Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 7, Episode 7 - The Return of Preston Giles - full transcript
Out on parole, Jessica's former publisher tries to woo her back into the fold.
I'm bringing back the man
who started the company.
Preston Giles? He's
in jail for murder.
FEMALE NARRATOR:
Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.
Start with J.B. Fletcher.
She's the one who
put me behind bars.
Preston?
Forgive me for
surprising you like this.
Oh no, get away from me!
You seem to have
some sort of allergy.
I'm allergic to you.
Breakfast tomorrow, if you wish.
I think it's best
if... If we didn't.
Apparently, crime does pay.
Get out of my sight!
ROSS: Al, you're killin' me.
Look, all we're talkin'
is another 5,000 copies.
End of the month,
you have my word.
Al? Al? Al, why don't you let me
worry about the paper suppliers,
and you stick to the printing
and the binding, okay?
Okay, thanks, buddy.
Yeah, you're a prince.
Bastard.
You were supposed to
come home two days ago.
Yeah, well, if you'd
return my calls,
you'd know why I didn't.
I had my hands full, remember?
And?
Kendall's nervous.
I don't blame him.
If I were refinancing you and
that broken-down operation
to the tune of $20 million,
I'd want some assurances that
it wasn't going into Chapter 11
before the ink dried.
I told you... Spare me, Ross.
It's all smoke.
The blockbuster titles, the
name writers coming back...
Linette...
Please. You know, I should
have gone with my instincts
and not mixed
business with family.
No, instead I had to
put my job on the line...
Linette! To keep you from
sinking into the East River.
Damn it, Ross, there is more to
taking over a company than just...
Save the sermon,
will you, Linette?
Look, your boss and I
go back a few semesters.
He never would've touched this deal
if he thought it might embarrass him
or the bank or his
neurotic little wife.
Now, trust me.
Sutton Place Publishing
is about to regain its image
as the A-one class act
in the bestseller business.
How? With mirrors?
You might say that, yeah.
A mirror to the past.
I'm bringing back the man
who started the company.
Preston Giles? He's
in jail for murder.
Not for long.
I spent the better part of a month
pulling strings and calling in markers.
He gets out on parole Tuesday.
I understand. No,
believe me, I understand.
(GATE CLATTERING)
He's coming out. I have to go.
Hey, trust me, this
is going to work.
A couple of weeks from now,
you and I are gonna have
a big monkey off our back
thanks to Mr. Preston Giles.
Yeah. Call you later.
Mr. Giles.
Ross McKay.
I have been looking
forward to this moment, sir.
Mr. McKay.
What do you say we begin
by dropping the "misters"?
Welcome aboard, Preston.
Well, thank you, Ross.
Look, I understand.
You were totally up front
with me in your letters.
All I ask is that you
keep an open mind,
because I'm going to prove
that you're wrong about me.
And what the hell,
worst case scenario,
it's got to be better than
another eight or ten years in there.
Right?
Forgive me.
I guess this is going to
take some getting used to.
Mmm, okay. So you
don't like my style.
And maybe Sutton Place
Publishing isn't what it used to be.
Nobody's perfect.
On the other hand, I
wasn't jailed for murder.
I'm sorry, that
was uncalled for.
Listen, if I hadn't
pulled off my takeover,
then some fifth-rate
greenmail operator
who never read a book
in his life would have.
Sutton Place Publishing
would be history by now
and you'd still be inside.
So, are we still on?
Yes, we're on.
End of discussion.
You know, Preston,
whether you believe me or not,
I am deadly serious about this,
about returning
Sutton Place Publishing
to the kind of
class act you ran.
Something you can be proud of.
And I'm convinced that
together, we can pull it off.
Okay.
So, as we discussed,
we need to get some
quality product in the pipeline.
Which means that we
have to restore our list
of first-class writers.
Start with J.B. Fletcher.
Jessica?
She's the lynchpin.
Look, during your watch,
Sutton Place Publishing
was known for its
quality mysteries.
You nail her,
I know of a dozen top writers
that'll come flocking back.
Well, I don't know, Ross.
What's to know?
Well, she's the one
who put me behind bars.
So what?
You launched the woman's
career. She's your discovery.
She owes you and she knows it.
LINETTE: Ross,
about this weekend.
I'm gonna to have to
go out to Long Island.
I've got to meet with some
investors from California.
Wonderful.
Be sure and give Kendall
my regards, won't you?
Mr. McKay, I'm sorry,
one of our paper
suppliers is on line four.
They're refusing delivery
unless they get a check.
Tell them to hold.
Linette, I am getting a
little tired of your excuses...
Ross, it's business. Stop
behaving like a jealous schoolboy.
(KNOCK ON DOOR)
Linette, I need to talk to
you about the Felson merger.
Of course, Mr. Stafford.
Darling, I've got a
meeting in five minutes.
Besides, we have the whole
weekend to look forward to.
Oh, that's off, I'm afraid, Lin.
Millie volunteered my services as
toastmaster for the Hunt Club Ball,
and forgot to tell me
about it until this morning.
Oh.
Well, that's
probably just as well.
My husband needs my help
preparing for next week's audit.
I hope that's all the
help you're giving him.
I'm sure it's no more than
you're giving your wife.
Mr. Giles.
Mr. Whitcomb just called.
He said he's running late.
Oh? I thought I asked you to
move that meeting back to 4:00
and shift Carruthers to Monday.
Oh, dear, yes, yes, you did,
and I did write it down somewhere.
Gloria, you're having
a problem, aren't you,
working with me?
Problem? I...
No, no, Mr. Giles.
I know it's silly of
me, but... Forgive me.
I should have been more
sensitive of the situation.
Look, if you'd prefer to
leave, I'd certainly understand.
Oh, no, no, I'd
much rather stay.
But you have to
understand, Mr. Giles.
I know it's irrational,
but everything frightens me.
Crossing the street,
riding the subway.
That doesn't sound
irrational to me.
Oh.
I'm your basic frightened
person, but I'm working on it.
I read books on the
subject, I take classes,
I try and psych myself.
So, if you'll just
be patient with me.
MARTIN: Well.
I see that Ross has
chosen to ignore my advice.
Apparently, crime does pay.
It seems to have
paid for you, Martin.
You're as predictable
as ever, Preston.
May I remind you that your accusations
against me were never proven
because they were
totally without merit.
Believe me, Martin, if I
hadn't gotten myself in trouble,
I not only would
have proven them,
I'd have seen to it that you
were locked up as you deserve.
Now, what did you
want to see me about?
I suppose it's to be expected
that your years of incarceration
have nurtured your paranoia.
Believe it or not, I am not
the cause of all your problems.
I know that.
I have no one but
myself to blame
for the mess I made of
my life and this company.
You got that right.
But the miserable state of its
finances when I went to prison
can only be laid
at your feet, Martin.
You made it vulnerable to a predator
like Ross McKay in the first place.
Now, get out of my sight
before I say or do
something I'll be sorry for!
I said get out, now!
Piece of advice, Preston.
Don't be mislead by your title.
I'm senior V.P.
and controller now,
and a member of
the Board of Directors.
And I suggest you keep
a lid on your opinions,
and if possible, on your temper.
Martin, we need to talk.
Ross, there you are.
I've been trying to touch base
with you since Monday morning.
The advertising copy
for Drums on the Amazon,
I'm sorry, Ross, but
it's tacky and exploitive.
Totally counter to the image
we should be projecting.
I've called you, sent memos.
I'm sorry, Preston.
Your messages must have
fallen between the cracks.
I promise you, though,
that you and I are gonna
spend some serious time together
before the weekend.
I almost forgot,
a royalty check
for J.B. Fletcher.
The Corpse Danced at Midnight.
I understand you're
going to be contacting her.
I'm going to try.
I'm not at all
certain she'll see me.
Nonsense, Preston.
I'm sure your years in prison
did nothing to diminish
your legendary charm.
(SIGHING)
(JESSICA LAUGHING)
You know, Mrs. J.B. Fletcher,
you could be a very
disruptive influence in my life.
Well, only my students call
me Mrs. Fletcher, Mr. Giles.
Oh, and Mr. Giles
is that stuffed shirt
in the three-piece suit
I left back in New York.
Good afternoon, Mrs.
Fletcher. Good afternoon.
Caught your interview
on the morning show.
Your new book sounds terrific.
Well, thank you.
Believe me, Mr. Phelps,
it's a lot easier to write
a book than to promote it.
Jessica?
Preston?
Hello, Jess. Forgive me
for surprising you like this.
Surprising me?
I'm in shock.
I thought you
were... Still in prison?
Look, Jess, I'm terribly sorry.
I should have called you.
Here, perhaps if we sat down.
Oh, thank you. No, no,
no, I'll be all right, really...
I just need a moment.
Of course.
The truth is I was
afraid that if I called you,
you'd refuse to see me.
And I wanted to very much
to see you again, face to face.
Well, I... I'm not so
sure that's a good idea.
Yes, well that seems more
apparent by the second.
I'm sorry. Forgive
me for intruding.
Preston.
Maybe it would be
best if we... If we did talk.
One of my regrets,
Jess, one of my many,
is that you didn't come
into my life sooner.
I was so full of anger.
A good deal of it directed
toward me, I'm sure.
For uncovering my
guilt? I suppose so, at first.
Could I have escaped
punishment if you hadn't been there?
Perhaps from the law.
But not from here.
The monstrousness
of what I did...
The awful knowledge that
in my anger, and then in fear,
I took the lives of two people,
it hasn't left my
thoughts for a moment.
It never will.
Preston, why did you
come looking for me?
What is it you want?
I'd almost forgotten that
refreshing directness of yours.
I was going to ask you to
leave your current publisher
and come back to Sutton Place.
Oh, I see.
I'm on parole thanks to a
man named Ross McKay.
I know who he is.
No, he's not one of my
favorite people, either.
But he was my
ticket out of prison.
I'd have dealt with the
devil to get out of that place.
Come to think
of it, maybe I did.
Preston, earlier you said that
you were going to ask me to
leave my current publisher?
I was.
And on the way here,
I changed my mind.
Ross and his wife Linette
are having a small dinner party
at his townhouse
tomorrow evening.
I was supposed
to lure you there,
ply you with flattery
and promises,
at which point Ross
would produce a check.
Sounds very
cold-blooded, doesn't it?
Very.
Funny.
I tried to convince myself
I could make a difference.
That I could revive
whatever remained
of the publishing
company's reputation.
It's become clear I
was deluding myself.
What probably best
characterizes Ross
is his choice of
V.P. controller.
The same man I caught
embezzling six and a half years ago.
Which reminds me.
Here's a royalty check.
The Corpse Danced at Midnight.
Oh. Thank you.
Anyway, Jess, I've decided to
bid the job and Ross goodbye.
What can I say, Jess,
except thank you.
Will you be all right?
Either I'll find a job
with someone else or...
There are a lot of books I
never got around to reading
in the prison library.
I wish you the best.
If there is something
that I can do...
No, no, please. Thanks, anyway.
This is all moving just too fast
for a widow woman from Maine.
(DOOR OPENING)
(GROANING)
ROSS: Okay,
I'd be lying if I said I
wasn't disappointed.
But I've been there before.
PRESTON: Ross, you don't...
Believe me, with the kind
of deals we're offering...
Ross.
They're all gonna come
around. Including J.B. Fletcher.
No, she won't. Anyway,
that's not why I'm here.
I'm quitting, Ross,
effectively immediately.
Don't be a fool.
I appreciate the
opportunity, I really do.
But it's clear I
don't belong here.
You figured that
out in what, 10 days?
You're crazy, pal,
you know that?
Or have you forgotten that your
parole happens to be conditional
on your continued employment?
I'll take my chances.
You don't think I
meant what I said
about turning this place
around. That's it, isn't it?
I'm sure you believe it, Ross.
Man, I must be losing my touch.
(SIGHING)
Look, Preston,
maybe you're right.
Maybe I was the fool to
think I could ever match
the standards you
set for this company.
I guess I was hoping
that having you around,
maybe some of your style
would, you know, rub off on me.
All right.
Do me a favor, though,
will you? Just give it a month.
Ross, I don't...
Excuse me.
Mr. McKay, your meeting.
Tell them to wait.
Yes, sir.
One month.
Oh, Dorothy, you better
make that two hours
for Mr. Giles and
myself on Friday.
By then, we'll have
everything aired out,
and if you still want
to leave, you leave.
Deal?
Deal. Wonderful.
By the way, how's that
presentation coming along?
Need it for the new investors.
It still needs, oh,
five, six hours work.
I'll have it for you
tomorrow afternoon.
No good.
The meeting's been moved up.
I'm going to need it
first thing in the morning.
Listen, I hate to ask, but...
Not much on my social calendar
these days. I'll work on it tonight.
Preston, you're a prince.
I'll make it up to
you, I promise.
Mr. Giles, Mrs.
Fletcher just called.
She'd like to speak to
you as soon as possible.
(EXCLAIMS) Jess?
Preston, you really
didn't have to come over.
I only called you to
have you stop payment
on that royalty check.
Are you sure you're all right?
Oh, yes. Except for a
few minor bruises, I'm fine.
I feel responsible for this.
I should have seen
you to your door.
Well, I doubt that would
have made much difference.
Well, have you
notified the police?
Oh, yes. They just left. I
couldn't help them very much.
I didn't get a look
at the man's face.
And all he took
was your handbag?
Yes. It had some
cash, credit cards,
the check that you gave me.
Now, he'd opened the
drawer where I kept my jewelry.
I must have interrupted
him, because he never took it.
Well, I'll tell accounting
to issue you a fresh check.
Thank you. They can send
it on to me in Cabot Cove.
Or I could deliver it at
breakfast tomorrow, if you wish.
Preston, I think it's best
if... If we didn't do that.
As you wish.
Look, I told you about
it this morning, Millie.
I know that, Kendall, but
I was just hoping that...
Well, you know, that maybe
you'd changed your mind.
It's been such a long time since
we've been to opera together,
and I made dinner
reservations at Gasparis.
Don't you understand?
I'm up to my eyeballs.
I've been up to my
eyeballs for weeks.
I just thought that...
That's your trouble, my
darling, you don't think.
Kendall, now, I'm
getting a little tired
of being nothing more than
your personal piggy bank.
Now, we have a marriage,
and I'm not going to let that be
destroyed by anything or anyone.
Now don't push me.
Sorry. I guess I'm
just a little tired.
Of course you are.
Don't work too late.
Kendall, what the
hell is this all about?
Hello, Linette.
Millie.
I suppose that you're
going to be working late, too.
What did she want?
My body.
She was plying me with opera
tickets and my favorite pasta.
I told her she'd
have to wait in line.
Really? Well, she's
welcome to it right now.
Linette, for God's sake, I'm
only kidding. What's the problem?
This. What do you mean you can't
hold the Denver group any longer?
You knew very well how much
time Ross was going to need.
And besides, whose
deal is it, anyway?
Who do you think has
been holding this together?
My God, you're sexy
when you're angry.
MARTIN: I heard about Mrs.
Fletcher's brush with that mugger.
She's lucky she
wasn't seriously hurt.
Yes, she was.
These people seem to have less
and less regard for their victims.
But then, we're living
in such violent times.
I'm rather busy
just now, Martin.
Oh, no problem.
I was about to call
it a night myself.
I wanted you to
know we'll be cutting a
fresh check for Mrs.
Fletcher in the morning.
It'll be mailed to Cabot
Cove, per your instructions.
Good night, Mr. Bergman.
Good night, Miss Winslow.
Here are those letters, Mr. Giles. Will
you be needing me for anything else?
Only this presentation, Gloria.
Would you mind running off 15 copies?
Of course not.
(GLORIA SCREAMING)
Gloria?
No! No! Stay away from me!
(SCREAMING)
Jessica, I swear I did
not kill Martin Bergman.
I want to believe you, Preston.
I know, I know. You'd be a
fool to simply take my word.
But can you give me any reason
why I should? I mean, anything?
A detail that you might have overlooked,
something that you might have been doing,
someone you might have seen, anything, to
put you in your office when he was stabbed?
No, nothing. I've gone
over it a hundred times.
Preston, you told me something
that doesn't make sense.
You said that Martin Bergman
embezzled funds in your company
and yet you never
pressed charges.
My lawyers and accountants
told me I'd never make it stick.
His swindle was so
byzantine, it would have
taken a team of
auditors years to unravel.
Besides, he threatened
me with blackmail.
Oh, he didn't have
anything, nothing concrete.
He said he checked up on my past
and found a lot of unanswered questions.
Well, you know all about that.
Anyway, it was a Mexican standoff.
I had him, all right, but I didn't
want him digging into my past,
so I simply fired him
and got on with business.
But according to the newspapers,
you threatened to kill him at a cocktail
party in front of witnesses, Preston.
In a fit of temper, yes.
Jessica, the man stole
nearly three million dollars.
I'd built the company
from scratch.
We were profitable,
highly respected.
But then suddenly we found
ourselves in deep financial trouble.
And a short time later,
two men were dead.
Including a blackmailing
private detective.
Finish the thought.
If I could kill two men for interfering
with my life, why not a third?
Oh, please. Don't
try to read my mind.
At this point, it
just isn't possible.
Look, Jess, it was good of you to come
down here. But even if you believe me,
I realize this is
not your problem.
What do you
mean, how's it goin'?
It's goin' lousy,
that's how it's goin'.
And I got this lady writer runnin'
around, makin' a royal pain out of herself.
Later.
Excuse me, Sergeant. I
just wanted to thank you
for arranging for me to see
Mr. Giles. It was very kind of you.
Come here. Close the door.
Sit down.
Bless you.
Thanks.
So, what'd he tell you?
Well, actually, it was
a private conversation.
What are you, his priest? His lawyer? You
got no confidential privilege here, lady.
Very well. As soon as you
serve me with a subpoena,
I'll be happy to answer
any questions that I can.
But in the meantime...
According to your statement, you had lunch
with Giles yesterday from 12:45 to 2:15.
I don't suppose you want
to tell me about that, either?
No, I don't.
Well, if there's nothing
else, Sergeant, I'll...
I'll let you know when
we get that subpoena.
Excuse me, Sergeant. Is this
a picture of the murder victim?
Yeah, that's him. What is it?
Well, that bandage
on his right hand...
Guess he cut himself. Why?
Sergeant, this may
be coincidental,
but I was mugged yesterday
afternoon in my hotel room.
I didn't see the man's
face, but I scratched
his right hand in
the struggle, and...
Ten-to-one he's the
guy you scratched, right?
Mrs. Fletcher, are you by
any chance having to deal with
62 unsolved homicides
since January 1?
Well, of course not.
I am.
And I am not about to welcome
any of your amateurish interference
for which, if I may say so, you're
already legendary around this department.
Well, I had no intention
of interfering, Sergeant.
It simply crossed
my mind that...
Okay, okay.
What do you figure a 52-year-old
controller for a major publishing company
is doin' moonlighting
as a mugger?
Well, I haven't got the faintest idea,
except that Mr. Bergman supposedly issued
a royalty check to me,
and it was in my handbag.
Incidentally, that was the
only item that was stolen.
Supposedly? What, you
don't know if it was in your bag?
I mean that I don't know that it was a
check. I never looked in the envelope.
You're sayin' you think Bergman
gave Giles the wrong envelope,
and he wants it back for some
reason, so he mugs you for it.
Oh, I really don't know
what I'm thinking, Sergeant.
Mrs. Fletcher, you're talkin'
major understatement here.
Besides which, why
wouldn't he just ask you for it?
Well, perhaps he didn't
want me to see the contents.
Oh, man. You know what I think?
I think you've been plunked in
front of your typewriter for too long
crankin' out those
books of yours.
I mean, none of this has any
connection whatsoever to the murder
for which your pal Preston Giles
had both opportunity and motive,
and we got witnesses who will
testify Giles threatened to kill Bergman.
Sergeant, that was
seven years ago.
Wrong, Mrs. Fletcher.
Yesterday afternoon.
His secretary's gonna
testify she saw him
come within an inch
of assaulting the victim.
Oh.
Guess he didn't tell you that, huh?
But then, hey, what can you expect?
The guy should have never
been let out on the street again.
And wouldn't have, if it weren't for
a lot of big bucks and political clout.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I
got 62 other cases that need solving.
(SLOCUM SNEEZING)
Call me Ross, Mrs. Fletcher.
I can't tell you how delighted
I am you were able to come.
I hope this means you've
also changed your mind
about returning to
Sutton Place Publishing.
Well, I'm giving it
some thought, Ross.
Jessica Fletcher. I'm
Millie Bingham Stafford.
Oh.
I was thrilled when Ross
told me you'd be here.
Your books are
positively delicious.
Oh, what a lovely
thing to say. Thank you.
Millie's husband is my
wife's slave-driving boss.
MILLIE: A
dyed-in-the-wool workaholic.
Last night, I went to dinner
alone at some chicken emporium,
and then went off
to the opera alone
while my husband played Monopoly
on the Hong Kong stock market.
Or so he claims.
When he and Linette
have their heads together,
it's hard to tell
what they're up to.
Isn't that right, Ross?
Now, Millie, you
and I are both too
attractive to worry
about something like that.
Besides, Kendall would rather
make a buck than a pass any day.
Ah, speaking of
our missing spouses.
(LINETTE LAUGHING)
Jessica Fletcher, this is Linette, my
wife and favorite investment banker.
Not necessarily in that order.
JESSICA: How nice to
meet you, Mrs. McKay.
Thank you.
Excuse me, Mrs. Fletcher.
(INAUDIBLE)
Jessica, there you are.
I'm just taking in
your marvelous view.
You know, that is the way
Manhattan should be enjoyed.
So may I assume you've
decided to accept our offer?
Well, your terms are
certainly very generous, Ross.
But my attorneys would never forgive
me if I didn't discuss it with them first.
Of course.
I hope you'll
understand if I ask you
not to talk about any of
this for the next day or two.
A very difficult assignment, Jessica.
Yes, of course. You have my word.
You know, in a way, I feel as
though I were responsible for all this,
this sorry business
at the office.
Maybe if I hadn't worked so
hard to get Preston paroled,
poor Martin
would still be alive.
Tell me, Ross, when you hired
Mr. Bergman to come into your company,
were you aware of the problems that
he and Preston had had in the past?
Certainly. But Martin Bergman
was a superb administrator.
He was the right man for
the job, as Preston was for his.
Come on, now, Jessica, isn't
conflict what motivates your stories?
The engine that
drives your character?
Oh, yes, it is.
Well, it's no different in business.
Only, we call it competition.
Keeping the energy high, and
keeping the creative juices bubbling.
Unfortunately, in this case, the
pot seems to have boiled over.
Yes, perhaps.
Are you saying
Giles didn't do it?
I'm not sure. I have
a feeling, an instinct.
Maybe there's more to it.
Jessica, if you'll permit me,
given his present
situation, Preston is apt
to say anything to get
himself off the hook.
Yes, maybe you're right.
The man has already been
convicted of two murders.
Look, I know how painful
this must be for you,
and how badly you'd like
it to have a happy ending.
I just hope for your sake that
you're not deluding yourself.
ROSS: The man has already
been convicted of two murders.
SLOCUM: But then,
hey, what can you expect?
The guy should have never been let
out on the street again in the first place.
ROSS: Look, I know how
painful this must be for you.
I just hope for your sake that
you're not deluding yourself.
I hoped I was wrong.
I'm sorry, Jess.
I truly am.
Another time, a different place,
we might have had something.
PRESTON: The
subject was blackmail...
Driver, take me to police
headquarters, Manhattan South. Hurry.
Oh, bless you.
Right. I guess you
got my message.
No. No, no, I didn't.
Well, then what are you... Strike
that, I don't want to know. Here you go.
Your purse turned up in a trashcan
a couple of blocks from your hotel.
Oh, really?
Now if you'll just sign this, I can get
home to warm beer and cold pizza.
Everything's still there except for that
check and your cash and credit cards,
which proves the
perp was after money.
No. No, I'm not sure of that.
(PHONE RINGING)
Slocum.
Yeah.
Yeah.
I hate that.
What is it, Sergeant?
Coincidence. Coroner
says there were
scratches on Bergman's
hand from human fingernails.
Which doesn't mean
he was your mugger,
and it doesn't matter
anyway, since I got my killer.
Except that, damn it, I'm
a Virgo. I hate loose ends.
Especially ones, you know,
that just complicate your life
without havin' anything
to do with anything.
I'm sorry, I'm
not following you.
Burglary. At the murder
victim's apartment.
Twenty minutes ago, duty
cop takes a delicatessen break,
some junkie busts in and trashes
the place. I mean, go figure.
Oh, yes. Now
that is very curious.
Anyway, Sergeant, the reason
I'm here is because of that envelope.
Mrs. Fletcher, don't start.
Suppose Mr. Bergman inadvertently
gave me the wrong envelope?
Mrs. Fletcher, we've
been over this...
An envelope which
contained valuable material
he had to retrieve
anonymously and surreptitiously.
Yeah, like what?
Well, something he was
using to blackmail someone.
Blackmail? Give me a break.
Yeah, but that would explain why
Mr. Bergman was desperate
enough to come to my hotel...
Ma'am, just sign this so
we can get out of here, okay?
You must admit, it seems awfully
tidy that Ross McKay would happen to
arrange a parole for Preston Giles so
that Preston could come to work for him...
Mrs. Fletcher.
And Mr. McKay also happens
to employ Martin Bergman,
whom he knows Preston happened
to have fired for embezzlement,
and threatened six
and a half years ago.
And in less than a week, when
Preston and Martin and the secretary
happened to be alone in the office,
someone murders Mr. Bergman?
Not someone. Preston Giles.
Or someone who wanted
to kill Martin Bergman
and make it look
as if Preston did it.
Someone who was being
blackmailed by Mr. Bergman.
(SNEEZES)
Now you're tellin'
me it was all a...
Oh, Sergeant, perhaps you
really should see a doctor.
You seem to have
some sort of allergy.
Yeah. And I just
figured out what it is.
I'm allergic to you.
Tell me, Sergeant, do you
think it would be possible for us
to obtain a search
warrant at this time of night?
Search warrant? What in hell you
thinkin' about now, Mrs. Fletcher?
Evidence of blackmail, Sergeant.
That's it. Good night.
Oh, but I haven't finished yet.
Have a nice trip back
to Maine, Mrs. Fletcher.
No. Not until you consider
one more possibility.
Okay, one.
Now, suppose that when our
blackmail victim murdered Mr. Bergman,
he was unable to find whatever it was
that Bergman was blackmailing him with.
So a little while later, he
burglarized Mr. Bergman's apartment,
hoping to find it still there.
I can't believe I let
you talk me into this.
I mean, we don't even
know what we're lookin' for.
(CLATTERING)
Jess, I can't tell you
how wonderful this feels.
Thank you for believing
me when no one else would.
Well, you may not be in
the clear just yet, Preston.
Oh?
There's something that doesn't
feel right about Ross' story.
I mean, he denies killing
Bergman, of course,
but he also denies
having been blackmailed.
And he claims that he discovered
that Mr. Bergman was embezzling.
I can't say that surprises me.
May I drop you at your hotel?
Thank you. Yes.
East 49th Street, driver.
So, why the skepticism, Jess?
I mean, embezzlement would
certainly give Ross a believable motive.
I know. And the
police seem to agree.
Ross insists that he was
simply searching the office
for a clue to where Bergman
had hidden the money.
But I just can't shake off the
feeling that something is missing.
Driver, please take
me to Wall Street.
Aw, lady, make up your mind, will
ya? That's clear back the other way.
Driver, the lady said Wall
Street, she means Wall Street.
And I want him out on bail
by 4:00, do you understand?
No, no, you listen to me. Every minute
that Ross remains under this cloud
threatens the survival of
Sutton Place Publishing,
not to mention the deal
that I am putting together.
Excuse me, Mrs. McKay, but
there's a Mrs. Fletcher here to see you.
I told her you were
busy, but she...
Tell her again.
Oh, Mrs. McKay,
thank you for seeing me.
I hate to barge in like this,
but it's terribly important.
Just do it, Arthur.
Call me back.
You have exactly one
minute, Mrs. Fletcher.
And I hope this isn't about getting
your jailbird friend Preston Giles
exonerated at my
husband's expense.
It's about getting them both
exonerated, Mrs. McKay,
at the expense of
the real murderer.
I'm curious about your
husband's relationship
with your employer Kendall Stafford
and also with the late Martin Bergman.
I don't know what you're...
Talking about? I'm
talking about blackmail.
What exactly did Mr. Bergman
have on your husband?
Goodbye, Mrs. Fletcher.
Mrs. McKay, your husband
could go to prison for many years
for a murder he may
not have committed.
Now, maybe you
don't care about that,
but I do know that you'd be very
unhappy about the financial repercussions.
So it was blackmail.
That's right. A couple of years
ago, Linette's husband Ross
and Kendall Stafford were
involved in some sort of a bond fraud.
Now, Martin Bergman found out about
it and made Photostats of documents
that could have put them
both behind bars for years.
Then that's it.
Ross killed Martin to silence him,
and arranged it so I'd take the blame.
That must be why he got me
out of prison, to be the scapegoat.
That makes sense. Except
for one thing, Preston.
Linette swore to me that Ross was at
home with her when Mr. Bergman was killed.
Well, she's lying,
Jess. She must be.
I'm not so sure.
There was something in the way
that she told me that I believed her.
Well, if it wasn't Ross... Well,
last night at the party,
Millie Stafford told
me that she'd had to
attend the opera alone
because her husband was
working late at the office with Linette.
But if Linette is
telling the truth...
Then Kendall
Stafford has no alibi.
But how do you prove it?
I don't know.
I mean, there was no evidence at
the scene to tie him in. No witnesses.
Well, I better tell this
to Sergeant Slocum.
Maybe he'll make
some sense out of it.
Why don't you hold
off on that, Jess, just
for tonight, and give
it some more thought?
Why?
Well, uh, it's just an idea.
I don't want to talk about it
until I've thought this through.
Preston?
Please, Jess. Just do
as I ask. I'll call you later.
And again, on the bottom of page 234,
it feels as if you're rushing the scene.
Let it run its course.
That's about it, Mr. Nolan.
(PHONE RINGING)
I don't know what's going to be
happening here at Sutton Place Publishing,
but my advice is to
find another publisher.
You're too good and so
is your book to let it die.
I hope these notes
will be useful to you.
Look, Mrs. Fletcher, just 'cause
Giles doesn't answer the phone
doesn't mean there's trouble.
For all we know, he isn't even there.
The hotel doorman said
that he went to the office.
Now, there's something
wrong, I know it.
He had that look
on his face earlier.
Good evening, Mr. Giles.
Mrs. Stafford.
You sent my husband a note requesting
a breakfast meeting tomorrow morning.
I had the good
sense to intercept it.
I have some business
to discuss with him.
Yes, the note said it involved some
papers once owned by Martin Bergman
implicating my husband
in a financial swindle.
I want those papers, Mr. Giles.
I don't have them.
Not here with me.
Yes, that's what
Martin tried to tell me.
Can you believe it?
They were in his pocket.
I see. So you took them out of
his pocket after you killed him.
Well, he didn't leave
me much choice.
He'd been bleeding me dry.
After all, it was my
money that Kendall had
been paying Martin
the past couple of years
and I finally got
a little sick of it.
My big mistake was believing Martin
when he said there was only one copy.
The papers, Mr. Giles.
They're in a safe place, where
no one will ever find them.
Except me, of course.
No one, Mr. Giles?
Interesting.
You know, I'm going
to risk believing you.
(TIRES SQUEALING)
It's Mrs. Stafford.
Mrs. Stafford, hold it!
All right, put your
hands on the car, lady.
Lift up.
Let's go, lady.
Preston!
Oh!
Oh, Preston. Oh...
Please. A man has
been shot in the Sutton
Place Publishing tower
suite. Hurry, please.
Preston?
Preston. Preston.
We got her, Jess.
The tape... The tape...
(SIRENS WAILING)
MILLIE ON TAPE: He was bleeding
me dry. After all, it was my money
that Kendall had been paying
Martin the past couple of years...
who started the company.
Preston Giles? He's
in jail for murder.
FEMALE NARRATOR:
Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.
Start with J.B. Fletcher.
She's the one who
put me behind bars.
Preston?
Forgive me for
surprising you like this.
Oh no, get away from me!
You seem to have
some sort of allergy.
I'm allergic to you.
Breakfast tomorrow, if you wish.
I think it's best
if... If we didn't.
Apparently, crime does pay.
Get out of my sight!
ROSS: Al, you're killin' me.
Look, all we're talkin'
is another 5,000 copies.
End of the month,
you have my word.
Al? Al? Al, why don't you let me
worry about the paper suppliers,
and you stick to the printing
and the binding, okay?
Okay, thanks, buddy.
Yeah, you're a prince.
Bastard.
You were supposed to
come home two days ago.
Yeah, well, if you'd
return my calls,
you'd know why I didn't.
I had my hands full, remember?
And?
Kendall's nervous.
I don't blame him.
If I were refinancing you and
that broken-down operation
to the tune of $20 million,
I'd want some assurances that
it wasn't going into Chapter 11
before the ink dried.
I told you... Spare me, Ross.
It's all smoke.
The blockbuster titles, the
name writers coming back...
Linette...
Please. You know, I should
have gone with my instincts
and not mixed
business with family.
No, instead I had to
put my job on the line...
Linette! To keep you from
sinking into the East River.
Damn it, Ross, there is more to
taking over a company than just...
Save the sermon,
will you, Linette?
Look, your boss and I
go back a few semesters.
He never would've touched this deal
if he thought it might embarrass him
or the bank or his
neurotic little wife.
Now, trust me.
Sutton Place Publishing
is about to regain its image
as the A-one class act
in the bestseller business.
How? With mirrors?
You might say that, yeah.
A mirror to the past.
I'm bringing back the man
who started the company.
Preston Giles? He's
in jail for murder.
Not for long.
I spent the better part of a month
pulling strings and calling in markers.
He gets out on parole Tuesday.
I understand. No,
believe me, I understand.
(GATE CLATTERING)
He's coming out. I have to go.
Hey, trust me, this
is going to work.
A couple of weeks from now,
you and I are gonna have
a big monkey off our back
thanks to Mr. Preston Giles.
Yeah. Call you later.
Mr. Giles.
Ross McKay.
I have been looking
forward to this moment, sir.
Mr. McKay.
What do you say we begin
by dropping the "misters"?
Welcome aboard, Preston.
Well, thank you, Ross.
Look, I understand.
You were totally up front
with me in your letters.
All I ask is that you
keep an open mind,
because I'm going to prove
that you're wrong about me.
And what the hell,
worst case scenario,
it's got to be better than
another eight or ten years in there.
Right?
Forgive me.
I guess this is going to
take some getting used to.
Mmm, okay. So you
don't like my style.
And maybe Sutton Place
Publishing isn't what it used to be.
Nobody's perfect.
On the other hand, I
wasn't jailed for murder.
I'm sorry, that
was uncalled for.
Listen, if I hadn't
pulled off my takeover,
then some fifth-rate
greenmail operator
who never read a book
in his life would have.
Sutton Place Publishing
would be history by now
and you'd still be inside.
So, are we still on?
Yes, we're on.
End of discussion.
You know, Preston,
whether you believe me or not,
I am deadly serious about this,
about returning
Sutton Place Publishing
to the kind of
class act you ran.
Something you can be proud of.
And I'm convinced that
together, we can pull it off.
Okay.
So, as we discussed,
we need to get some
quality product in the pipeline.
Which means that we
have to restore our list
of first-class writers.
Start with J.B. Fletcher.
Jessica?
She's the lynchpin.
Look, during your watch,
Sutton Place Publishing
was known for its
quality mysteries.
You nail her,
I know of a dozen top writers
that'll come flocking back.
Well, I don't know, Ross.
What's to know?
Well, she's the one
who put me behind bars.
So what?
You launched the woman's
career. She's your discovery.
She owes you and she knows it.
LINETTE: Ross,
about this weekend.
I'm gonna to have to
go out to Long Island.
I've got to meet with some
investors from California.
Wonderful.
Be sure and give Kendall
my regards, won't you?
Mr. McKay, I'm sorry,
one of our paper
suppliers is on line four.
They're refusing delivery
unless they get a check.
Tell them to hold.
Linette, I am getting a
little tired of your excuses...
Ross, it's business. Stop
behaving like a jealous schoolboy.
(KNOCK ON DOOR)
Linette, I need to talk to
you about the Felson merger.
Of course, Mr. Stafford.
Darling, I've got a
meeting in five minutes.
Besides, we have the whole
weekend to look forward to.
Oh, that's off, I'm afraid, Lin.
Millie volunteered my services as
toastmaster for the Hunt Club Ball,
and forgot to tell me
about it until this morning.
Oh.
Well, that's
probably just as well.
My husband needs my help
preparing for next week's audit.
I hope that's all the
help you're giving him.
I'm sure it's no more than
you're giving your wife.
Mr. Giles.
Mr. Whitcomb just called.
He said he's running late.
Oh? I thought I asked you to
move that meeting back to 4:00
and shift Carruthers to Monday.
Oh, dear, yes, yes, you did,
and I did write it down somewhere.
Gloria, you're having
a problem, aren't you,
working with me?
Problem? I...
No, no, Mr. Giles.
I know it's silly of
me, but... Forgive me.
I should have been more
sensitive of the situation.
Look, if you'd prefer to
leave, I'd certainly understand.
Oh, no, no, I'd
much rather stay.
But you have to
understand, Mr. Giles.
I know it's irrational,
but everything frightens me.
Crossing the street,
riding the subway.
That doesn't sound
irrational to me.
Oh.
I'm your basic frightened
person, but I'm working on it.
I read books on the
subject, I take classes,
I try and psych myself.
So, if you'll just
be patient with me.
MARTIN: Well.
I see that Ross has
chosen to ignore my advice.
Apparently, crime does pay.
It seems to have
paid for you, Martin.
You're as predictable
as ever, Preston.
May I remind you that your accusations
against me were never proven
because they were
totally without merit.
Believe me, Martin, if I
hadn't gotten myself in trouble,
I not only would
have proven them,
I'd have seen to it that you
were locked up as you deserve.
Now, what did you
want to see me about?
I suppose it's to be expected
that your years of incarceration
have nurtured your paranoia.
Believe it or not, I am not
the cause of all your problems.
I know that.
I have no one but
myself to blame
for the mess I made of
my life and this company.
You got that right.
But the miserable state of its
finances when I went to prison
can only be laid
at your feet, Martin.
You made it vulnerable to a predator
like Ross McKay in the first place.
Now, get out of my sight
before I say or do
something I'll be sorry for!
I said get out, now!
Piece of advice, Preston.
Don't be mislead by your title.
I'm senior V.P.
and controller now,
and a member of
the Board of Directors.
And I suggest you keep
a lid on your opinions,
and if possible, on your temper.
Martin, we need to talk.
Ross, there you are.
I've been trying to touch base
with you since Monday morning.
The advertising copy
for Drums on the Amazon,
I'm sorry, Ross, but
it's tacky and exploitive.
Totally counter to the image
we should be projecting.
I've called you, sent memos.
I'm sorry, Preston.
Your messages must have
fallen between the cracks.
I promise you, though,
that you and I are gonna
spend some serious time together
before the weekend.
I almost forgot,
a royalty check
for J.B. Fletcher.
The Corpse Danced at Midnight.
I understand you're
going to be contacting her.
I'm going to try.
I'm not at all
certain she'll see me.
Nonsense, Preston.
I'm sure your years in prison
did nothing to diminish
your legendary charm.
(SIGHING)
(JESSICA LAUGHING)
You know, Mrs. J.B. Fletcher,
you could be a very
disruptive influence in my life.
Well, only my students call
me Mrs. Fletcher, Mr. Giles.
Oh, and Mr. Giles
is that stuffed shirt
in the three-piece suit
I left back in New York.
Good afternoon, Mrs.
Fletcher. Good afternoon.
Caught your interview
on the morning show.
Your new book sounds terrific.
Well, thank you.
Believe me, Mr. Phelps,
it's a lot easier to write
a book than to promote it.
Jessica?
Preston?
Hello, Jess. Forgive me
for surprising you like this.
Surprising me?
I'm in shock.
I thought you
were... Still in prison?
Look, Jess, I'm terribly sorry.
I should have called you.
Here, perhaps if we sat down.
Oh, thank you. No, no,
no, I'll be all right, really...
I just need a moment.
Of course.
The truth is I was
afraid that if I called you,
you'd refuse to see me.
And I wanted to very much
to see you again, face to face.
Well, I... I'm not so
sure that's a good idea.
Yes, well that seems more
apparent by the second.
I'm sorry. Forgive
me for intruding.
Preston.
Maybe it would be
best if we... If we did talk.
One of my regrets,
Jess, one of my many,
is that you didn't come
into my life sooner.
I was so full of anger.
A good deal of it directed
toward me, I'm sure.
For uncovering my
guilt? I suppose so, at first.
Could I have escaped
punishment if you hadn't been there?
Perhaps from the law.
But not from here.
The monstrousness
of what I did...
The awful knowledge that
in my anger, and then in fear,
I took the lives of two people,
it hasn't left my
thoughts for a moment.
It never will.
Preston, why did you
come looking for me?
What is it you want?
I'd almost forgotten that
refreshing directness of yours.
I was going to ask you to
leave your current publisher
and come back to Sutton Place.
Oh, I see.
I'm on parole thanks to a
man named Ross McKay.
I know who he is.
No, he's not one of my
favorite people, either.
But he was my
ticket out of prison.
I'd have dealt with the
devil to get out of that place.
Come to think
of it, maybe I did.
Preston, earlier you said that
you were going to ask me to
leave my current publisher?
I was.
And on the way here,
I changed my mind.
Ross and his wife Linette
are having a small dinner party
at his townhouse
tomorrow evening.
I was supposed
to lure you there,
ply you with flattery
and promises,
at which point Ross
would produce a check.
Sounds very
cold-blooded, doesn't it?
Very.
Funny.
I tried to convince myself
I could make a difference.
That I could revive
whatever remained
of the publishing
company's reputation.
It's become clear I
was deluding myself.
What probably best
characterizes Ross
is his choice of
V.P. controller.
The same man I caught
embezzling six and a half years ago.
Which reminds me.
Here's a royalty check.
The Corpse Danced at Midnight.
Oh. Thank you.
Anyway, Jess, I've decided to
bid the job and Ross goodbye.
What can I say, Jess,
except thank you.
Will you be all right?
Either I'll find a job
with someone else or...
There are a lot of books I
never got around to reading
in the prison library.
I wish you the best.
If there is something
that I can do...
No, no, please. Thanks, anyway.
This is all moving just too fast
for a widow woman from Maine.
(DOOR OPENING)
(GROANING)
ROSS: Okay,
I'd be lying if I said I
wasn't disappointed.
But I've been there before.
PRESTON: Ross, you don't...
Believe me, with the kind
of deals we're offering...
Ross.
They're all gonna come
around. Including J.B. Fletcher.
No, she won't. Anyway,
that's not why I'm here.
I'm quitting, Ross,
effectively immediately.
Don't be a fool.
I appreciate the
opportunity, I really do.
But it's clear I
don't belong here.
You figured that
out in what, 10 days?
You're crazy, pal,
you know that?
Or have you forgotten that your
parole happens to be conditional
on your continued employment?
I'll take my chances.
You don't think I
meant what I said
about turning this place
around. That's it, isn't it?
I'm sure you believe it, Ross.
Man, I must be losing my touch.
(SIGHING)
Look, Preston,
maybe you're right.
Maybe I was the fool to
think I could ever match
the standards you
set for this company.
I guess I was hoping
that having you around,
maybe some of your style
would, you know, rub off on me.
All right.
Do me a favor, though,
will you? Just give it a month.
Ross, I don't...
Excuse me.
Mr. McKay, your meeting.
Tell them to wait.
Yes, sir.
One month.
Oh, Dorothy, you better
make that two hours
for Mr. Giles and
myself on Friday.
By then, we'll have
everything aired out,
and if you still want
to leave, you leave.
Deal?
Deal. Wonderful.
By the way, how's that
presentation coming along?
Need it for the new investors.
It still needs, oh,
five, six hours work.
I'll have it for you
tomorrow afternoon.
No good.
The meeting's been moved up.
I'm going to need it
first thing in the morning.
Listen, I hate to ask, but...
Not much on my social calendar
these days. I'll work on it tonight.
Preston, you're a prince.
I'll make it up to
you, I promise.
Mr. Giles, Mrs.
Fletcher just called.
She'd like to speak to
you as soon as possible.
(EXCLAIMS) Jess?
Preston, you really
didn't have to come over.
I only called you to
have you stop payment
on that royalty check.
Are you sure you're all right?
Oh, yes. Except for a
few minor bruises, I'm fine.
I feel responsible for this.
I should have seen
you to your door.
Well, I doubt that would
have made much difference.
Well, have you
notified the police?
Oh, yes. They just left. I
couldn't help them very much.
I didn't get a look
at the man's face.
And all he took
was your handbag?
Yes. It had some
cash, credit cards,
the check that you gave me.
Now, he'd opened the
drawer where I kept my jewelry.
I must have interrupted
him, because he never took it.
Well, I'll tell accounting
to issue you a fresh check.
Thank you. They can send
it on to me in Cabot Cove.
Or I could deliver it at
breakfast tomorrow, if you wish.
Preston, I think it's best
if... If we didn't do that.
As you wish.
Look, I told you about
it this morning, Millie.
I know that, Kendall, but
I was just hoping that...
Well, you know, that maybe
you'd changed your mind.
It's been such a long time since
we've been to opera together,
and I made dinner
reservations at Gasparis.
Don't you understand?
I'm up to my eyeballs.
I've been up to my
eyeballs for weeks.
I just thought that...
That's your trouble, my
darling, you don't think.
Kendall, now, I'm
getting a little tired
of being nothing more than
your personal piggy bank.
Now, we have a marriage,
and I'm not going to let that be
destroyed by anything or anyone.
Now don't push me.
Sorry. I guess I'm
just a little tired.
Of course you are.
Don't work too late.
Kendall, what the
hell is this all about?
Hello, Linette.
Millie.
I suppose that you're
going to be working late, too.
What did she want?
My body.
She was plying me with opera
tickets and my favorite pasta.
I told her she'd
have to wait in line.
Really? Well, she's
welcome to it right now.
Linette, for God's sake, I'm
only kidding. What's the problem?
This. What do you mean you can't
hold the Denver group any longer?
You knew very well how much
time Ross was going to need.
And besides, whose
deal is it, anyway?
Who do you think has
been holding this together?
My God, you're sexy
when you're angry.
MARTIN: I heard about Mrs.
Fletcher's brush with that mugger.
She's lucky she
wasn't seriously hurt.
Yes, she was.
These people seem to have less
and less regard for their victims.
But then, we're living
in such violent times.
I'm rather busy
just now, Martin.
Oh, no problem.
I was about to call
it a night myself.
I wanted you to
know we'll be cutting a
fresh check for Mrs.
Fletcher in the morning.
It'll be mailed to Cabot
Cove, per your instructions.
Good night, Mr. Bergman.
Good night, Miss Winslow.
Here are those letters, Mr. Giles. Will
you be needing me for anything else?
Only this presentation, Gloria.
Would you mind running off 15 copies?
Of course not.
(GLORIA SCREAMING)
Gloria?
No! No! Stay away from me!
(SCREAMING)
Jessica, I swear I did
not kill Martin Bergman.
I want to believe you, Preston.
I know, I know. You'd be a
fool to simply take my word.
But can you give me any reason
why I should? I mean, anything?
A detail that you might have overlooked,
something that you might have been doing,
someone you might have seen, anything, to
put you in your office when he was stabbed?
No, nothing. I've gone
over it a hundred times.
Preston, you told me something
that doesn't make sense.
You said that Martin Bergman
embezzled funds in your company
and yet you never
pressed charges.
My lawyers and accountants
told me I'd never make it stick.
His swindle was so
byzantine, it would have
taken a team of
auditors years to unravel.
Besides, he threatened
me with blackmail.
Oh, he didn't have
anything, nothing concrete.
He said he checked up on my past
and found a lot of unanswered questions.
Well, you know all about that.
Anyway, it was a Mexican standoff.
I had him, all right, but I didn't
want him digging into my past,
so I simply fired him
and got on with business.
But according to the newspapers,
you threatened to kill him at a cocktail
party in front of witnesses, Preston.
In a fit of temper, yes.
Jessica, the man stole
nearly three million dollars.
I'd built the company
from scratch.
We were profitable,
highly respected.
But then suddenly we found
ourselves in deep financial trouble.
And a short time later,
two men were dead.
Including a blackmailing
private detective.
Finish the thought.
If I could kill two men for interfering
with my life, why not a third?
Oh, please. Don't
try to read my mind.
At this point, it
just isn't possible.
Look, Jess, it was good of you to come
down here. But even if you believe me,
I realize this is
not your problem.
What do you
mean, how's it goin'?
It's goin' lousy,
that's how it's goin'.
And I got this lady writer runnin'
around, makin' a royal pain out of herself.
Later.
Excuse me, Sergeant. I
just wanted to thank you
for arranging for me to see
Mr. Giles. It was very kind of you.
Come here. Close the door.
Sit down.
Bless you.
Thanks.
So, what'd he tell you?
Well, actually, it was
a private conversation.
What are you, his priest? His lawyer? You
got no confidential privilege here, lady.
Very well. As soon as you
serve me with a subpoena,
I'll be happy to answer
any questions that I can.
But in the meantime...
According to your statement, you had lunch
with Giles yesterday from 12:45 to 2:15.
I don't suppose you want
to tell me about that, either?
No, I don't.
Well, if there's nothing
else, Sergeant, I'll...
I'll let you know when
we get that subpoena.
Excuse me, Sergeant. Is this
a picture of the murder victim?
Yeah, that's him. What is it?
Well, that bandage
on his right hand...
Guess he cut himself. Why?
Sergeant, this may
be coincidental,
but I was mugged yesterday
afternoon in my hotel room.
I didn't see the man's
face, but I scratched
his right hand in
the struggle, and...
Ten-to-one he's the
guy you scratched, right?
Mrs. Fletcher, are you by
any chance having to deal with
62 unsolved homicides
since January 1?
Well, of course not.
I am.
And I am not about to welcome
any of your amateurish interference
for which, if I may say so, you're
already legendary around this department.
Well, I had no intention
of interfering, Sergeant.
It simply crossed
my mind that...
Okay, okay.
What do you figure a 52-year-old
controller for a major publishing company
is doin' moonlighting
as a mugger?
Well, I haven't got the faintest idea,
except that Mr. Bergman supposedly issued
a royalty check to me,
and it was in my handbag.
Incidentally, that was the
only item that was stolen.
Supposedly? What, you
don't know if it was in your bag?
I mean that I don't know that it was a
check. I never looked in the envelope.
You're sayin' you think Bergman
gave Giles the wrong envelope,
and he wants it back for some
reason, so he mugs you for it.
Oh, I really don't know
what I'm thinking, Sergeant.
Mrs. Fletcher, you're talkin'
major understatement here.
Besides which, why
wouldn't he just ask you for it?
Well, perhaps he didn't
want me to see the contents.
Oh, man. You know what I think?
I think you've been plunked in
front of your typewriter for too long
crankin' out those
books of yours.
I mean, none of this has any
connection whatsoever to the murder
for which your pal Preston Giles
had both opportunity and motive,
and we got witnesses who will
testify Giles threatened to kill Bergman.
Sergeant, that was
seven years ago.
Wrong, Mrs. Fletcher.
Yesterday afternoon.
His secretary's gonna
testify she saw him
come within an inch
of assaulting the victim.
Oh.
Guess he didn't tell you that, huh?
But then, hey, what can you expect?
The guy should have never
been let out on the street again.
And wouldn't have, if it weren't for
a lot of big bucks and political clout.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I
got 62 other cases that need solving.
(SLOCUM SNEEZING)
Call me Ross, Mrs. Fletcher.
I can't tell you how delighted
I am you were able to come.
I hope this means you've
also changed your mind
about returning to
Sutton Place Publishing.
Well, I'm giving it
some thought, Ross.
Jessica Fletcher. I'm
Millie Bingham Stafford.
Oh.
I was thrilled when Ross
told me you'd be here.
Your books are
positively delicious.
Oh, what a lovely
thing to say. Thank you.
Millie's husband is my
wife's slave-driving boss.
MILLIE: A
dyed-in-the-wool workaholic.
Last night, I went to dinner
alone at some chicken emporium,
and then went off
to the opera alone
while my husband played Monopoly
on the Hong Kong stock market.
Or so he claims.
When he and Linette
have their heads together,
it's hard to tell
what they're up to.
Isn't that right, Ross?
Now, Millie, you
and I are both too
attractive to worry
about something like that.
Besides, Kendall would rather
make a buck than a pass any day.
Ah, speaking of
our missing spouses.
(LINETTE LAUGHING)
Jessica Fletcher, this is Linette, my
wife and favorite investment banker.
Not necessarily in that order.
JESSICA: How nice to
meet you, Mrs. McKay.
Thank you.
Excuse me, Mrs. Fletcher.
(INAUDIBLE)
Jessica, there you are.
I'm just taking in
your marvelous view.
You know, that is the way
Manhattan should be enjoyed.
So may I assume you've
decided to accept our offer?
Well, your terms are
certainly very generous, Ross.
But my attorneys would never forgive
me if I didn't discuss it with them first.
Of course.
I hope you'll
understand if I ask you
not to talk about any of
this for the next day or two.
A very difficult assignment, Jessica.
Yes, of course. You have my word.
You know, in a way, I feel as
though I were responsible for all this,
this sorry business
at the office.
Maybe if I hadn't worked so
hard to get Preston paroled,
poor Martin
would still be alive.
Tell me, Ross, when you hired
Mr. Bergman to come into your company,
were you aware of the problems that
he and Preston had had in the past?
Certainly. But Martin Bergman
was a superb administrator.
He was the right man for
the job, as Preston was for his.
Come on, now, Jessica, isn't
conflict what motivates your stories?
The engine that
drives your character?
Oh, yes, it is.
Well, it's no different in business.
Only, we call it competition.
Keeping the energy high, and
keeping the creative juices bubbling.
Unfortunately, in this case, the
pot seems to have boiled over.
Yes, perhaps.
Are you saying
Giles didn't do it?
I'm not sure. I have
a feeling, an instinct.
Maybe there's more to it.
Jessica, if you'll permit me,
given his present
situation, Preston is apt
to say anything to get
himself off the hook.
Yes, maybe you're right.
The man has already been
convicted of two murders.
Look, I know how painful
this must be for you,
and how badly you'd like
it to have a happy ending.
I just hope for your sake that
you're not deluding yourself.
ROSS: The man has already
been convicted of two murders.
SLOCUM: But then,
hey, what can you expect?
The guy should have never been let
out on the street again in the first place.
ROSS: Look, I know how
painful this must be for you.
I just hope for your sake that
you're not deluding yourself.
I hoped I was wrong.
I'm sorry, Jess.
I truly am.
Another time, a different place,
we might have had something.
PRESTON: The
subject was blackmail...
Driver, take me to police
headquarters, Manhattan South. Hurry.
Oh, bless you.
Right. I guess you
got my message.
No. No, no, I didn't.
Well, then what are you... Strike
that, I don't want to know. Here you go.
Your purse turned up in a trashcan
a couple of blocks from your hotel.
Oh, really?
Now if you'll just sign this, I can get
home to warm beer and cold pizza.
Everything's still there except for that
check and your cash and credit cards,
which proves the
perp was after money.
No. No, I'm not sure of that.
(PHONE RINGING)
Slocum.
Yeah.
Yeah.
I hate that.
What is it, Sergeant?
Coincidence. Coroner
says there were
scratches on Bergman's
hand from human fingernails.
Which doesn't mean
he was your mugger,
and it doesn't matter
anyway, since I got my killer.
Except that, damn it, I'm
a Virgo. I hate loose ends.
Especially ones, you know,
that just complicate your life
without havin' anything
to do with anything.
I'm sorry, I'm
not following you.
Burglary. At the murder
victim's apartment.
Twenty minutes ago, duty
cop takes a delicatessen break,
some junkie busts in and trashes
the place. I mean, go figure.
Oh, yes. Now
that is very curious.
Anyway, Sergeant, the reason
I'm here is because of that envelope.
Mrs. Fletcher, don't start.
Suppose Mr. Bergman inadvertently
gave me the wrong envelope?
Mrs. Fletcher, we've
been over this...
An envelope which
contained valuable material
he had to retrieve
anonymously and surreptitiously.
Yeah, like what?
Well, something he was
using to blackmail someone.
Blackmail? Give me a break.
Yeah, but that would explain why
Mr. Bergman was desperate
enough to come to my hotel...
Ma'am, just sign this so
we can get out of here, okay?
You must admit, it seems awfully
tidy that Ross McKay would happen to
arrange a parole for Preston Giles so
that Preston could come to work for him...
Mrs. Fletcher.
And Mr. McKay also happens
to employ Martin Bergman,
whom he knows Preston happened
to have fired for embezzlement,
and threatened six
and a half years ago.
And in less than a week, when
Preston and Martin and the secretary
happened to be alone in the office,
someone murders Mr. Bergman?
Not someone. Preston Giles.
Or someone who wanted
to kill Martin Bergman
and make it look
as if Preston did it.
Someone who was being
blackmailed by Mr. Bergman.
(SNEEZES)
Now you're tellin'
me it was all a...
Oh, Sergeant, perhaps you
really should see a doctor.
You seem to have
some sort of allergy.
Yeah. And I just
figured out what it is.
I'm allergic to you.
Tell me, Sergeant, do you
think it would be possible for us
to obtain a search
warrant at this time of night?
Search warrant? What in hell you
thinkin' about now, Mrs. Fletcher?
Evidence of blackmail, Sergeant.
That's it. Good night.
Oh, but I haven't finished yet.
Have a nice trip back
to Maine, Mrs. Fletcher.
No. Not until you consider
one more possibility.
Okay, one.
Now, suppose that when our
blackmail victim murdered Mr. Bergman,
he was unable to find whatever it was
that Bergman was blackmailing him with.
So a little while later, he
burglarized Mr. Bergman's apartment,
hoping to find it still there.
I can't believe I let
you talk me into this.
I mean, we don't even
know what we're lookin' for.
(CLATTERING)
Jess, I can't tell you
how wonderful this feels.
Thank you for believing
me when no one else would.
Well, you may not be in
the clear just yet, Preston.
Oh?
There's something that doesn't
feel right about Ross' story.
I mean, he denies killing
Bergman, of course,
but he also denies
having been blackmailed.
And he claims that he discovered
that Mr. Bergman was embezzling.
I can't say that surprises me.
May I drop you at your hotel?
Thank you. Yes.
East 49th Street, driver.
So, why the skepticism, Jess?
I mean, embezzlement would
certainly give Ross a believable motive.
I know. And the
police seem to agree.
Ross insists that he was
simply searching the office
for a clue to where Bergman
had hidden the money.
But I just can't shake off the
feeling that something is missing.
Driver, please take
me to Wall Street.
Aw, lady, make up your mind, will
ya? That's clear back the other way.
Driver, the lady said Wall
Street, she means Wall Street.
And I want him out on bail
by 4:00, do you understand?
No, no, you listen to me. Every minute
that Ross remains under this cloud
threatens the survival of
Sutton Place Publishing,
not to mention the deal
that I am putting together.
Excuse me, Mrs. McKay, but
there's a Mrs. Fletcher here to see you.
I told her you were
busy, but she...
Tell her again.
Oh, Mrs. McKay,
thank you for seeing me.
I hate to barge in like this,
but it's terribly important.
Just do it, Arthur.
Call me back.
You have exactly one
minute, Mrs. Fletcher.
And I hope this isn't about getting
your jailbird friend Preston Giles
exonerated at my
husband's expense.
It's about getting them both
exonerated, Mrs. McKay,
at the expense of
the real murderer.
I'm curious about your
husband's relationship
with your employer Kendall Stafford
and also with the late Martin Bergman.
I don't know what you're...
Talking about? I'm
talking about blackmail.
What exactly did Mr. Bergman
have on your husband?
Goodbye, Mrs. Fletcher.
Mrs. McKay, your husband
could go to prison for many years
for a murder he may
not have committed.
Now, maybe you
don't care about that,
but I do know that you'd be very
unhappy about the financial repercussions.
So it was blackmail.
That's right. A couple of years
ago, Linette's husband Ross
and Kendall Stafford were
involved in some sort of a bond fraud.
Now, Martin Bergman found out about
it and made Photostats of documents
that could have put them
both behind bars for years.
Then that's it.
Ross killed Martin to silence him,
and arranged it so I'd take the blame.
That must be why he got me
out of prison, to be the scapegoat.
That makes sense. Except
for one thing, Preston.
Linette swore to me that Ross was at
home with her when Mr. Bergman was killed.
Well, she's lying,
Jess. She must be.
I'm not so sure.
There was something in the way
that she told me that I believed her.
Well, if it wasn't Ross... Well,
last night at the party,
Millie Stafford told
me that she'd had to
attend the opera alone
because her husband was
working late at the office with Linette.
But if Linette is
telling the truth...
Then Kendall
Stafford has no alibi.
But how do you prove it?
I don't know.
I mean, there was no evidence at
the scene to tie him in. No witnesses.
Well, I better tell this
to Sergeant Slocum.
Maybe he'll make
some sense out of it.
Why don't you hold
off on that, Jess, just
for tonight, and give
it some more thought?
Why?
Well, uh, it's just an idea.
I don't want to talk about it
until I've thought this through.
Preston?
Please, Jess. Just do
as I ask. I'll call you later.
And again, on the bottom of page 234,
it feels as if you're rushing the scene.
Let it run its course.
That's about it, Mr. Nolan.
(PHONE RINGING)
I don't know what's going to be
happening here at Sutton Place Publishing,
but my advice is to
find another publisher.
You're too good and so
is your book to let it die.
I hope these notes
will be useful to you.
Look, Mrs. Fletcher, just 'cause
Giles doesn't answer the phone
doesn't mean there's trouble.
For all we know, he isn't even there.
The hotel doorman said
that he went to the office.
Now, there's something
wrong, I know it.
He had that look
on his face earlier.
Good evening, Mr. Giles.
Mrs. Stafford.
You sent my husband a note requesting
a breakfast meeting tomorrow morning.
I had the good
sense to intercept it.
I have some business
to discuss with him.
Yes, the note said it involved some
papers once owned by Martin Bergman
implicating my husband
in a financial swindle.
I want those papers, Mr. Giles.
I don't have them.
Not here with me.
Yes, that's what
Martin tried to tell me.
Can you believe it?
They were in his pocket.
I see. So you took them out of
his pocket after you killed him.
Well, he didn't leave
me much choice.
He'd been bleeding me dry.
After all, it was my
money that Kendall had
been paying Martin
the past couple of years
and I finally got
a little sick of it.
My big mistake was believing Martin
when he said there was only one copy.
The papers, Mr. Giles.
They're in a safe place, where
no one will ever find them.
Except me, of course.
No one, Mr. Giles?
Interesting.
You know, I'm going
to risk believing you.
(TIRES SQUEALING)
It's Mrs. Stafford.
Mrs. Stafford, hold it!
All right, put your
hands on the car, lady.
Lift up.
Let's go, lady.
Preston!
Oh!
Oh, Preston. Oh...
Please. A man has
been shot in the Sutton
Place Publishing tower
suite. Hurry, please.
Preston?
Preston. Preston.
We got her, Jess.
The tape... The tape...
(SIRENS WAILING)
MILLIE ON TAPE: He was bleeding
me dry. After all, it was my money
that Kendall had been paying
Martin the past couple of years...