around a
courtroom. Excuse me?
You see, my client and
I, we're talking civil action.
Just a quiet little suit with
a quiet little settlement.
Something that could be handled
in an hour or so, over a cup of coffee.
And now, you see, you've
brought the law into it.
Mr. Cosmo, hard as it may
be for you to grasp the concept,
I was not involved in
subornation of perjury.
Lady!
Go. Stay!
Go, stay. Tourists.
Mrs. Fletcher, don't
misunderstand me.
I just don't want to see
you in any more trouble.
Now I've lost my cab.
So what are you telling me?
That you're gonna let this thing
drag on for three or four years?
If that's what it takes.
And then what? You're
going to get crucified.
I seriously doubt it. Taxi!
Why? Because you're innocent?
Lady, that doesn't
have a lot to do with it.
Don't you understand
that judges and D.A.'s
will bend over backwards
to avoid the impression
that they're kowtowing
to a celebrity?
The trial gets twice as tough.
In the mornings,
at the courthouse,
there'll be a bunch of
lawyers swarming all over you,
and at night the phone
will ring off the hook.
Do you seriously want to
put yourself through that?
Mr. Cosmo, I am still
naive enough to believe
that in a court of
law, truth will prevail.
Go through it?
I look forward to it.
Excuse me.
This is just great.
Give the maitre d' your
name, and off he goes.
"One moment" he says. It's been
longer than a moment, Jessica.
Have you recently given
up smoking or something?
You're very edgy.
I'm not edgy.
I just hate paying
$100 a head for dinner
and then have to suffer
rudeness in the bargain.
Maybe now you can tell
me what this "good reason" is
you have for coming here.
It surely can't be the food.
Well, I've heard interesting
things about their pastry.
Mrs. Fletcher.
How delightful to
meet you at last.
Elliot Von Steuben,
a devoted admirer.
Why, thank you.
My friend, Raymond Dandridge.
Mr. Dandridge. Oh, pleased.
I've reserved a very
special table for you.
I've also ordered up an
excellent '78 Cabernet,
which I'm sure you'll enjoy.
Oh, that sounds delicious.
And if there is something special
you would like, anything at all,
just ask your waiter. No
request will be too difficult.
I just don't know what
to say, Mr. Von Steuben.
Say? You need say nothing.
What you have
written speaks volumes.
I confess to say, I am
a shameless aficionado
of the well-crafted
murder mystery.
Christy, James, Fletcher.
My library is small, but select.
Bon appetit. And if there is anything
you need, I am at your service.
Thank you.
It's incredible.
The man oozes snake oil.
We'll wait a few
minutes before ordering.
Certainly.
Jessica, what's all
this about pastry?
I did some research
on Geraldine Stone.
She's involved with a pastry
chef here named Justin Fields.
He's been trying for months,
unsuccessfully, to raise enough
money to open his own place.
Well, this is a
high-risk business.
Oh, yes. And Mr. Fields has
two bankruptcies to prove it.
What's your point?
This sudden lawsuit, totally
without merit, popping up at a time
that her boyfriend needs to
raise about a half a million dollars.
You tell me.
Well, she's suing
you for 50 million.
Which she couldn't possibly hope
to collect for three or four years.
Now, the question is
what might you and the
insurance company settle for now
to avoid the nuisance
of the lawsuit.
I see. That would
explain a lot of things.
Mmm-hmm.
Raymond. It's Geraldine Stone.
Something's making her unhappy.
And I think the pastry
chef's about to hear about it.
Maybe your idea of confronting
her wasn't such a bad one, after all.
Excuse me, Mrs.
Fletcher. A call for you.
Oh, thank you. Hello.
Mrs. Fletcher. It's
Sergeant Paulsen.
Your hotel told me
where I could find you.
Oh. What's the matter, Sergeant?
The paramedics just responded to
a 911 in Angelo Vitello's apartment.
They're taking him
to Bellevue now.
Oh. What happened?
I don't know. But if you want to
talk to the guy, you better hurry up.
I don't think he's gonna
make it till morning.
Sergeant, how is he?
Breathing, but that's about
it. They've got him in ICU.
Did you get a
chance to talk to him?
He hasn't regained
consciousness.
Well, what happened?
The doc thinks he went
into a diabetic coma.
They're running some tests.
Now, his wife's in
the waiting room.
She's holding up pretty good.
Ray, would you excuse me?
I'll see if I can
find the doctor.
There, there, Mrs. Vitello.
I'll say a prayer for
him at tonight's mass.
Excuse me. Mrs. Vitello.
Oh.
Mrs. Fletcher.
I'm so very sorry.
I hope that your husband's
going to be all right.
Thank you.
Look, I want to apologize for
my rudeness this afternoon.
Oh, please.
I get very protective.
On his bad days,
Angelo, he tires easily
and company upsets him.
You know, he hasn't been out of
the house for the past eight weeks.
Well, how long has he been sick?
A couple of years.
Oh, the diabetes has
always been with him
but then, two
years ago Christmas
they found the
cancer in his lung.
Well, they took out what they
could, but we knew it wasn't enough.
Look, I know you
want to talk to him.
About that murder case.
Oh, listen, the important thing
is to get him
through this crisis.
He's not getting through it.
Not this time.
I've been with him
all day, all night,
watching him die,
hour after hour.
All except tonight.
Tonight, I go down the
street to a neighbor's
to watch her kids
for a couple of hours,
so she and her
husband can go out.
It's their anniversary.
And when I come home...
You know, after
they laid him off,
when he was too sick
to work, he gave up.
I could see it in his face.
Thirty years he
gave that company.
Never late, never an excuse.
Just like that, they fired him.
No benefits, no nothing.
Even his life insurance.
It was just like he'd
never ever been there.
Jessica?
Excuse me.
Jessica, Vitello didn't make it.
He died about five minutes ago.
I talked to one of the nurses.
Oh, that poor woman.
I mean, she said she was
resigned to it, but I don't know.
This is gonna hit her hard.
Real hard, Mrs. Fletcher.
We got a real sicko
running around.
Explain that, Sergeant.
Vitello's back door.
Somebody punched in the
glass pane next to the door handle.
An intruder?
That's just for openers.
The lab just double-checked
their blood test.
Came out the same
way both times.
Vitello's bloodstream
was loaded with sugar
and we found a syringe
tossed away in the backyard.
It still had traces on it.
Traces of what?
Pure dextrose.
Somebody broke in, injected
the guy to bring on his attack.
What we're talking
here is murder.
I'm sorry, sir, but
Mr. Cosmo is in with a client.
Miss, I phoned him early this morning
and told him I would be here at 10:00.
Sir, I'm sorry, but he left specific
instructions not to be disturbed.
Don't worry about
a thing, Miss Stone.
Mr. Vitello's death
doesn't change anything.
I intend to pursue this lawsuit.
Good.
'Cause I'm more determined
than ever to see it through.
Thanks, Mr. Cosmo.
I'll be in touch.
Ray.
Sorry to keep you waiting.
Tell me something, Charlie,
is your client theatrically trained
or was that performance
last-minute coaching?
Come on, you know
me better than that.
Absolutely.
Face it, Ray.
It doesn't matter whether
Angelo Vitello's dead
or he's alive.
I've got your client dead-bang.
His deposition was
sworn and notarized.
No jury is gonna
buy a piece of paper.
From a dying man,
anxious to cleanse his soul?
Come on, Ray.
Let's you and I stop screwing
around, and settle on a figure.
No deal.
A few years down the road, this is
gonna cost you guys a lot of zeroes.
And your boss isn't gonna
be too happy when he finds out
that you could've settled
today for a box of Cracker Jacks.
What are Cracker Jacks
going for these days?
A little less than a million.
Not even for a dollar.
Mrs. Fletcher says it's
a lie, and I believe her.
Yeah? And when did
you get to be so righteous?
Maybe since somebody murdered Angelo
Vitello to make sure he never testified.
Well, it wasn't my client.
Did I mention names?
I'm just telling you, Charlie.
There's a point at which
even I won't do business.
And you have a nice day.
Ray, when it comes to people
with a motive to keep Angelo Vitello
off the witness stand you know
who's numero uno, don't you?
Your client.
Oh, hey, that's a stretch.
Even for you, Charlie.
Maybe so.
But I happen to know that
the police have a witness
who saw a woman leave
the Vitello brownstone
around 7:30.
And judging by the description,
it could easily be Mrs. Fletcher.
Sergeant?
Oh. Mrs. Fletcher.
They told me at the
station you'd be here.
Where's Mrs. Vitello?
She's at the church,
making arrangements.
Did you find anything?
Aside from the broken pane
in the kitchen door, not much.
I understand that a woman was
seen leaving the building last night
around 7:30 or so.
Who told you that?
Oh, Mr. Dandridge.
And he heard it from Mr. Cosmo.
Oh, I wonder where he got that,
from the bulletin
board at headquarters?
Incidentally, for the record,
I was in my room at the hotel between 7:00
and 8:00 last night, changing for dinner.
Then I took a cab to the restaurant,
where I met Mr. Dandridge.
Did I ask?
Well, not yet.
They have quite a formidable
security system here.
Too bad it wasn't
operating last night.
Whenever Mrs. Vitello
would leave the apartment,
her husband would never use
the slide bolts, in case, you know,
he passed out or something,
she would be able to get back in.
So anyone with a credit card
could've opened the door latch.
Or the victim could
have let someone in.
That, too.
Mrs. Vitello left at 6:15
and came back around 8:30.
She found her husband comatose
on the floor, so she called 911.
The ambulance came within 10
minutes and rushed him to the hospital.
Well, then the woman
seen leaving the building...
Was not Mrs. Vitello.
She was with the neighbor's
children the entire time.
Now, the other woman was
of indeterminate middle age,
blonde hair under a
hat, and dark glasses,
and she left from the
front of the building.
Dark glasses at night?
It sounds as if she didn't
want to be recognized.
My thoughts exactly.
Sergeant, excuse me, you
mentioned that a syringe was found
in the rear yard.
Yes. About 10 yards
from the kitchen door.
Oh. But doesn't that
seem rather odd?
I mean, if this woman was
involved in Mr. Vitello's death
and left by the front door,
why was the syringe
found at the back door?
I mean, it seems to me that the killer must
have dropped or tossed the syringe away,
as he left by the back.
Listen, Mrs. Fletcher,
I happen to think you're
a really terrific lady.
And I am absolutely sure
you had nothing to do with this.
On the other hand,
I have a captain who really doesn't
know you quite as well as I do,
and he made a suggestion that...
You know it really wasn't
a suggestion, it was...
You know, being that there's a witness, and
you really don't have a terrific alibi...
Well, let me put
it to you this way.
All right, ladies, line up
under your assigned numbers.
Face front.
Hands down at your side.
Thank you.
Well, Mrs. Torgeson?
I don't know.
It was kind of dark.
I wasn't that close.
I only really got a sideway
glance, as she was hurrying away.
All right, ladies,
turn to your right.
No, no, the other way.
And now to your left.
How about now?
It could be. Maybe.
Maybe number two.
But I saw her moving,
you know what I mean?
Face forward, ladies.
Number two, please step forward.
Me? Yes, you. Number
two, step forward.
Walk briskly to
your left, please.
Now, just a minute, Sergeant.
Briskly to your
left, number two.
No, I don't think so.
But you're not sure?
I'm an old lady with bad eyes.
What do you want
from me, pictures?
Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.
Oh, Mrs. Fletcher, thanks
so much for your cooperation.
I guess you're off the hook,
for the time being, at least.
For the time being?
Well, the eyewitness really
turned out to be of no use to us.
Well, with the darkness, and the
obvious disguise the woman was wearing,
she really couldn't
make a positive ID.
Oh, I'm sorry to hear
that, Miss Stephenson,
because I was going to volunteer to
go through again, on one condition,
that you join the line-up.
Me?
Well, I suppose that
would be amusing.
Oh, my goodness, it's almost
2:30, and I haven't eaten lunch.
Would you care to join me?
I think that you and I
have a lot to talk about.
All right.
How did you know I was the one at
the Vitello apartment house last night?
Well, I didn't, for sure.
But you had as much to lose by
Mr. Vitello's testimony as anyone.
I simply put the blonde hair
together with the disguise.
Made sense.
I didn't kill the
man, Mrs. Fletcher.
I went there to talk to
him privately, that's all.
And the disguise was
necessary. I mean,
how would it look for
the next District Attorney
to be seen meeting with a man
who claims to have been bribed
to commit perjury in a
case I won six years ago?
And did you discuss
that case with him?
No. I knocked several times,
but there was no answer.
I could hear the television
set, so I knew he was there,
but he wouldn't answer.
Or couldn't.
And when was that?
Was it around 7:30?
Yeah.
Look, I know it was stupid
but that deposition of
his was just a total lie.
It had to be.
And I just wanted to
get to the bottom of it.
One-on-one.
Now, you say you
heard the television.
Did you hear him moving
around in the apartment?
No.
Welcome, Mrs. Fletcher.
Welcome again.
Thank you. This is...
Miss Anne Stephenson.
Miss Stephenson, delighted. I've
seen you often on the late news.
The camera does
not do you justice.
Won't you join us?
Oh, I would be
delighted, however...
Actually, Miss Stephenson
would like to ask you
a couple of questions
about last night.
But of course.
How may I help you?
Well, I...
Actually, Miss Stephenson
would like to have a chat
with your pastry
chef, Justin Fields.
Ah, yes.
I can give you his home address.
You mean he's not here?
No. Nor will he be.
I let him go last evening.
A most disagreeable and
undependable gentleman,
despite his considerable
skill with a baking pan.
It's excellent. Saucy,
but not impudent.
Undependable?
Last evening, he
sneaked out the back door,
and left the petits
fours to his assistant.
Unconscionable.
Uh, about what time was that?
Shortly before 7:00.
And when did he return?
He didn't.
Oh, but I saw Geraldine
Stone here last night.
I just assumed that she'd
come here to see him.
Oh, she did. And she was only
slightly less disappointed than I was
to find him missing.
I called him this morning, to
notify him of his termination.
He found it amusing.
He said he'd worked his
last shift as a pastry chef.
Dear fellow. I wonder
what he knows that I don't.
Mrs. Fletcher, what
are you doing here?
Oh, I came to see
you, Miss Stone.
Your office told me that you'd
taken a couple of days sick leave.
This must be Mr. Fields.
How do you do?
Hi.
I'm sorry that I missed you
at the restaurant last night.
I hear you make a
wonderful cheesecake.
You didn't come here to discuss
cheesecakes, Mrs. Fletcher.
No, I didn't.
My, this is quite
a lovely place.
Or it will be, when
you get it all fixed up.
I talked to the
owner this morning.
He told me that you took a
lease on the place last month.
Not that it's any
of your business.
Well, I'm afraid it's
very much my business.
The lawsuit saw to that.
But actually what's
far more important is
who killed that poor, sick
old man in the wheelchair?
Well, it wasn't me.
I wanted him alive,
to testify at your trial.
Did you? I wonder.
Your lawyer seems to think
he'd have just as good a case
even with Mr. Vitello dead.
Perhaps even stronger.
After all, you can't
cross-examine a corpse.
That's a pretty lousy
suggestion, Mrs. Fletcher.
Murder's lousy, too, Mr. Fields.
And so is that absurd
accusation against me.
But I can guess why you made it,
to pressure my insurance company
into making and out-of-court settlement.
How much do you
need to open this place?
A half a million?
Wait a minute. My father
is dead because of you.
The owner of this building says you
gave him a $10,000 deposit, Mr. Fields.
Though according to the
bank check you paid him with
the money came from Miss
Stone's savings account.
What else did you pay from
that account, Miss Stone?
What the hell are
you talking about?
Suppose I told you
that Sergeant Paulsen
is at the courthouse
at this very moment
getting an order to open up your financial
records for the past three months.
You're lying. No.
I just used the word "suppose".
But judging by your reaction,
I think it's a wonderful idea.
Excuse me.
Wait a minute, wait,
Mrs. Fletcher, wait...
Gerry, don't be stupid.
Look, I really didn't
want to do this.
It just seemed like an easy
way to make some quick money
without anybody getting hurt.
Except the insurance
company and my reputation.
Gerry, shut up, or
you could end up in jail.
Look, maybe I don't care
anymore, all right, Justin?
You know, I never should have let
you talk me into this in the first place.
If you want to walk,
go ahead and walk.
You know, that's exactly
what I'm going to do.
Thanks for nothing.
If you felt like shedding
a few tears, I wouldn't.
I honestly don't
think that he's worth it.
That doesn't exactly
come as a hot news flash.
All right, Mrs. Fletcher,
what do you need to know?
You paid Vitello
$25,000 in cash to lie?
Well, no, I didn't
pay him personally.
That was handled by
my attorney, Mr. Cosmo.
No kidding?
Charlie Cosmo bribing a witness?
This is my lucky day.
And he paid the money
directly to Mr. Vitello?
Oh, yeah, yeah.
In his living room.
It was about three weeks ago.
Mr. Vitello was too
sick to leave the house.
But if he was too sick
to leave the house...
Sergeant, are you
thinking what I'm thinking?
Oh, yes, ma'am.
Hey, you jerk! What's the rush?
Come on, move it!
Sergeant, this is insane.
You've got no right to do this.
Ma'am, I showed you the search
warrant. We have every right.
But there's no
money hidden here.
Three weeks ago your
husband had a visitor,
Charles Cosmo, an attorney.
Yes. He came to
discuss the case.
But no money changed hands.
Are you sure of that? Were you
with them every single moment?
Well, of course not.
Sergeant, we got it.
Where'd you find this? In
the ceiling in the bedroom.
I noticed one of the panels seemed a little
cockeyed, so I pushed it out of the way.
What do you know about this?
Nothing.
This is crazy. I
never saw that before.
Are you quite sure
about that, Mrs. Vitello?
Yes, of course I'm sure.
Officer, is there a stepladder
anywhere in the house?
In the hall closet, ma'am.
It's one of those little
rickety stepladders.
I get it.
Cosmo gave your husband 25
G's while you were out of the room.
Later, he hid the cash in the ceiling
so somebody else would find it.
It's possible, but
not likely, Sergeant.
His legs were very weak.
I mean, he could barely walk.
I doubt very much if
he could have stood
on a short, unstable ladder to
hide the money in the ceiling.
What do you think,
that I put it there?
Did you?
Sure.
That makes sense.
Your husband tells
you about the money.
You can't put it in
a safe deposit box,
because of your
husband's condition.
He could die at any moment.
And then when they opened the
box, how would you explain the cash?
No!
Someone knew the
money was in the house.
Now, whether it was Cosmo,
or the woman, or her boyfriend...
No, Sergeant. I don't think...
They broke in the back door,
killed him with
the sugar injection,
and then started their
search for the money.
I don't think that's
what happened.
Is it, Mrs. Vitello?
Why are you asking me?
You arrived home at, what, 8:30?
You phoned 911, and ten minutes
later the paramedics arrived.
But what did you do during
those ten minutes, Mrs. Vitello?
Do? I don't know what...
I know what most
people would have done.
They would have called a neighbor,
or a friend, perhaps even a priest.
Your husband was
obviously in bad shape.
No, I think that you
did something else.
I think that when you walked in,
you found the
money, and you hid it.
I think you also
found something else.
Mrs. Fletcher, what're
you talking about?
He left you a note,
didn't he, Beatrice?
Do you still have it?
"My dearest wife,
"may God forgive me
what I'm about to do.
"I can't go on like this.
"Lying, hurting people, suffering
myself, and watching you suffer.
"The doctors have
taken everything.
"The medical benefits are gone.
"I have no insurance.
"All I can leave you is
what is in the envelope.
"It is not enough,
but it will have to do.
"But at least you'll be spared
any further pain or hardship.
"Remember always
that I loved you.
"Angelo."
When I came in, he was
slumped over in the chair.
The note and the
envelope were on the table.
The syringe was
on the floor, there.
As soon as I read the note,
I knew what he had done.
He lied about you, Mrs.
Fletcher, but he couldn't live with it.
That's why he did what he did.
He felt so sick and ashamed.
So frightened for his soul.
Is that why you took the
note and hid the money?
Suicide is a mortal sin.
The priest would
never have held a mass.
He could never have been
buried in consecrated ground.
In almost 60 years,
he lived a Christian life.
I couldn't let it end like that.
I only wanted Angelo to
be buried the way he lived.
In a state of grace.
The nightmare is
over, thank God.
Oh, yes.
I wasn't looking forward to
spending the next five years of my life
in and out of courtrooms.
Well, that's the
legal system for you.
Even the innocent
don't get off lightly.
Have you talked to
Anne Stephenson?
What's going to happen
to Beatrice Vitello?
Probation, community service,
a stern lecture from the judge.
At that, she's a very
lucky lady. Oh, yes.
But not so our friend, Charlie Cosmo,
who's staring disbarment dead in the eye.
His peers have been waiting a
long time to get their teeth into him.
Well, thank you, Mr. Dandridge.
It's been a delight meeting you.
But I have to say, I hope we never
find ourselves in this situation again.
Oh, we won't.
Well, I admire your optimism.
Well, it's not
optimism, Jessica.
I'm resigning from the company.
Oh?
Remember when you
first came to see me,
and I suggested we might
settle rather than go to trial?
Oh, yes, I remember.
Well, I realized I was measuring
everything in terms of money.
Bottom line.
I lost track of what I
was supposed to be.
So I think I'm gonna
settle down somewhere,
far away from big cities
and big corporations.
Maybe a little town where I can
hang a "gone fishing" sign on the door
when things get a little slow.
Sounds wonderful.
I know a place like that,
if you don't mind snow.
Quiet and friendly.
And the striped bass are
running twelve months of the year.
I'll give you a call.
I'll be waiting.
suggestion, Mrs. Fletcher.
Murder's lousy, too, Mr. Fields.
Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.
Are you saying that anyone
can file a lawsuit willy-nilly
against anyone they
please, any time they please?
Well, it's not
quite that simple.
First, you have
to hire a lawyer...
Stop moving your head.
You have a pinched
vertebrae, remember?
Thirty years he
gave that company.
My father is dead
because of you.
Step forward, number two.
Me? Yes, you. Number
two, step forward.
You drive careful, now.
Yeah, right.
Hold it!
What the hell are you doing?
Don't you hear the siren?
They know you're out.
We gotta get out of here,
ditch this van. Dummy!
This is the State Police.
Pull over to the
side of the road.
Driver of the van,
pull over now!
I can't outrun that
chopper, Eddie.
Keep going, or I'll
blow your head off.
Eddie!
Hurry, get the paramedics!
Tell them to move it!
More tea, Mrs. Fletcher?
Hmm? Oh, no, no
more, thank you, Fred.
Ma'am, there's a very nice
lady standing over there
carrying one of your books,
and she says she'd
like your autograph.
Oh, I'd be delighted.
This is very nice of you.
She reminds me
of my grandmother.
Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.
This is a thrill. Really.
Why, thank you.
I've read every
one of your books.
Loved them all.
And what is your name?
Hester.
"To Hester," would be fine.
Oh, my mother's
gonna be so excited.
She's a big fan of yours, too.
Do you still live in
Cabot Cove, Maine?
And I wouldn't dream of moving.
698, Candlewood Lane.
Yes. How did you know?
It's typed. Right
on the summons.
Summons?
Thanks again, Jessica.
I knew you were gonna be
just as nice as your picture.
What did I tell you?
Isn't she the sweetest thing?
Fred, get yourself
a new grandmother.
My, my, my...
Dear.
Well, surely they
can't be serious.
Oh, they're serious
all right, Mrs. Fletcher.
Whether they have a case or
not is an entirely different matter.
Look, Mr. Dandridge, I'm a
reasonably intelligent woman,
but when it comes
to a legal summons,
or the fine print in my
insurance policy with you, I...
I'm a little bit confused
as to where I stand.
Let me explain it to you.
Six years ago, you assisted the
authorities in a murder investigation
which led to the arrest and conviction
of a man named Edward Stone.
Yes, I remember the case.
Well, Stone died in an
attempted prison break last month
and now his daughter,
Geraldine Stone,
has filed a $50 million
wrongful death suit against you.
She claims that your
participation in the investigation
was instrumental in
her father's conviction
and that his death was the
result of wrongful imprisonment
based upon erroneous evidence.
But that is ridiculous.
Well, of course it is. We...
We have 30 days
in which to answer.
Answer what?
The complaint.
But there is nothing to answer.
This is pure fabrication.
Well, of course it is, but
we still have to answer it.
Wait a minute.
Are you saying that anyone
can file a lawsuit willy-nilly
against anyone they
please, any time they please?
Well, it's not
quite that simple.
First, you have
to hire a lawyer,
though I would suspect
that this one is working
on a contingency
basis, Charlie Cosmo.
Gives even shysters a bad name.
Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Dandridge,
but I refuse to
dignify this travesty.
I'll have to leave
it in your hands.
I'm sure this will never
even come to trial.
Charlie would rather
settle than fight any day.
So if his figure's low enough, I'll just
give him something to end the nuisance.
Settle? Oh, no, that would
be admitting that he was right.
No, absolutely not.
Mrs. Fletcher, I
know how you feel.
I don't think you do.
Well, ultimately this comes
down to dollars and cents.
I mean, none of us wants the
expense or the inconvenience
of a long, drawn-out trial.
So suppose that
I talk to Charlie?
See where he's coming from.
You do that, Mr. Dandridge.
Meantime, I'm going to have a
chat with Miss Geraldine Stone
and find out where
she's coming from.
Mrs. Fletcher, I don't think
that's such a good idea.
On the contrary, Mr. Dandridge,
I think it's the best
idea I've had all morning.
Come on, Mr. Kleinschmidt,
the appropriation was killed
in committee on your
recommendation, and you know it.
Sir, nobody is
trying to nail anyone.
I just want a straight answer.
If I'd wanted to talk to your PR
guy, I would've called your PR guy.
All right, all right, fine.
Excuse me for bothering you.
Earth Now will be on
the stands next Tuesday.
You can read all about it.
Pardon me. Miss
Stone? Yeah, that's me.
I'm Jessica Fletcher.
Look, Mrs. Fletcher,
I'm very busy right now.
Yes, I can see that.
Miss Stone, I'd like
to know why on earth
you're filing this
lawsuit against me.
I think it speaks for itself.
No, I'm afraid it doesn't.
I'm sorry that
your father is dead
but he was sent to
prison for killing a man.
On trumped-up
evidence created by you.
No, that's not true.
Look, Mrs. Fletcher, I don't think
we should be talking about this.
This is something for
the courts to decide.
Yes, just as they decided to
send your father to prison, not me.
Mrs. Fletcher, I'm very,
very busy right now, okay?
So would you please leave
or I'm going to have to ask
somebody to make you leave.
No, that won't be necessary.
Stone! Gerry... Oh, hi.
Did I catch you at a bad time?
Yeah, very.
Justin, she was here.
Who?
Mrs. Fletcher.
I didn't know
what to say to her.
You don't have to
say anything, darling.
That's what you
pay your lawyer for.
I just feel so sleazy.
For what? It's not
gonna cost her anything.
Just her insurance company.
Yeah, I know,
but it's just that...
Gerry, this is no time
to lose your nerve.
Believe me, the night we
open Justin's Restaurant,
you'll forget all about this.
Uh, gotta run. Here
comes the grand dragon.
See you tonight. I'll bring
home some cheesecake.
I trust, Mr. Fields,
that your duties here
are not interfering
with your personal life.
Sorry, Mr. Von Steuben.
A personal emergency.
Involving your banker?
Sir?
I am a tolerant man,
Fields, even forbearing,
but I am not amused by pastry
chefs with delusions of grandeur.
Sorry, sir, you've lost me.
Yes, just the thing
I hoped to avoid.
I am not amused by your
heretofore vain attempts
to raise the capital to
fund your own restaurant.
Sir, I assure you, I...
And I assure you, I will enforce your
contract with every means available to me.
I do not relish
seeing my clientele
spirited away by some
ambitious employee.
You are a competent
chef, Fields,
but a hopeless businessman
as your two previous
bankruptcies attest to.
Do I smell something burning?
Stay very calm, Patricia,
and answer my questions
slowly and quietly.
And if you can manage
a little catch in your throat
every once in a while, that's
great, only don't overdo it.
Now stop moving your head.
You have a pinched
vertebrae, remember?
Excuse me a minute.
Well, what do you say?
How you doing, Ray?
Charlie, isn't that a little
bit much, even for you?
Nurse, orderly, wheelchair?
Yeah, I tried to
get a doctor, too,
only all of my really good
guys are out of town, testifying.
So, what brings you
here, as if I couldn't guess?
Charlie, that complaint
against J.B. Fletcher's
a sack of chicken
feathers, and you know it.
Oh, I don't think a
jury'll see it that way.
Have you met the lady? I
hear she's a real busybody.
We're not gonna settle.
Who's talking about settling?
We're talking $50 million here.
So it takes three or four
years to get on the docket?
So what?
I mean, for numbers like that,
I've got the patience of Job.
So do we.
I'm on my way right now to see the
detective on the case, Lieutenant Lewis.
Well, you've got
yourself a long trip.
Lewis died. Last
year. Heart attack.
Who you really ought to talk
to is the state's chief witness,
Angelo Vitello, only I'm
not going to let you do that.
Not just yet.
What are you talking about?
It's all here, Ray.
I took his deposition
last week, at his home.
You and Mrs. Fletcher might want to
look that over, and then we'll have a talk.
Hey.
Nice seeing you.
Mrs. Fletcher? Yes.
Hi. Sergeant Paulsen.
You probably don't remember me.
I worked with Lieutenant Lewis
on the Eddie Stone murder case.
Oh, yes, yes, of course.
Nice to see you again.
I don't blame you for
not remembering me.
I was a size 36 back then.
That was right
before my wife left me,
and I was passed over for
Sergeant three straight times.
Kind of, you know, went
to my waistline a little bit.
Yes, yes, yes,
of course. Well...
I guess they told you about
the Lieutenant dying last year.
Yes. I was so
sorry to hear that.
Me, too. He was my rabbi.
You know, guardian angel.
I kind of miss the guy.
Well, anyway, what
can I do for you?
Well, I'm not really
quite sure. You see...
I wanted to review
the case with him.
The fact is, Sergeant,
I am being sued.
No kidding? What for?
Well, Edward Stone's
daughter claims
that my involvement in the
case led to her father's conviction.
Well, she sure has got that right.
We couldn't have done it without you.
Yeah, well, that isn't
exactly what I wanted to hear.
Believe me, Lewis didn't have a
clue until you put him on the right track.
Oh, Gummy Bear?
Oh, no, no, thank you.
Mrs. Fletcher.
Oh, Mr. Dandridge.
We have to talk. Now.
Sergeant, this is my
attorney, Raymond Dandridge.
Hi. How do you do?
Sergeant Paulsen.
Sergeant, would you
excuse us for just a moment?
Oh, sure.
It's time for my
lunch break, anyway.
If you need to see those
files, just say the word, okay?
Thank you.
Mrs. Fletcher, we have
trouble. Serious trouble.
Do you remember a man
named Angelo Vitello?
Oh, yes, of course. He was the cab
driver who picked up Edward Stone
late that night, just a block
from the murder scene.
A pretty important
witness, would you say?
Oh, yes. He was
the key to the case.
I was afraid you were going
to say something like that.
You see, Mr. Vitello has
suddenly had a change of heart.
He says the only reason that
he identified Edward Stone
was because you
talked him into it.
And he says
that you paid him
$5,000 to lie under oath.
Frankly, Mrs. Fletcher,
this is a terrible idea.
So you keep telling me.
Would you please wait?
Now, I want you to know I don't
believe the man's accusation.
Not for a moment.
Well, thank you.
But still and all, his
statement is very specific.
Unless he's an
out-and-out liar... He is.
But you also said he was
a very charming gentleman.
Open, cheerful, very likeable.
Yes, but that's
what troubles me.
I mean, how could he make this
accusation when he knows that it's false?
This is it.
Yes? Mrs. Vitello?
I'm Mrs. Vitello.
My name is Jessica
Fletcher. This is Mr. Dandridge.
I've come to see your husband.
Well, he's busy right now.
Oh, please. I've
come such a long way.
Would you at least
tell him that I'm here?
It's very important.
Wait here.
I'm sorry, but Angelo
can't see you right now.
He's... He's taking a nap.
Oh.
Look, he hasn't been
feeling well lately.
Next time, call first, okay?
I'm sorry. Excuse me.
Italian ice! Italian ice!
Well, she was telling the
truth about one thing, anyway.
He's not well.
He's at least 40 pounds lighter
than when I remember him.
And they've got him on oxygen.
Mrs. Fletcher, Jessica, please,
I know how upset you are,
but will you leave this to me?
I'm sorry, but I can't do that.
Look, would you mind giving
me a lift to the police station?
I'd like to go
through the files.
Here you go, Mrs. Fletcher.
Oh, thank you. Mmm-hmm.
Mrs. Fletcher.
I don't know if you remember me.
Oh, but of course I
do, Miss Stephenson.
How nice to see you again.
Thank you.
You know, technically, you really
shouldn't be reviewing those files.
Not without a court order.
Well, on the other hand,
I shouldn't be accused of
suborning perjury, either.
I presume you've talked
to Sergeant Paulsen?
I asked him to call you.
And for the record, I don't
believe Vitello's accusation.
Well, thank you.
On the other hand, it's a pretty
serious charge. I can't just ignore it.
It's not just a civil suit now.
It involves a possible
criminal offense.
Oh, how well I know that.
You know, when I
prosecuted Edward Stone,
my case quite frankly,
rested on two things,
the circumstantial evidence,
and Angelo Vitello's
uncorroborated testimony.
So if it turns out
that he was lying,
for whatever reason,
well, my entire case,
based on your theory,
just won't hold up.
He was not lying. Not then.
Well, I don't think so either.
But I'm in kind of
a difficult position.
You see, I've been asked to
run for District Attorney next year.
Oh, I see.
Well, something like this could really
destroy my chances for the nomination.
I just hope you decide not to
settle this civil suit out of court.
Well, my insurance company
seems more than willing to negotiate
but I wouldn't
think of doing so.
Good for you.
You know, it's one thing
to lie in a sworn deposition.
It's quite another to make it stick in an
open courtroom under cross-examination.
Oh, you didn't let me
down six years ago,
you're not gonna
let me down now.
We'll be in touch.
You bet.
Taxi!
Mrs. Fletcher? Yes.
Just the lady I came to see.
Charles Emmett
Cosmo, Attorney at Law.
Oh. yes. Mr. Cosmo.
I represent... Yes, I
know who you represent.
I'm really surprised to see that you
actually came here to this police station.
Excuse me, lady. Do you
want the cab or don't you?
Oh, yes. Why don't
you just get on with it?
Wait, please.
I gave you a lot more
credit, Mrs. Fletcher.
A lady of your
experience and intelligence
especially around a
courtroom. Excuse me?
You see, my client and
I, we're talking civil action.
Just a quiet little suit with
a quiet little settlement.
Something that could be handled
in an hour or so, over a cup of coffee.
And now, you see, you've
brought the law into it.
Mr. Cosmo, hard as it may
be for you to grasp the concept,
I was not involved in
subornation of perjury.
Lady!
Go. Stay!
Go, stay. Tourists.
Mrs. Fletcher, don't
misunderstand me.
I just don't want to see
you in any more trouble.
Now I've lost my cab.
So what are you telling me?
That you're gonna let this thing
drag on for three or four years?
If that's what it takes.
And then what? You're
going to get crucified.
I seriously doubt it. Taxi!
Why? Because you're innocent?
Lady, that doesn't
have a lot to do with it.
Don't you understand
that judges and D.A.'s
will bend over backwards
to avoid the impression
that they're kowtowing
to a celebrity?
The trial gets twice as tough.
In the mornings,
at the courthouse,
there'll be a bunch of
lawyers swarming all over you,
and at night the phone
will ring off the hook.
Do you seriously want to
put yourself through that?
Mr. Cosmo, I am still
naive enough to believe
that in a court of
law, truth will prevail.
Go through it?
I look forward to it.
Excuse me.
This is just great.
Give the maitre d' your
name, and off he goes.
"One moment" he says. It's been
longer than a moment, Jessica.
Have you recently given
up smoking or something?
You're very edgy.
I'm not edgy.
I just hate paying
$100 a head for dinner
and then have to suffer
rudeness in the bargain.
Maybe now you can tell
me what this "good reason" is
you have for coming here.
It surely can't be the food.
Well, I've heard interesting
things about their pastry.
Mrs. Fletcher.
How delightful to
meet you at last.
Elliot Von Steuben,
a devoted admirer.
Why, thank you.
My friend, Raymond Dandridge.
Mr. Dandridge. Oh, pleased.
I've reserved a very
special table for you.
I've also ordered up an
excellent '78 Cabernet,
which I'm sure you'll enjoy.
Oh, that sounds delicious.
And if there is something special
you would like, anything at all,
just ask your waiter. No
request will be too difficult.
I just don't know what
to say, Mr. Von Steuben.
Say? You need say nothing.
What you have
written speaks volumes.
I confess to say, I am
a shameless aficionado
of the well-crafted
murder mystery.
Christy, James, Fletcher.
My library is small, but select.
Bon appetit. And if there is anything
you need, I am at your service.
Thank you.
It's incredible.
The man oozes snake oil.
We'll wait a few
minutes before ordering.
Certainly.
Jessica, what's all
this about pastry?
I did some research
on Geraldine Stone.
She's involved with a pastry
chef here named Justin Fields.
He's been trying for months,
unsuccessfully, to raise enough
money to open his own place.
Well, this is a
high-risk business.
Oh, yes. And Mr. Fields has
two bankruptcies to prove it.
What's your point?
This sudden lawsuit, totally
without merit, popping up at a time
that her boyfriend needs to
raise about a half a million dollars.
You tell me.
Well, she's suing
you for 50 million.
Which she couldn't possibly hope
to collect for three or four years.
Now, the question is
what might you and the
insurance company settle for now
to avoid the nuisance
of the lawsuit.
I see. That would
explain a lot of things.
Mmm-hmm.
Raymond. It's Geraldine Stone.
Something's making her unhappy.
And I think the pastry
chef's about to hear about it.
Maybe your idea of confronting
her wasn't such a bad one, after all.
Excuse me, Mrs.
Fletcher. A call for you.
Oh, thank you. Hello.
Mrs. Fletcher. It's
Sergeant Paulsen.
Your hotel told me
where I could find you.
Oh. What's the matter, Sergeant?
The paramedics just responded to
a 911 in Angelo Vitello's apartment.
They're taking him
to Bellevue now.
Oh. What happened?
I don't know. But if you want to
talk to the guy, you better hurry up.
I don't think he's gonna
make it till morning.
Sergeant, how is he?
Breathing, but that's about
it. They've got him in ICU.
Did you get a
chance to talk to him?
He hasn't regained
consciousness.
Well, what happened?
The doc thinks he went
into a diabetic coma.
They're running some tests.
Now, his wife's in
the waiting room.
She's holding up pretty good.
Ray, would you excuse me?
I'll see if I can
find the doctor.
There, there, Mrs. Vitello.
I'll say a prayer for
him at tonight's mass.
Excuse me. Mrs. Vitello.
Oh.
Mrs. Fletcher.
I'm so very sorry.
I hope that your husband's
going to be all right.
Thank you.
Look, I want to apologize for
my rudeness this afternoon.
Oh, please.
I get very protective.
On his bad days,
Angelo, he tires easily
and company upsets him.
You know, he hasn't been out of
the house for the past eight weeks.
Well, how long has he been sick?
A couple of years.
Oh, the diabetes has
always been with him
but then, two
years ago Christmas
they found the
cancer in his lung.
Well, they took out what they
could, but we knew it wasn't enough.
Look, I know you
want to talk to him.
About that murder case.
Oh, listen, the important thing
is to get him
through this crisis.
He's not getting through it.
Not this time.
I've been with him
all day, all night,
watching him die,
hour after hour.
All except tonight.
Tonight, I go down the
street to a neighbor's
to watch her kids
for a couple of hours,
so she and her
husband can go out.
It's their anniversary.
And when I come home...
You know, after
they laid him off,
when he was too sick
to work, he gave up.
I could see it in his face.
Thirty years he
gave that company.
Never late, never an excuse.
Just like that, they fired him.
No benefits, no nothing.
Even his life insurance.
It was just like he'd
never ever been there.
Jessica?
Excuse me.
Jessica, Vitello didn't make it.
He died about five minutes ago.
I talked to one of the nurses.
Oh, that poor woman.
I mean, she said she was
resigned to it, but I don't know.
This is gonna hit her hard.
Real hard, Mrs. Fletcher.
We got a real sicko
running around.
Explain that, Sergeant.
Vitello's back door.
Somebody punched in the
glass pane next to the door handle.
An intruder?
That's just for openers.
The lab just double-checked
their blood test.
Came out the same
way both times.
Vitello's bloodstream
was loaded with sugar
and we found a syringe
tossed away in the backyard.
It still had traces on it.
Traces of what?
Pure dextrose.
Somebody broke in, injected
the guy to bring on his attack.
What we're talking
here is murder.
I'm sorry, sir, but
Mr. Cosmo is in with a client.
Miss, I phoned him early this morning
and told him I would be here at 10:00.
Sir, I'm sorry, but he left specific
instructions not to be disturbed.
Don't worry about
a thing, Miss Stone.
Mr. Vitello's death
doesn't change anything.
I intend to pursue this lawsuit.
Good.
'Cause I'm more determined
than ever to see it through.
Thanks, Mr. Cosmo.
I'll be in touch.
Ray.
Sorry to keep you waiting.
Tell me something, Charlie,
is your client theatrically trained
or was that performance
last-minute coaching?
Come on, you know
me better than that.
Absolutely.
Face it, Ray.
It doesn't matter whether
Angelo Vitello's dead
or he's alive.
I've got your client dead-bang.
His deposition was
sworn and notarized.
No jury is gonna
buy a piece of paper.
From a dying man,
anxious to cleanse his soul?
Come on, Ray.
Let's you and I stop screwing
around, and settle on a figure.
No deal.
A few years down the road, this is
gonna cost you guys a lot of zeroes.
And your boss isn't gonna
be too happy when he finds out
that you could've settled
today for a box of Cracker Jacks.
What are Cracker Jacks
going for these days?
A little less than a million.
Not even for a dollar.
Mrs. Fletcher says it's
a lie, and I believe her.
Yeah? And when did
you get to be so righteous?
Maybe since somebody murdered Angelo
Vitello to make sure he never testified.
Well, it wasn't my client.
Did I mention names?
I'm just telling you, Charlie.
There's a point at which
even I won't do business.
And you have a nice day.
Ray, when it comes to people
with a motive to keep Angelo Vitello
off the witness stand you know
who's numero uno, don't you?
Your client.
Oh, hey, that's a stretch.
Even for you, Charlie.
Maybe so.
But I happen to know that
the police have a witness
who saw a woman leave
the Vitello brownstone
around 7:30.
And judging by the description,
it could easily be Mrs. Fletcher.
Sergeant?
Oh. Mrs. Fletcher.
They told me at the
station you'd be here.
Where's Mrs. Vitello?
She's at the church,
making arrangements.
Did you find anything?
Aside from the broken pane
in the kitchen door, not much.
I understand that a woman was
seen leaving the building last night
around 7:30 or so.
Who told you that?
Oh, Mr. Dandridge.
And he heard it from Mr. Cosmo.
Oh, I wonder where he got that,
from the bulletin
board at headquarters?
Incidentally, for the record,
I was in my room at the hotel between 7:00
and 8:00 last night, changing for dinner.
Then I took a cab to the restaurant,
where I met Mr. Dandridge.
Did I ask?
Well, not yet.
They have quite a formidable
security system here.
Too bad it wasn't
operating last night.
Whenever Mrs. Vitello
would leave the apartment,
her husband would never use
the slide bolts, in case, you know,
he passed out or something,
she would be able to get back in.
So anyone with a credit card
could've opened the door latch.
Or the victim could
have let someone in.
That, too.
Mrs. Vitello left at 6:15
and came back around 8:30.
She found her husband comatose
on the floor, so she called 911.
The ambulance came within 10
minutes and rushed him to the hospital.
Well, then the woman
seen leaving the building...
Was not Mrs. Vitello.
She was with the neighbor's
children the entire time.
Now, the other woman was
of indeterminate middle age,
blonde hair under a
hat, and dark glasses,
and she left from the
front of the building.
Dark glasses at night?
It sounds as if she didn't
want to be recognized.
My thoughts exactly.
Sergeant, excuse me, you
mentioned that a syringe was found
in the rear yard.
Yes. About 10 yards
from the kitchen door.
Oh. But doesn't that
seem rather odd?
I mean, if this woman was
involved in Mr. Vitello's death
and left by the front door,
why was the syringe
found at the back door?
I mean, it seems to me that the killer must
have dropped or tossed the syringe away,
as he left by the back.
Listen, Mrs. Fletcher,
I happen to think you're
a really terrific lady.
And I am absolutely sure
you had nothing to do with this.
On the other hand,
I have a captain who really doesn't
know you quite as well as I do,
and he made a suggestion that...
You know it really wasn't
a suggestion, it was...
You know, being that there's a witness, and
you really don't have a terrific alibi...
Well, let me put
it to you this way.
All right, ladies, line up
under your assigned numbers.
Face front.
Hands down at your side.
Thank you.
Well, Mrs. Torgeson?
I don't know.
It was kind of dark.
I wasn't that close.
I only really got a sideway
glance, as she was hurrying away.
All right, ladies,
turn to your right.
No, no, the other way.
And now to your left.
How about now?
It could be. Maybe.
Maybe number two.
But I saw her moving,
you know what I mean?
Face forward, ladies.
Number two, please step forward.
Me? Yes, you. Number
two, step forward.
Walk briskly to
your left, please.
Now, just a minute, Sergeant.
Briskly to your
left, number two.
No, I don't think so.
But you're not sure?
I'm an old lady with bad eyes.
What do you want
from me, pictures?
Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.
Oh, Mrs. Fletcher, thanks
so much for your cooperation.
I guess you're off the hook,
for the time being, at least.
For the time being?
Well, the eyewitness really
turned out to be of no use to us.
Well, with the darkness, and the
obvious disguise the woman was wearing,
she really couldn't
make a positive ID.
Oh, I'm sorry to hear
that, Miss Stephenson,
because I was going to volunteer to
go through again, on one condition,
that you join the line-up.
Me?
Well, I suppose that
would be amusing.
Oh, my goodness, it's almost
2:30, and I haven't eaten lunch.
Would you care to join me?
I think that you and I
have a lot to talk about.
All right.
How did you know I was the one at
the Vitello apartment house last night?
Well, I didn't, for sure.
But you had as much to lose by
Mr. Vitello's testimony as anyone.
I simply put the blonde hair
together with the disguise.
Made sense.
I didn't kill the
man, Mrs. Fletcher.
I went there to talk to
him privately, that's all.
And the disguise was
necessary. I mean,
how would it look for
the next District Attorney
to be seen meeting with a man
who claims to have been bribed
to commit perjury in a
case I won six years ago?
And did you discuss
that case with him?
No. I knocked several times,
but there was no answer.
I could hear the television
set, so I knew he was there,
but he wouldn't answer.
Or couldn't.
And when was that?
Was it around 7:30?
Yeah.
Look, I know it was stupid
but that deposition of
his was just a total lie.
It had to be.
And I just wanted to
get to the bottom of it.
One-on-one.
Now, you say you
heard the television.
Did you hear him moving
around in the apartment?
No.
Welcome, Mrs. Fletcher.
Welcome again.
Thank you. This is...
Miss Anne Stephenson.
Miss Stephenson, delighted. I've
seen you often on the late news.
The camera does
not do you justice.
Won't you join us?
Oh, I would be
delighted, however...
Actually, Miss Stephenson
would like to ask you
a couple of questions
about last night.
But of course.
How may I help you?
Well, I...
Actually, Miss Stephenson
would like to have a chat
with your pastry
chef, Justin Fields.
Ah, yes.
I can give you his home address.
You mean he's not here?
No. Nor will he be.
I let him go last evening.
A most disagreeable and
undependable gentleman,
despite his considerable
skill with a baking pan.
It's excellent. Saucy,
but not impudent.
Undependable?
Last evening, he
sneaked out the back door,
and left the petits
fours to his assistant.
Unconscionable.
Uh, about what time was that?
Shortly before 7:00.
And when did he return?
He didn't.
Oh, but I saw Geraldine
Stone here last night.
I just assumed that she'd
come here to see him.
Oh, she did. And she was only
slightly less disappointed than I was
to find him missing.
I called him this morning, to
notify him of his termination.
He found it amusing.
He said he'd worked his
last shift as a pastry chef.
Dear fellow. I wonder
what he knows that I don't.
Mrs. Fletcher, what
are you doing here?
Oh, I came to see
you, Miss Stone.
Your office told me that you'd
taken a couple of days sick leave.
This must be Mr. Fields.
How do you do?
Hi.
I'm sorry that I missed you
at the restaurant last night.
I hear you make a
wonderful cheesecake.
You didn't come here to discuss
cheesecakes, Mrs. Fletcher.
No, I didn't.
My, this is quite
a lovely place.
Or it will be, when
you get it all fixed up.
I talked to the
owner this morning.
He told me that you took a
lease on the place last month.
Not that it's any
of your business.
Well, I'm afraid it's
very much my business.
The lawsuit saw to that.
But actually what's
far more important is
who killed that poor, sick
old man in the wheelchair?
Well, it wasn't me.
I wanted him alive,
to testify at your trial.
Did you? I wonder.
Your lawyer seems to think
he'd have just as good a case
even with Mr. Vitello dead.
Perhaps even stronger.
After all, you can't
cross-examine a corpse.
That's a pretty lousy
suggestion, Mrs. Fletcher.
Murder's lousy, too, Mr. Fields.
And so is that absurd
accusation against me.
But I can guess why you made it,
to pressure my insurance company
into making and out-of-court settlement.
How much do you
need to open this place?
A half a million?
Wait a minute. My father
is dead because of you.
The owner of this building says you
gave him a $10,000 deposit, Mr. Fields.
Though according to the
bank check you paid him with
the money came from Miss
Stone's savings account.
What else did you pay from
that account, Miss Stone?
What the hell are
you talking about?
Suppose I told you
that Sergeant Paulsen
is at the courthouse
at this very moment
getting an order to open up your financial
records for the past three months.
You're lying. No.
I just used the word "suppose".
But judging by your reaction,
I think it's a wonderful idea.
Excuse me.
Wait a minute, wait,
Mrs. Fletcher, wait...
Gerry, don't be stupid.
Look, I really didn't
want to do this.
It just seemed like an easy
way to make some quick money
without anybody getting hurt.
Except the insurance
company and my reputation.
Gerry, shut up, or
you could end up in jail.
Look, maybe I don't care
anymore, all right, Justin?
You know, I never should have let
you talk me into this in the first place.
If you want to walk,
go ahead and walk.
You know, that's exactly
what I'm going to do.
Thanks for nothing.
If you felt like shedding
a few tears, I wouldn't.
I honestly don't
think that he's worth it.
That doesn't exactly
come as a hot news flash.
All right, Mrs. Fletcher,
what do you need to know?
You paid Vitello
$25,000 in cash to lie?
Well, no, I didn't
pay him personally.
That was handled by
my attorney, Mr. Cosmo.
No kidding?
Charlie Cosmo bribing a witness?
This is my lucky day.
And he paid the money
directly to Mr. Vitello?
Oh, yeah, yeah.
In his living room.
It was about three weeks ago.
Mr. Vitello was too
sick to leave the house.
But if he was too sick
to leave the house...
Sergeant, are you
thinking what I'm thinking?
Oh, yes, ma'am.
Hey, you jerk! What's the rush?
Come on, move it!
Sergeant, this is insane.
You've got no right to do this.
Ma'am, I showed you the search
warrant. We have every right.
But there's no
money hidden here.
Three weeks ago your
husband had a visitor,
Charles Cosmo, an attorney.
Yes. He came to
discuss the case.
But no money changed hands.
Are you sure of that? Were you
with them every single moment?
Well, of course not.
Sergeant, we got it.
Where'd you find this? In
the ceiling in the bedroom.
I noticed one of the panels seemed a little
cockeyed, so I pushed it out of the way.
What do you know about this?
Nothing.
This is crazy. I
never saw that before.
Are you quite sure
about that, Mrs. Vitello?
Yes, of course I'm sure.
Officer, is there a stepladder
anywhere in the house?
In the hall closet, ma'am.
It's one of those little
rickety stepladders.
I get it.
Cosmo gave your husband 25
G's while you were out of the room.
Later, he hid the cash in the ceiling
so somebody else would find it.
It's possible, but
not likely, Sergeant.
His legs were very weak.
I mean, he could barely walk.
I doubt very much if
he could have stood
on a short, unstable ladder to
hide the money in the ceiling.
What do you think,
that I put it there?
Did you?
Sure.
That makes sense.
Your husband tells
you about the money.
You can't put it in
a safe deposit box,
because of your
husband's condition.
He could die at any moment.
And then when they opened the
box, how would you explain the cash?
No!
Someone knew the
money was in the house.
Now, whether it was Cosmo,
or the woman, or her boyfriend...
No, Sergeant. I don't think...
They broke in the back door,
killed him with
the sugar injection,
and then started their
search for the money.
I don't think that's
what happened.
Is it, Mrs. Vitello?
Why are you asking me?
You arrived home at, what, 8:30?
You phoned 911, and ten minutes
later the paramedics arrived.
But what did you do during
those ten minutes, Mrs. Vitello?
Do? I don't know what...
I know what most
people would have done.
They would have called a neighbor,
or a friend, perhaps even a priest.
Your husband was
obviously in bad shape.
No, I think that you
did something else.
I think that when you walked in,
you found the
money, and you hid it.
I think you also
found something else.
Mrs. Fletcher, what're
you talking about?
He left you a note,
didn't he, Beatrice?
Do you still have it?
"My dearest wife,
"may God forgive me
what I'm about to do.
"I can't go on like this.
"Lying, hurting people, suffering
myself, and watching you suffer.
"The doctors have
taken everything.
"The medical benefits are gone.
"I have no insurance.
"All I can leave you is
what is in the envelope.
"It is not enough,
but it will have to do.
"But at least you'll be spared
any further pain or hardship.
"Remember always
that I loved you.
"Angelo."
When I came in, he was
slumped over in the chair.
The note and the
envelope were on the table.
The syringe was
on the floor, there.
As soon as I read the note,
I knew what he had done.
He lied about you, Mrs.
Fletcher, but he couldn't live with it.
That's why he did what he did.
He felt so sick and ashamed.
So frightened for his soul.
Is that why you took the
note and hid the money?
Suicide is a mortal sin.
The priest would
never have held a mass.
He could never have been
buried in consecrated ground.
In almost 60 years,
he lived a Christian life.
I couldn't let it end like that.
I only wanted Angelo to
be buried the way he lived.
In a state of grace.
The nightmare is
over, thank God.
Oh, yes.
I wasn't looking forward to
spending the next five years of my life
in and out of courtrooms.
Well, that's the
legal system for you.
Even the innocent
don't get off lightly.
Have you talked to
Anne Stephenson?
What's going to happen
to Beatrice Vitello?
Probation, community service,
a stern lecture from the judge.
At that, she's a very
lucky lady. Oh, yes.
But not so our friend, Charlie Cosmo,
who's staring disbarment dead in the eye.
His peers have been waiting a
long time to get their teeth into him.
Well, thank you, Mr. Dandridge.
It's been a delight meeting you.
But I have to say, I hope we never
find ourselves in this situation again.
Oh, we won't.
Well, I admire your optimism.
Well, it's not
optimism, Jessica.
I'm resigning from the company.
Oh?
Remember when you
first came to see me,
and I suggested we might
settle rather than go to trial?
Oh, yes, I remember.
Well, I realized I was measuring
everything in terms of money.
Bottom line.
I lost track of what I
was supposed to be.
So I think I'm gonna
settle down somewhere,
far away from big cities
and big corporations.
Maybe a little town where I can
hang a "gone fishing" sign on the door
when things get a little slow.
Sounds wonderful.
I know a place like that,
if you don't mind snow.
Quiet and friendly.
And the striped bass are
running twelve months of the year.
I'll give you a call.
I'll be waiting.