Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 7, Episode 2 - Deadly Misunderstanding - full transcript

You know sometimes I
wish that he was dead.

FEMALE NARRATOR:
Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

Hank, you better
watch your mouth,

or you'll be spitting your
teeth out of the hash browns.

Did you just say stabbed?

With a scissors.

Wouldn't you like
some herb tea, Sheriff?

Tea? Mrs. F., I'm trying to
investigate a murder here.

What kind of a girl
did he think I was?

My embarrassing bicycle
accident is nobody's business.

MELISSA ON PHONE: Jeff...



Melissa, what's the matter?

Please help me...

Maybe we should have gone
for the bigger lettering, Mr. Devlin.

No, I think it's adequate
for the purpose, Jeff.

Hi, Melissa.

Hi, Jeff.

If you're finished
there, Mr. Ogden,

we have a newspaper to get out.

Sir?

Oh, right.

JESSICA: Yes, I'll have it
for you Friday at the latest.

Well, I'm polishing the
last two chapters now.

With a pencil.

Thank goodness
it was my left arm.



Oh, yes, I've got
somebody typing for me.

No, no, no, it's fine, really.

No... It was just a
silly fall off my bicycle.

Look, I will phone you as soon
as I've mailed it off, all right?

Bye.

(SIGHS)

(TYPEWRITER CLACKING)

This is such a wonderful
old typewriter, Mrs. Fletcher.

Where did you ever find
it? In an antique shop?

Well, I've had it for
a number of years.

But I don't want to
interrupt your work, Melissa.

Oh, well, I'm ready for a break.

I have to be careful
about not overworking.

My mother says that I
have a frail constitution.

I think it just comes from
being sensitive and creative.

Yes, well, I suppose
that could account for it.

Did I tell you that I'm
taking a writing class?

Oh, yes, I believe you've
mentioned it several times.

Well, I don't want to
keep you from your work.

Well, this is a short story
that I wrote for the class.

Oh, isn't that exciting.

I know it's kind
of an imposition,

but since we're almost collaborators,
maybe you could read it and...

And tell me if it's any good?

Melissa, I would
love to read it.

But I'm afraid it's going to have to
wait until after the book is shipped.

Oh, well, there's no hurry. I
mean, I can't show it to Ralph.

He thinks all my creative
ideas are stupid. Like his aren't.

You have any idea what it's
like being married to a man

whose lips move when
he reads traffic signs?

Ah, yes. Well, I'm going to take my
coffee, and I'm going to continue...

I don't know what his
problem is, actually.

He's always at the lumberyard
doing his billing when I'm at class.

Uh-oh. I better go.

He's gonna be really bent
out of shape if I don't get dinner

on the table by the
time he gets home.

(STAMMERING) Melissa...

I'll see you in the
morning, Mrs. Fletcher.

Yes, and please make it early.

The manuscript's
promised for Friday.

Yeah, Friday. No problem.

(DOOR CLOSES)

(SIGHS)

Hi, darling. How was your day?

It was just wonderful, honey.

What's for dinner?

I didn't see
anything in the fridge.

There's a quiche
florentine on the top shelf.

Oh, is that what that is?

What the hell
kind of food is that?

I'm only thinking of
your cholesterol, Ralph.

Well, I'm gonna starve to death
before my cholesterol gets to me.

Don't get grumpy, Ralph.

It's better to light a candle
than to stumble in the darkness.

Yeah? Who says?

Emily Dickinson.

One of those broads at the beauty parlor
been filling your head with baloney again?

Or is it somebody
in your writing class?

Just forget it!

(DOOR SLAMS)

"Scott had to get there
before her plane left.

"She had to know that it was
he who had saved her reputation,

"that he had done it for her,

"because of all the
women in the world,

"Clarissa was the only
one he could ever love.

"But the gate was closed.

"The great silver bird slipping
away into the ocean of night.

"Scott caught a glimpse of
himself in a glass wall, a man lost,

"perdu.

"And he knew

"he would never
see Clarissa again."

As you know,

it is my custom to read
assignments anonymously.

This story certainly
is filled with emotion.

I thought the
emotion was all phony.

I didn't understand
the hero's motivation.

I liked the part where the young
man saved her from suicide.

Get serious, grandma. It's
undernourished Fannie Hurst.

Strictly comic book material.

Mr. Garrison...

Uh...

I was wondering if you
maybe have read my story?

Not yet, Melissa.

Perhaps we'll
get to it next time.

Good night.

Good night.

How's everything going over
at Mrs. Fletcher's, Melissa?

How's her broken arm?

I don't think it's
bothering her very much.

Good, good.

So, what did you think of
that story tonight in class?

I thought it was wonderful.

I know exactly how Scott felt.

So lost and unhappy...
That was my story.

Really?

Melissa, could...

Could we maybe go for a
cup of coffee or something?

I thought maybe we could talk
a little. You know, about writing.

Well, I guess if it doesn't take
too long, that would be okay.

How about the diner?

I'll follow you.

Okay.

Jessica. Oh, good morning, Rita.

Drew. How's your arm?

What a terrible thing
to have happened.

We just read
about it in the paper.

Yes, so did I.

Well, it's really nothing.

It's more of an
inconvenience than anything.

Yes, I understand one of my
students is helping you with your typing.

(SNEEZES)

Bless you.

RITA: I think he's coming
down with another cold.

They're forecasting rain.
My sinuses confirm it.

Well, nice to see both of you.

Bye. Bye.

Jeff, you don't bury the
school board's major decision

in the fifth paragraph,
you lead with it.

Right. Oh, you're absolutely
right, Mr. Devlin. I'll rework that...

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Oh, hi, Mrs. Fletcher.

Hello, Jeff. J.B. Fletcher,

our community's most
distinguished citizen.

Oh, I should think
that Bennett Devlin

lately of the Washington Globe,
winner of the Pulitzer Prize,

would have that honor now.

No, that's all behind me.

It's just plain Ben Devlin now.

Country editor, citizen,
neighbor and friend.

Please, be seated. Thank you.

I'm sorry to greet my new neighbor,
citizen and friend with a problem,

but I really must protest
about this item on Page 2.

And what is it you
find distasteful?

Two columns about
my fall from a bicycle?

Including the fact that I took the
knee out of my favorite pair of slacks?

I'm surprised that you didn't
publish the X-ray of my arm.

Are the facts in error?

Oh, no. No, no.

The problem is that there are more
facts than are anybody's business,

considering the fact
that I don't remember

giving an interview
to the press.

We have a duty to publish what we
consider news about a prominent citizen.

And I have a
right to my privacy.

The fact is, Mr. Devlin,

my embarrassing bicycle
accident is nobody's business.

Mrs. Fletcher, you
have put your finger on it.

The right to privacy versus
the public's right to know.

Now, that's something we could have
a lively discussion about over dinner.

How about this evening?

Thanks, but I'm busy.

Well, is that a temporary "no," or
have I loused things up permanently?

Well, what I mean to say is that

I'm not making any
plans until I finish my book.

Good. I came back to Cabot
Cove for peace and quiet, not to rust.

We'll make it some other time,
then. Now, if you'll excuse me.

I have a pea-green reporter I
have to continue chewing out.

Thanks for stopping by.

(CLEARS THROAT) Mr. Ogden,
may I see you in here, please?

Trudy, if you ever
decide to deliver,

put me down for a regular order.

That's funny, Ralph,
that's what I'm looking for.

A sweet-talking
man who delivers.

You better count his
money twice, Trudy.

Make sure he's not cheating you.

Well, a man who don't
pay his bills shouldn't cry

when they come and
repossess the goods.

You overcharged me for
those lousy building materials,

then you sneak around
my back, filing liens.

Come on, Hank, that's enough.

He waited till I lost
my job at the bakery,

and then he
forecloses on my house!

Only a crook would
do something like that.

Hank, you better
watch your mouth,

or you'll be spitting your
teeth out of the hash browns.

Hey! Now, why
don't you two chill out,

before I have to book somebody
for disturbing my piece of pie?

This guy's pathetic!

This isn't over yet, Maddox.

You haven't heard
the end of this yet!

Hank, go on back in the kitchen,

and put an ice
pack on your mouth.

(DOOR CLOSES)

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

Where is everybody?

Hi, Melissa.

Oh, class is canceled.

I guess Mr. Garrison
is sick or something.

Oh, I hope it's nothing serious.

Yeah, yeah, me, too.

Oh, well, this is sure
a wasted evening.

My husband's working
late again at the lumberyard.

Well, it doesn't have
to be a wasted evening.

Maybe we could study together.

I mean, I've written
another story.

I'd really like to get
your opinion on it.

Well, I sure hate to go back to that
big, empty house on a stormy night.

Then we'll go to my place.

JEFF: "Mark drove through
the inky night, thinking of her,

"how beautiful she
was, how noble.

"She would never leave
her invalid husband.

"She had made that painfully plain
at their last and final rendezvous.

"He would have to be content
knowing that she loved him.

"He would wait
if it took forever."

That's beautiful.

Really sad.

You liked it?

It's like real life.

I'm sorry my story
made you sad, Melissa.

It's not your story.

It just reminds me of my
own lousy, miserable life...

My husband, Ralph,
a really sweet guy.

Look, this is really
none of my business,

but if you're so unhappy,
why don't you leave him?

And do what?

Support myself
by typing part-time?

Oh, I feel so trapped.

You know, sometimes
I wish that he was dead.

(EXCLAIMS)

Look at the time.

I have to go.

He's gonna be home soon.

I'm sorry, Melissa.

For what? You're
very sweet, Jeff.

If things were different...

(PHONE RINGING)

Hello.

BEN: Jessica? Ben Devlin.

I hope I'm not disturbing you,
calling at this ungodly hour.

At 10:00?

Believe it or not, some people in Cabot
Cove actually stay up until after midnight.

Did I catch you
reading? Working.

Yeah, so am I.

Not that much to do around
here after dark, is there?

Well, if we have a disco,
I haven't heard about it.

How about a good restaurant?

By Washington
standards, doubtful.

Immaterial. It's the
company that counts.

Look, Jessica, I'm
bored out of my mind.

What about that dinner
we were going to have?

Look, I told you, I'm busy.

Well, nonsense. You have to eat.

Now, look, we'll
discuss anything you like.

If we get into an
argument, I'll let you win.

I can't be fairer
than that. Please.

My brain is turning to gruel.

Well, I do have some errands to
do in the village tomorrow morning.

How about breakfast?

Great. 8:00, I'm an early riser.

And as I said, if we get into an
argument, I'm a man of my word.

I'll let you win, no matter
how flimsy your points may be.

Good night.

Well, good night.

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

your lips burn my soul...

(PHONE RINGING)

Hello.

MELISSA ON
PHONE: Jeff... Melissa!

Melissa, what's the matter?

Please help me...

Jeff, can you come over here?

JEFF: Of course.

I'll be there in five minutes.

What happened?

There has been an accident.

JEFF: What happened?

Did he hit you?

No.

I found him like this
when I came home.

It must have been a
burglar or something.

We better call the Sheriff.

We can't!

They'll think that I killed
him, just like you did.

No, no, no. I...

I don't even know
why I said that.

Everybody knows how he treated
me, how miserable he made me.

Look, I thought it all out, and it's
better if they find him at the lumberyard.

You mean, move him?

Well, why not?

Sheriff Metzger will just think that
it was a robber at the lumberyard.

Oh, no... Melissa, that's crazy.

Why don't we
just tell the truth?

Oh, the truth... That I was
over at your house an hour ago,

kissing you on the bed?

They're gonna think that
you and I did it together!

Jeff, you have to help me.

You are the only
one I can count on.

(JEFF GRUNTING)

No, no, no. Not in
your car, in his car!

Oh, right, right. His
car should be there, too.

We gotta get rid of these.

(GROANS) What is it?

It's the dirty
towels. I cleaned up.

All right.

Okay.

We can come back
for my car later.

Well, what if somebody
sees us together?

Oh, right.

Uh... Yeah, it's
better if you stay here.

I'll deal with it.

Okay.

I don't know what
I'd do without you.

Be careful. Don't get caught.

Okay.

(ENGINE STARTS)

Nobody cheats Hank
Crenshaw and gets away with it.

(CAR APPROACHING)

(TRUNK SLAMS. SHUT)

(FOOTSTEPS RETREATING RAPIDLY)

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

I was skimming one
of your books last night.

You have the makings of
a first-rate reporter, Jessica.

Great eye for detail.

Well, I'd rather be a first-rate
mystery writer. But thank you.

Well, the plot was
interesting, and sort of fun,

but in journalism we have to
guard against being too creative.

Who, what, where and
when? Just the facts, ma'am?

No, actually that's a
gross simplification.

We have to find the
story behind the story.

Well, there's a certain amount of
that in mystery writing, too, you know.

You managing all
right with that arm?

Oh, yeah.

Jeff tells me you have
someone typing for you.

Melissa Maddox.

Oh, that'd be Melissa with the sad and
soulful eyes in the creative writing class?

The very same.

I think my young
reporter lusts after her.

In fact, she's probably the
reason he's taking that class.

Oh, well, now that is
one mystery solved.

Your article, "The
Great Bicycle Accident."

Jeff must have got all
his details from Melissa.

We always protect
our source, ma'am.

Yes, and the source is sitting
typing in my house right now,

which is where I
should be going.

Thank you for a
charming breakfast.

Next time, it's on me.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

What do you think, Sheriff?

Ralph Maddox was using this gasoline
to clean that dirty grease off his hands.

Floyd, that gasoline was
splashed all over the place.

More likely Maddox caught
somebody trying to torch the lumberyard.

You better be
careful with that can.

Who'd want to burn
down Ralph's business?

Somebody with a grudge.

Right at the top of that
list is Hank Crenshaw.

He's been real sore at Ralph
ever since Ralph foreclosed on him.

Better get that gas can over to the
lab, and have them check it out for prints.

I've gotta break the
news to Maddox's wife.

Trudy, did you hear
what happened?

Ralph Maddox is dead.

He was murdered
at the lumberyard.

You're kidding! When?

Last night.

Roscoe found him when he
came to work this morning.

Melissa, are you all right?

Yeah. Oh, I'm
sorry, Mrs. Fletcher.

I guess I'm just a little
bit worried about Ralph.

He didn't come home last night.

Oh, does he do that often?

Well, my writing class
was canceled, and...

I just went straight home,
took a couple of sleeping pills,

and went to bed early.

Oh, well, maybe he came
home after you went to sleep,

and then left
before you woke up.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Oh, coming.

Oh, Sheriff. Hi, Mrs. Fletcher.

It's Mrs. Maddox I came to see.

I'm afraid I've got some
bad news for you, ma'am.

Well, what is it, Sheriff?
Has there been an accident?

I'm sorry to have to tell you this,
ma'am, but your husband's dead.

I'm afraid he was murdered.

Oh, no!

No... Oh, poor Ralph.

Oh, Melissa.

I'm so sorry.

He was stabbed to death
sometime last night at the lumberyard.

I told him not to work so late.

He always worked
too hard. Poor Ralph.

Mrs. Maddox,

did you ever hear anybody make
any threats against your husband?

Threats?

Yeah, yeah.

Hank Crenshaw phoned
several times, and he said that...

Well, he owed Ralph a lot of
money, and Ralph foreclosed on him.

Think carefully, ma'am. Did you
ever hear Crenshaw say anything about

burning down the lumberyard?

Arson?

Attempted, anyway.

Um...

Well, yeah, as a
matter of fact, he did.

He said he was gonna
burn down Ralph's business.

But did Ralph ever report
these threats to the Sheriff?

Nope. But it fits.

I had to break up a fight between
them yesterday at the café.

Drew, I just heard on the radio.
Ralph Maddox has been murdered.

How awful.

Ralph who?

You know, the man who
owns the building supply place.

Someone stabbed him.

Can't say I know him.

Sure you do. His
wife's in your class.

Oh, Melissa Maddox.

I suppose we should
send flowers or something.

Did you say stabbed?

With a scissors.

That's what the radio said.

You know, Cabot Cove is getting
to be as bad as New York City.

Well, I'm off to the
market. Bye, darling.

I asked you a question, Hank.
Where were you last night?

I was home, watching television.

Ralph Maddox is
dead. Maybe you heard.

Yeah, I heard.

If you're collecting for
flowers, you can count me out.

Yeah?

You made a lot of threats
against him yesterday.

Oh, hell, Sheriff, come on. You
can't arrest people for talking.

Hank...

We found a gasoline can
at the lumberyard last night.

Prints all over it.

If you were home
watching TV last night,

you won't mind coming in to
have us check your fingerprints.

You got a problem with
that, I can get a warrant.

Hank?

Okay.

So I hated the scumbag.
But I didn't kill him.

No, sir. Not me.

But I know who did.

When I was finished watching
television, the rain had stopped,

I went out for a little walk.

I happened to go
by the lumberyard.

With a gas can under your arm.

Somebody pulled up in Ralph's car
and dumped his body out of the trunk.

Uh-huh.

This somebody who dumped
Ralph's body beside the car

and you just walked
on by, whistling. Right?

Why didn't you report it, Hank?

I couldn't!

You had it figured right.

I was down there to
burn the place down.

So this somebody you
saw dumping the body,

was it Bigfoot?

Or maybe the Ghost
of Christmas Past?

No.

I saw him real clear.

It was that young fellow from
down at the newspaper office,

Jeff Ogden.

JESSICA: That's right.

I'm afraid it won't
be mailed off Friday.

Well, you see,
I've lost my typist.

Well, just temporarily,
due to a death in the family.

(DOORBELL RINGS)

I'm sorry, but there's
someone at the door.

I'll try to line up
another typist.

Yes. Yes, I'll let you know.

(DOORBELL RINGS)

JESSICA: I'm coming!

Jessica, I'm not
interrupting anything, am I?

Well, as a matter
of fact... Oh, good.

Now, I'm doing some
background on the Maddox murder,

and I figured you're
the person to talk to.

Well, I can't imagine why.

Did you hear about
Hank Crenshaw?

Oh, yes, Eve
Simpson just called.

I'm afraid the local grapevine
has the Gazette beat every time.

Yeah? Sometimes
they even get it right.

Now, about Melissa Maddox.

From what I've been able to sniff out
already, she had a marriage made in hell.

Information Central
down at Loretta's Beauty

Parlor has had that
for quite some time.

Since Melissa's worked for you, did
she say anything about her husband?

Anything that might indicate
she was at the breaking point?

Now, look here, Ben, anything
that Melissa might have told me

was certainly in confidence.

And I am not in the habit

of babbling domestic
gossip to the newspapers.

(PHONE RINGING)

Hello?

It's for you.

Devlin.

When?

Why?

Where?

(SLAMS. PHONE)

You forgot "who."

Well, how do you like that?

While I've been wasting my time
here, the Sheriff came to the newspaper

and arrested Jeff Ogden.

You're wrong!

I don't know anything
about any murder!

No?

So how come somebody saw you dumping
Ralph's body in the lumberyard last night?

Now, why don't you make it easy on
yourself, son, and tell me what happened?

Hold it! Hold it! Don't say a word,
Jeff. Not until you talk to a lawyer.

Hold on there, Mr. Devlin.

I already told him he could call a
lawyer, but he wanted you instead.

Good. Now, what evidence do you
have against this young man, Sheriff?

I don't know that's
any of your business.

Wrong. I'm representing
Mr. Ogden at loco parentis.

Loco what?

Ben, "in loco parentis"
means in place of a parent.

Same thing.

I'm his acting attorney, so let's hear
it, Metzger, what have you got on him?

Well, how about his fingerprints
all over the trunk of the victim's car

from which the victim's body was
removed according to an eyewitness?

Circumstantial and hearsay.

Oh, yeah?

Then there's a certain plastic
bag we found in the suspect's trunk.

I certainly hope you
had a search warrant.

Look, Ben, would you please stop

interrupting the Sheriff,
and let him finish?

Thanks, Mrs. F.

Now then, where was I?

You found a plastic bag?

Right.

Inside the garbage bag
were some bloody towels

and a pair of scissors.

Probably the murder weapon.

(CLEARS THROAT)

Sheriff, I'd like to confer privately
for a moment with my client,

if you don't mind.

All right, son, now
here's the deal.

You give me exclusive
rights to your story,

the Gazette will hire you
the best lawyer in the county.

I'm sorry, Mr. Devlin,
but I have nothing to say.

Even to you.

I don't care if that guy's
got a dozen Nobel Prizes,

he's screwing up
my investigation.

Pulitzers.

Whatever.

Am I missing something,

or was the murder committed somewhere
else, and the body moved to the lumberyard?

Well, that's how I read it.

Sure wish Doc
wasn't on vacation.

This county guy's got a
head like a watermelon.

Okay, Mr. Devlin, time's up.

Floyd, you want to
put that guy in a cell?

I got a deadline
to make, anyway.

I don't want you questioning
my client unless I'm present.

And no reporters.

So much for
freedom of the press.

Sheriff, I know this is really
none of my business, but...

Yeah? When did that start?

I really do think that you
should question Melissa again.

Why? Do you know
something I don't know?

Well, not really.
It's just a hunch.

Okay.

We'll both take a whack at her.

When it comes to questioning
hysterical widows, I need backup.

Oh, you'll do just fine. Just
keep it gentle and low-key.

Low-key. Right.

Don't you understand,
Sheriff? I just lost my husband.

Why are you badgering me?

Ma'am, all I ask is if you and
Ralph were happy together?

Happy? What do you mean, happy?

Happy.

You know, like when
married people like each other.

Oh, are you talking
about appearances

or are you talking
about genuine feelings?

Ma'am, if you don't mind,
I'd like to ask the questions.

What was your
relationship with Jeff Ogden?

Mr. Ogden? Why do you ask?

Because we just arrested him for
your husband's murder, that's why.

Did he confess?

No, he denies everything.

But if you ask me, lady...

Melissa, I think I will
have that cup of herb tea.

Sorry? Well, when we got here,

you offered us a cup of tea.

Wouldn't you like
some herb tea, Sheriff?

Mrs. F., I'm trying to
investigate a murder here.

Huh?

Oh, gee. Uh, yeah. I
guess I would like some.

Lemon or milk?

Oh, just plain for
the two of us. Thanks.

Every time I ask that broad a
question, she answers with a question.

Sheriff,

have you noticed anything
interesting about this desk set?

That's the same design
as on the handle of

the scissors we found
in Jeff Ogden's trunk.

And from the looks of the
carpet, this desk has been moved.

Damp. Like it's been
washed recently.

You know, I have a feeling that
Ralph Maddox was killed right here.

I should have figured this from the
get-go. They were in this together.

So, your husband came home
and found the two of you together?

No. Now, look.

Maddox was the kind of guy who could
get violent, so maybe it was self-defense.

Don't admit anything, Melissa.

Look, there must
be some explanation.

I mean, the evidence
is overwhelming.

All right, all right. We
did move the body.

No, Melissa!

But that's all we did.

Ralph was dead when I got home, and
I panicked, because I was afraid of this.

I was afraid of what you
were all going to think.

So Jeff and I decided

that we would move Ralph's
body over to the lumberyard.

Jeff? Why was Jeff there?

He wasn't there. I phoned him,
and he said that he would help me.

So you two just decided to move
the body after you found him dead?

Yes.

I cleaned up the mess, Jeff took
Ralph's body to the lumberyard,

and he was supposed to get
rid of the scissors and the towels,

but I guess he forgot.

Jeff, what do you have
to say about all this?

That's the way it
happened, Mrs. Fletcher.

Okay, I can see I'm
wasting my time here.

Floyd, put him
back in the lockup.

JESSICA: You know, Sheriff,

their story is just
bizarre enough to be true.

Okay. Okay, Mrs. Maddox.

Let's just say I
believe your story.

Your husband was already dead
when you came home from writing class?

That's right.

Now, wait a minute, Melissa, you told me
that your writing class had been canceled.

It was, because
Mr. Garrison was sick.

So Jeff and I read
a story together.

Let me guess.

In his bedroom?

Well, yes.

But I left there because I knew my husband
was coming home from the lumberyard.

He always works
late on my class night.

Take your time
and think about this.

Was there time after
you left Ogden's place

for him to get to your house ahead
of you and maybe kill your husband?

Well, I did drive around
before I went home,

and I parked a little
while to clear my head.

Melissa, didn't you
say that you phoned Jeff

after you got home
and found Ralph's body?

Mrs. F., do you mind?
I'm trying to make a point.

So you and Ogden were sneaking
around behind your husband's back.

No. Okay, Jeff
is in love with me

and I never
encouraged him at all.

But he begged me to leave Ralph, and
he said that he was desperate to have me.

All right, well, what about it? Was there
time for Ogden to get there ahead of you,

maybe have a fight with
your husband, and stab him?

Well, I guess he could have.

So, what do you think
about the story, Jessica?

Wonderful.

If you believe in trial
by the fourth estate.

That is a totally unbiased
story, and you know it.

Oh, for heaven sakes, Ben, you've
crucified them both. Especially Melissa.

And I was certainly
right about her.

Oh, Jessica, don't you see?

Jeff is a lovesick puppy dog.

The woman is using him.

Melissa Maddox
killed her husband.

Now, who knows,
maybe in self-defense,

then duped Jeff into
helping her cover up.

Yes, he does seem more
interested in protecting Melissa

than he does himself.

(PHONE RINGING)

Cabot Cove Gazette. Devlin here.

Who is this?

When?

You're sure of that?

Hold on. I have to
have your name...

You're slipping. You
forgot "what" and "where."

The good old
anonymous phone tip.

Deep Throat is alive and
well, and living in Cabot Cove.

Is it something you'd care to share
with me before your readers get it?

Some lady says she saw Ralph Maddox coming
out of a bar over in River Bend about 9:30

the night he was
murdered, with a lady.

So he lied to Melissa. He
wasn't at the lumberyard.

While Melissa was leading young Jeff
down the garden path in writing class,

Ralph was sneaking
around with Trudy Ludwig.

Trudy?

That's who the anonymous caller
said Maddox came out of the bar with.

And they had one hell of
a fight in the parking lot.

All right, so Ralph and I had a little
argument. It doesn't mean I killed him.

What was going on
between you and Maddox?

Oh, for Pete's sake, Metzger,
they were having an affair,

and Maddox probably told
her he wouldn't leave his wife.

Affair?

It was more like
a one-night stand.

At least that was
Ralph's game plan.

Two drinks, and he wanted to
go to a motel on our first date.

What kind of a girl
did he think I was?

But, Trudy, you knew
that Ralph was married.

Yeah, sure.

But I also knew he'd been
seeing somebody for months.

He gave me this sad story about
just breaking up with his girlfriend.

Men.

Do you have any idea
who that woman was?

He didn't say, and
I wasn't interested.

Well, if that's all there was to
it, how'd you get that bruise?

Well, like I said, Ralph had
romantic plans, and I wasn't buying.

So I told him to take me home,
and on the way we got a flat tire,

which didn't help sweeten up
his disposition, I can tell you that.

Well, that tracks. We
found a flat in Ralph's trunk,

which accounts for the dirt and grease
on his hands when we found the body.

Anyway, in front of my house he
makes another pass, so I slapped him.

He slapped me right back.

He took off. End of story.

So you're saying he was still
alive the last time you saw him.

Oh, he was alive, all right.

Maybe alive enough to
go home and hit on his wife.

I guess that's when she got
him with those scissors, right?

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

(SIGHS)

Well, this changes
everything, Mrs. F.

Well, that's why I thought
you'd better read it.

A badly-written story about a sensitive
young wife, with a goon for her husband,

who's having a steamy love
affair with her English teacher?

A suave, cultured,
sophisticated, older man.

Yeah, and in the end, the
cultured professor fights it out

with the mean
husband with daggers.

The lover kills the husband, and
carries the wife off into the silk sheets.

We've got the wrong
boyfriend here, Mrs. F.

And as soon as Floyd gets her in here,
that lady's got a lot of explaining to do.

Of course, the story
doesn't really prove anything,

but in my experience, beginners
usually write about things

that tend to be
autobiographical.

So in this scenario, Melissa's
lover is her teacher, Drew Garrison.

Wait a minute, wait a minute.

The writing class was
canceled that night.

So Melissa sets herself up with
an alibi with Jeff, the schnook,

while Drew Garrison sneaks
over there and stabs her husband.

Well, that's not a very clever
alibi, under the circumstances.

Sheriff, this is ridiculous.

I have already told
you everything I know.

Oh, yeah?

Well, why don't you tell me about
this story you wrote, Mrs. Maddox?

Floyd, where did
you get that umbrella?

Well, it was raining real hard and
Mrs. Maddox got it out of her closet.

Of course, it was raining
the night of the murder.

And it rained on the Fourth
of July picnic. So what?

Sheriff, the last time I saw that
umbrella, or one exactly like it,

was the day before the murder.

And Drew Garrison
was carrying it.

Mrs. Maddox, I think
you better tell us the truth.

Well, can I have
a cup of coffee?

Drew did it for me.

I mean, he couldn't
stand to see me unhappy,

married to a man who
could never appreciate me.

So you planned it together.

No. Not exactly. I
mean, isn't it obvious?

He didn't want
me to be involved.

That's the way Drew is, he's
so thoughtful and so considerate.

Melissa,

it's hard to believe
that this was all his idea.

Well, it's true. I
mean, I didn't...

I didn't know he was
gonna do it. I wasn't there.

Well, then how can you be
sure that Drew killed him?

Well, I wouldn't have known if I hadn't
seen his car pulling away when I came home,

and I found his umbrella
next to Ralph's body.

See, Drew's in love with
me, and I know how he feels,

even though he never
exactly expressed it.

I mean, all we have to
do is look at each other.

But how could you let
everyone think that Jeff did it?

Well, I never said
that Jeff killed Ralph.

He said that Jeff killed Ralph.

I'm gonna need a statement.

That woman's story is
totally ridiculous, Sergeant.

I was at home with a bad cold
the night that man was murdered.

I can verify that. And I'd be
willing to swear to it in court,

if the charges
weren't so laughable.

Nobody's laughing,
Mrs. Garrison.

As for me being
Melissa's lover...

Well, that's even
more ridiculous.

Oh, yeah?

Well, that's not how it
reads in that story she wrote.

I mean, you did read it?

Yes. I was absolutely
embarrassed by it.

I mean, not only was
it dreadfully written,

she modeled her two-dimensional
character hero on me.

The poor child
fantasized the whole thing.

Oh, Jessica, many of Drew's
students form crushes on him.

Something about my husband
that appeals to the immature female.

Melissa wasn't the first.

Surely you understand.

Oh, yes, I suppose, but...

Lost in a dream world, married
to a man who terrified her.

No doubt she was
sexually repressed.

And when her husband
came home, after drinking,

and he put his greasy,
filthy hands on her, well...

She must have
felt total revulsion,

and she lashed out at him with the
nearest thing at hand, the scissors.

I never left the house
that night. I was too sick.

Rita gave me one of those nighttime
cold preparations, and I dozed right off.

She was even nice enough to go
out in the rain and get me some aspirin.

Oh, how very thoughtful of her.

And did she take her own car?

Yes, of course I did. DREW: No.

Your car was in for
repairs, darling, remember?

You must have taken mine.

And it was raining.

So you did take an
umbrella, didn't you, Rita?

You fool!

It was you,

in Drew's car that
Melissa saw driving away,

just before she
discovered the body.

You were the one
who left the umbrella.

What are they
talking about, darling?

Well, what am I missing here?

Why would you kill Ralph Maddox?

Remember what
Trudy said, Sheriff,

about Ralph just breaking up with
a woman that he'd been seeing?

Possibly a woman who had free evenings,
while her husband was teaching night class.

And Ralph had a pass while
Melissa was in class, too.

That's disgusting.

I'm sorry, Rita, but
you've given yourself away.

There's no way that you could have
known about Ralph having soiled hands,

unless you'd been there
when he got back home.

That wasn't in the newspaper.

You and Ralph Maddox?

Were you out of your mind?

At least he didn't drop Latin
phrases at the dinner table,

or whistle Mozart in the shower.

At least he was a real man.

And he made me
feel like a woman.

Ralph phoned me that night.
He wanted to get back together.

Drew was in bed with
one of his silly colds.

Ralph was wet, dirty.
He'd been drinking.

He thought he could just snap his fingers
and everything would be the same as it was.

Then he told me he'd been with
Trudy, and she'd turned him down.

Suddenly I saw
him for what he was.

I felt unclean.

And then he put those
filthy hands on me and...

I don't even remember
when I grabbed the scissors!

JESSICA: Really? When?

Oh, my goodness!

Well, Seth, is
everything all right?

You're sure?

All right. Well, give
Margie my love.

And I'll see you when
you get back, okay?

Right. Bye.

That was Seth Hazlitt.

His daughter was expecting
a baby three or four days ago,

but now it looks as if
it'll be another week.

Ah, the joys of parenthood.

Well, I can't wait
to meet this guy.

I hear he's even more pigheaded
and opinionated than you are.

Oh, thanks.

You know, Jessica, I really
should be annoyed with you

for not phoning me for the big
finish when Rita Garrison confessed.

Well, I hadn't planned
it that way, believe me.

And Melissa fantasized the
whole affair with Drew Garrison?

Compared to her husband,
Drew Garrison was a dream lover.

Drew apparently hardly
even thought about her,

until he turned up in her story.

Well, I should
have figured it out.

Now, I knew the killer was
a woman. I had that right.

All those years on the big city
newspaper beat, you have an instinct.

Which reminds me...

I couldn't interest
you in a job, could I?

Just for a few days, until I
can find myself a new reporter.

Well, what happened
to Jeff Ogden?

Gone off to the big
city to lick his wounds.

Melissa totally
disillusioned him.

It's good for him.
Toughen him up.

Might even make a good
newspaperman someday.

Well, thanks for the offer, but
journalism is your beat, not mine.

Writing is writing.

Why, some of our best authors

have been
newspapermen at one time.

Hemingway, Forsyth, Ben Hecht.

Is this the one argument
that you're going to let me win,

I hope?