Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 8, Episode 22 - Murder on Madison Avenue - full transcript

All right, partner,
drop it. Raise 'em high!

(HORN TOOTING)

FEMALE NARRATOR:
Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

A-ha!

He's a nut, but he's
a certified genius.

Why don't you offer her a
job, get her on your team?

Cut the baloney, Steloff.

Everybody knows you've taken
the contest into the bedroom.

Did you kill your wife?

If J.B. Fletcher has to ask that,
I'd better get myself a good lawyer.

Nobody's above suspicion
in a game of Murder Will Out!



What kind of a toy
would someone kill for?

(LAUGHING)

MEREDITH: This week
marks our 25th year, Liz.

So your Wall Street
angle should be about

Marathon's expanding
industry share over that period.

Miss Delaney.

There's talk you've thrown your
ad agency situation into review.

Right, Annie.

The end of the month, the
Marathon account will be repped

either by Steloff Associates
or Payton and Company.

And I have broken precedent
by asking the top execs

of these two competing firms
to be with us this morning.

Boris Steloff,

responsible for the Springfield
Athletics campaign last year,



and Miles Packard to his
right, of Payton Company,

with his two creative directors,
Brian Singer and Amanda North.

They developed the
Nuit D'Amore perfume ad

that hit so big during
the Olympics this year.

There's word around that you
people have a breakthrough line.

You know better than to ask me
about our development plans, Stromberg.

Well, this was over drinks with
your CEO, Edgar Greenstreet.

The old man talked
about a Project 2100.

Oh, please, don't hold me to
Mr. Greenstreet's after-hours comments.

Now, I think that about
covers everything.

(ALL CLAMORING)

Except to say that
we are in negotiations

with a top mystery novelist
for a new board game,

which will be entitled, appropriately
enough, "Murder Will Out!"

And that's all. Thank
you very much, everybody.

(INDISTINCT CHATTERING)

Mrs. Fletcher. Jessica
Fletcher. I should have known.

Should've known it would've
been you with that board game.

Good heavens, Brian.

Allow me to introduce you
to my boss, Miles Packard.

How do you do? Hello.

I broke into the business
as a media coordinator

on one of Mrs. Fletcher's books.

Miles, would this be an apt
time to wish each other luck?

Cut the baloney, Steloff.

Everybody knows you've taken
the contest into the bedroom.

Not that it'll get you
anywhere, so forget it.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Look, I've got a table
booked at Carter's at 12:30.

We've got a lot of
catching up to do.

Mrs. Fletcher, Boss Lady calls.

If that's an invitation
to lunch, you're on.

Mrs. Fletcher, it's good to
see you again. Thank you.

I'm Meredith Delaney.
This is my husband.

Otherwise known as Mr. Meredith
Delaney. How are you?

Oh, just fine,
thank you, Devery.

(INTERCOM BUZZING) My
husband will be your project supervisor.

Excuse me just a
moment. Mmm-hmm.

Officer Joseph?

Correct me if I'm wrong,

but do I not have that mealy-mouthed
little bastard from the Register,

Stromberg, on the list of people
who are not allowed in this building,

let alone my office?

I have to tell you, I think
your basics are sensational.

I've got the art
department doing sketches.

So soon? That's wonderful.

DEVERY: Mr. Greenstreet's taken
a special interest in this project.

He suggested character
figures for the playing pieces.

Really, Devery, you're
like a runaway horse.

Oh! Oh, that's quite
all right, Miss Delaney.

I mean, after all, if that is
what Mr. Greenstreet wants.

I mean, my gosh, he's a legend.

Every kid in America knows Billy
Bonkers and Bonkers' Skeleton.

And few people are aware that

the anatomically-correct
skeleton play-kit was my idea,

along with many
things at Marathon.

Mrs. Fletcher, to
be perfectly frank,

Mr. Greenstreet is an eccentric.

And I really run the
company for him.

(PIANO PLAYING)

JESSICA: I mean, I have heard advertising
described as a bare-knuckle business,

but after what I
saw this morning,

(CHUCKLES) I'm a believer.

Here's our dessert
tray. I'll be right back.

The Marathon account'll
bill 40 million next year.

As far as our competition goes,

it's not exactly a
level playing field,

but Amanda and I have a proposal

which stresses better creative
and media coordination.

It's really been tough.

Trying to create a proposal for
a line of toys we've never seen.

Oh, yes, rather like trying to
paint a landscape blindfolded.

It's Edgar Greenstreet.

He ratchets up our
creative juices that way.

Then, next month he
decides who gets the account.

Well, now I'm confused.

I mean, this morning,
Meredith Delaney told me

that Mr. Greenstreet wasn't
running the business anymore.

Don't believe everything
the Iron Butterfly tells you.

Old man Greenstreet's
the toy-maker.

He's a nut, but he's
a certified genius.

Small change of subject.

Brian, what did the client say
about our Urge storyboards?

Oh, Urge is a line of cosmetics
we're doing some TV spots for.

AMANDA: Brian...

I didn't give 'em
your copy, hon.

I'm afraid you missed the boat.

What do you mean,
missed the boat?

Well, who cares if a
spritzer fits into the handbag

or if the blush comes
in a dozen shades?

That's not the
selling point, honey.

Now, the blueberry
cheesecake here is fantastic.

Oh, no, thank you.

But I wonder if either
one of you know

if there's a room B100
in the Marathon Building?

Oh, sure.

Yeah, I've never seen it, but
everybody's heard about it.

It's a high-security section
on the basement floor.

Please excuse me, Mrs. Fletcher.

I just remembered I
have an appointment.

Amanda...

I'll be right back,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Amanda, what's the matter?

Incredibly enough,
you have no idea.

No, I don't.

Whatever the project is,

even if it's women's
cosmetics, for crying out loud,

your opinion always prevails.

I've figured out why. It's
because you're so pig-headed.

You want me to take a back seat?

I want equality
in the relationship.

And for starters, you can
stop calling me "honey."

(CLOCK CHIMING)

(WHIRRING)

All right, partner, drop it.

Come on, get 'em up!

Raise 'em high!

(GUNSHOTS)

(LAUGHING)

(HORN TOOTING)

(BLEEPING)

Do you want to play? Come along.

Follow me if you dare.

Okay, someone wants to play?

A-ha!

(BOTH LAUGHING)

Gotcha, Mrs. Fletcher.

Edgar Greenstreet.

I couldn't resist having
some fun with you.

(CHUCKLING) You
really had me going.

(BOTH LAUGHING)

Check the eyeball.
Is the green scarier?

Oh, no, the red.
Definitely the red.

An eyeball. Our first
serious collaboration.

Here. Here, let
me get you a chair.

Thank you.

There.

Oh, great.

Tell me.

Do you believe that toys and
games like yours, Mrs. Fletcher,

are the sublimation
of all the evil in us?

Well, I'm not certain I
know what you mean.

Well, with toys you can bomb
and strafe, win World War III and IV.

You can even commit murder and
go to bed with an easy conscience.

Which brings us to your game.

I've read your notes, and

I think you'll want
six players, not five.

I had in mind a grumpy
neighbor, call him Snipes.

Who snoops a lot, you know,
looks in windows, picks up clues...

Snipes the snoop.

We'll make them out of plastic.

People can feel them, touch
them, have their favorite colors.

And they would move
with a roll of the dice.

Draw to see who the murderer is.

And the squares on the board

will give the players an
opportunity to pick up a motive card,

like a "scene of the
crime" card or a "clue" card.

Which may or may not be genuine.

Oh, you mean a false clue,
like a wild card in poker.

(BOTH CHUCKLE)

This is just
wonderful, it really is.

But, you know, your
executive vice president,

Miss Delaney, has some concerns.

I already know what
that female Caligula said.

Ignore her. She's
on a power trip.

And, like in your books,

things are never quite what
they seem to be, are they?

(LAUGHING)

Don't tell anyone you have access
to B100. That's our little secret.

Oh, yes. Yes, of
course. Of course. But...

Over here, Mrs.
Fletcher, on the double.

I wanna be in the game.

I wanna be one
of your characters.

All right, partner, drop
it. Come on, get 'em up.

(GUNSHOTS)

Keep 'em high!

(MACHINERY WHIRRING)

GREENSTREET: Talk
to your friend Brian Singer.

He did a campaign for a
board game called Waffles.

Not half as clever as yours.
But maybe he can help.

(LAUGHING)

STELOFF: It's not gonna work.

Why do you say that?

Well, face it, darling, the old
man still has the key decision.

The choice of agency.

Without Marathon's
business, this agency's through.

And I'm through.

But you're not
gonna let that happen.

Greenstreet has a
very special feeling

for Packard's brain trust, Brian
Singer and that girl, what's her name?

Amanda North. Amanda North.

I understand the
relationship is very vulnerable.

Why don't you offer her a
job, get her on your team?

I can do that.

I'll do it.

But if you make a
play for her, it's all over.

(CLATTERING)

Taxi! Hello!

Taxi! Taxi!

(HORN BLARING)

Amanda, it's Boris
Steloff. Can I give you a lift?

Sure.

It was quite serendipitous,
bumping into each other.

I was going to call.

I thought you and Miles
were at each other's throats

until the Marathon
account was settled.

Oh, true. I just thought you
and I should have a chat.

So we didn't just bump into each
other, did we? What's this about?

Well, you have
incredible talent.

You need to spread your wings.

And Miles has given
me every break.

Miles, no.

(CHUCKLING) I'm
not talking about Miles.

You mean Brian?

Mmm.

Thanks. Mmm-hmm.

You could do a whole lot
better with me, Amanda.

I'm talking
substantially better.

Amanda?

My office, tomorrow night?

You've nothing to lose.

MEREDITH: In as
few words as possible,

could I ask you to describe
what this monstrosity represents?

(STAMMERING) Oh, well, it's a
dump truck, like Sales ordered.

Only it's designed
like the real thing.

An apt description, because
that's where it belongs.

In the dump.

For cost purposes, I asked
you to make it four wheels.

Uh, no, dump trucks can't
operate on four wheels.

They... And you have six.

At our last meeting,
we discussed color,

and agreed upon Number 3 green,

of which we have an
ample supply, and yet...

(STAMMERING) No, no, no. Now,
hold on a minute, Miss Delaney.

Now, I was making the
changes you requested,

when Mr. Greenstreet
happened to stop by my bench.

Now, you know what a
bug he is on authenticity.

Thank you, Frank.
That will be all.

(STUTTERING)
It's no big deal to...

Right. Whatever you say.

You're J.B. Fletcher.

That's right.

I'm Frank Christy, one
of Marathon's designers.

Oh, how do you do?

Well, I've read all
your books and, uh...

Well, I heard about your
game, and all the best with it.

Well, that's very kind.
If I'm not mistaken,

that's a very handsome
dump truck you've got there.

I wish you luck with it.

Thanks, Mrs. Fletcher.

Have accounting cut his last
check and severance, whatever.

I want him out of here today.

Mrs. Fletcher, I
am truly, truly sorry

for bringing you in
on such short notice,

but I had upsetting news.

Oh, I'm sorry.

You've been spending time with
Mr. Greenstreet on this game of yours.

Oh, yes. That's true, but...

Well, Mrs. Fletcher, I don't know
how to make this any clearer,

but the man is just not with it.

With it or without it,

Mr. Greenstreet may be
an eccentric, Miss Delaney,

but in the impromptu meeting that I've
had with him, he gave me major help.

I think you understand what
I'm telling you, Mrs. Fletcher.

I certainly do. You're telling
me not to talk to Mr. Greenstreet.

And I have to tell you that I find
that a very difficult adjustment.

Mrs. Fletcher...

Try to understand.

Boss Lady has such
heavy responsibilities

and no one to share them with.

But she'll always have
you, won't she, Moffett?

(DOOR OPENS)

(DOOR CLOSES)

Would it change
your mind to know

that Frank Christy's worked
for this company for 15 years?

Then he should've
been fired years ago.

We have too many
Neanderthals as it is.

Canning Frank Christy is a snap.

Firing your husband's
not so easy, is it?

What are you getting at?

Don't you think the whole town
knows about you and Boris Steloff?

When and where am I going
to be served papers, Meredith?

On the job? In the bedroom?

So it was you who
was spying on us.

Someone's been spying
on you and Steloff?

God, what a bore that must be.

I want you out of here by
the end of your contract term.

You haven't forgotten our
prenuptial agreement, have you?

How could I? It's been
a lot on my mind lately.

(DOOR CLOSES)

And take your pick
of the cosmetic lines.

Plus, you'll have sole creative
and media responsibility

for the Marathon account.

What makes you so
sure you'll get Marathon?

Well, let's say I
hold some aces.

Look, Amanda, I'm offering you
twice what you're getting at Payton,

three years firm.

And a vice presidency.

Yes. With the likelihood of a
full partnership this time next year.

You're a hard man to refuse.

(GLASSES CLINKING)

Hope you weren't planning
on building that into the deal.

No. No, I couldn't resist.

It won't happen
again, I promise.

Give me several days, Boris.

There are some people
that I need to tell first.

Of course, I understand.

BRIAN: Sorry I'm
late, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, Brian, thank you
for your time. That's okay.

Listen, someone mentioned to me

that you did a very
successful ad campaign

for a game called Waffles.

You mean, Pancake Man.

Oh, right. Yes, Pancake Man.

Anyway, they told me that you
came in early at the concept stage.

And I was wondering if you
might like to take a look at my...

Brian?

Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

I should've called this off.
My head isn't anywhere today.

Oh, is something wrong?

Amanda called.

She's leaving the agency and
she's going with Boris Steloff.

Oh, dear.

You know what that means.

That means she'll take all
the ideas she and I developed

for the Marathon project
and give them to Steloff.

(SIGHS)

The deal is made, lover.

Amanda North signs
with me tomorrow.

You never cared for me or us.

Just the Marathon account.

It was a harmless
moment, for God's sake.

You did the one thing for
which I will never forgive anyone.

You could've been the
biggest man in town.

Now your name is
gonna be dirt. Count on it.

GREENSTREET:
Ladies and gentlemen,

welcome to
Marathon's silver jubilee.

At this time, it's
my great pleasure

to present five real
special Marathoners.

The very first members
of the 20-year club.

As a token of those 20 years,

for the two ladies
we have earrings,

cuff links for the
three gentlemen.

Leading off, let's hear it

for our Executive Vice
President, Meredith Delaney.

(ALL APPLAUDING)

Fred Stinson, Shipping.

Paul Bodanovich, Personnel.

Everett Davenport, Design.

And Sylvia Moffett, Secretarial.

Let's hear it for these
outstanding Marathoners.

Poor Moffett.

Hello, Devery. Why poor Moffett?

Working for Boss
Lady all that time?

My term was only two years.

Mr. McFarlane has
joined the elite group.

What makes you so happy, Frank?

Ah, hell, there are worse
things than being fired.

I guess Mrs. Fletcher
would agree with that.

I'm only sorry you won't
be working on my project.

Watch out for the
end of next month.

I'm not sure even
Edgar Greenstreet

can save this company
from madam's claws.

(CLASSICAL MUSIC PLAYING)

Do you feel like
dancing, Mrs. Fletcher?

Of course she does.

Excuse us, young man.

Hi.

Hi.

Amanda, I've been
thinking about us, and

how I behaved, and

there's still time for us to
start again. I mean, for me.

You've been right about
a lot of things, damn it,

and more than that, I love you,

and nothing's important to
me any more, except you.

Boris, I've been
calling all day.

I went over the materials
you sent yesterday...

We have a problem.

I hope you haven't
burnt any bridges.

Uh-oh. Trouble in River City.

He's telling that poor girl

he doesn't have a lock
on Marathon anymore.

You are a role player.

You know a lot more
about what's going on here

than certain people realize.

Well, maybe that's my
defense against certain people.

Oh.

But let's talk some
more about the game.

What say we blow this joint?

Like 10:30 in B100?

Well, I'll have to check with
my escort, but, okay, 10:30.

(BELL DINGS)

Oh, forgive the
intrusion, Miss Delaney,

have you seen Brian Singer?

(PHONE RINGING) Brian Singer?

Just a minute.

Yes?

You're what?

Yes, but how did...

Never mind. Just stay where
you are. I'll be right there.

No, I haven't seen him.

(BELL DINGS)

(CLOCK CHIMING)

(TOY TRAIN HORN TOOTING)

(CHUFFING)

Howdy, partner.

(LAUGHING)

She's dead, Mr. Greenstreet.

HORNBECK: Been
no detailed analysis

of the cause of death
completed at this time.

However, preliminaries indicate
massive trauma to the skull,

produced by a blow that knocked
deceased into a toy railroad car.

Followed by two more blows,

and the weapon was a crowbar,

same used to open
a security cabinet.

Apparently, the
victim interrupted

a robbery in progress.

Item, one earring,

found missing on
decedent, recovered on floor.

Lieutenant Hornbeck,
please forgive me,

but surely, if the
motive was robbery,

and the first blow landed
Miss Delaney in the railway car,

then the second
and the third blow

would be somewhat redundant.

Your point, Mrs. Fletcher?

That the assailant's
motive was to kill, not to rob.

In which case, the broken security
cabinet would simply be misdirection.

Yeah, excuse me.

Harry. Yeah?

Take this, the murder weapon.

Get it to Forensics right away.

Yes, sir. Mrs. Fletcher.

Among my colleagues,

you have a fast-growing
reputation for deductive reasoning.

But if you don't mind, for
now, it's robbery interruptus.

The perpetrator committed
the homicide to avoid exposure.

Excuse me.

(STUTTERING)
Moffett, I'm so sorry.

It's Mr. McFarlane. He's waiting
upstairs for the Lieutenant.

That's the woman's
husband, Lieutenant.

Oh! Upstairs.

No one will blame you if you
want to go home, you know, Moffett.

Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher,
but there'll be tidying to do.

DEVERY: I'd be less than honest

if I said my wife was
universally loved.

But I can't think of anyone
who hated her enough to kill her.

I've told you, those two
men whose agencies

would live or die on the
Marathon advertising account,

either one of them would have
given anything for the contents

of that security cabinet
you say was broken into.

Who had access to B100?

I don't know.

The industry is very paranoid
when it comes to security.

My wife was even more so.

A digital code was required
only after work hours.

It was for Miss Delaney
herself, Mr. McFarlane,

Mr. Greenstreet, and five
designers who work there.

I'll need the names
of all those designers.

Yes, sir.

Yeah.

I got to tell you, it's
a whole new world.

What kind of a toy
would someone kill for?

It wasn't a toy yet, but the
design and specs for one.

Project 2100.

A concept that would lead the
industry into the next century.

You're kidding. Into
the next century?

And you figure that's
what was stolen, huh?

Yes, I do.

DEVERY: Believe it or not, two
years ago, I was in love with Meredith.

I married her in good faith.

But most everybody
knew I came to despise her.

You must have heard about
her affair with Boris Steloff.

Yes. I'm afraid so.

But what few know is that Meredith
and I had a prenuptial agreement.

With a divorce I got
nothing, but now she's dead.

I inherit whatever
there is to inherit.

Which must be considerable.

You're the writer. What
will the police do with that?

It depends. Did
you kill your wife?

If J.B. Fletcher has to ask that,
I'd better get myself a good lawyer.

In the morning,

if you wonder why Edgar Greenstreet
suddenly looks 10 years younger,

get a copy of the Annual Report.

It comes out tomorrow.

JESSICA: Hello,
Amanda? Jessica Fletcher.

I'm sorry to be calling
you so early in the morning.

Oh, then you know.

Yes, just an awful tragedy.

Well, I was calling you to see if, by
any chance, you'd heard from Brian.

No?

Well, he disappeared
on me last night.

Oh, yeah, I tried him at home.

Well, thank you, Amanda.

Moffett.

I was here at 8:00 and they
were still tearing the place apart.

Yes, it must be so distressing.

And I'm afraid that I'm
gonna have to trouble you

for my signed
copy of the contract.

Of course.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, you've had a
long night, Lieutenant.

Are you any closer?

Uno phone call away.

But you know, all the designers
who had access to B100,

they all had
corroborated alibis.

Including Frank Christy?

The guy she fired? Mmm-hmm.

See, that was my hunch, too.

But he had an airtight
alibi just like the rest.

There was something
strange, though.

His bank account showed a $20,000
cash deposit made two days ago.

And then the whole
chunk was withdrawn

in traveler's checks
late yesterday.

And by this morning,
he disappeared.

(PHONE RINGING)

Goes to show there's a lot of
money to be made in toys, huh?

Lieutenant, it's for you.

Excuse me.

Hello?

Thank you, Moffett.

Got it.

All right, boys, wrap it up.

Forensics identified our killer.

They found his fingerprints
on the murder weapon

and all over the door to B100,
some guy named Brian Singer.

(SCOFFS) Brian?

Oh, Lieutenant, I'm afraid you're
jumping to some very fast conclusions.

What, you know this guy?

Well, yes. It happens he
was my escort last night.

Oh.

Well, then I guess you
and I are gonna be spending

some more time
together, Mrs. Fletcher.

JESSICA: Brian, the police
have been looking all over for you.

Where've you been?

I'm really sorry I ran
out on you last night.

Things just seemed to
go haywire real quick.

All right, Brian, now
start at the beginning.

Now, the last time we saw
each other was around 9:30?

A little after that,

I saw Greenstreet get into the
elevator and go down to the basement.

He was by himself.
I followed him.

And you thought that if you
could get him one-on-one,

you just might be able to sell
him your agency's proposal?

Yeah.

Amanda is right.
I am pig-headed.

But as it turned out, I
couldn't find him anyway.

So, I got to exploring some
of the workshops down there

and I must've
lost track of time.

And then when I started
back, I came across B100.

But surely you knew that access to
B100 was only with the digital code.

It was open.

I thought maybe
Greenstreet was in there.

And I saw this busted
security cabinet on the wall

and went for that, and
then I tripped on something.

The crowbar, wet with blood.

Well, I thought somebody
might've thought I'd broken in.

So I ran.

And you didn't see
anybody else down there?

No.

(PHONE RINGING)

This is Jessica Fletcher.

Hi, it's Edgar Greenstreet.

I know it's not
the best of times,

but would you care to pick up
where we left off on Murder Will Out?

Oh, yes, yes. Yes, I would.

But could we possibly
make it later in the day?

I've got some errands.

How's 6:00, here in B100?

6:00 is fine.

And plan on dinner later.

All right.

Brian, I want a straight
answer to a simple question.

Did you kill Meredith Delaney?

No, Mrs. Fletcher.

Everything happened
just like I said.

I came here because I just didn't
know where to turn to for help.

All right.

But you're guilty of some
very foolish behavior.

But I will help
on one condition.

That you immediately
contact the police.

I'll do that right now, Mrs.
Fletcher, and thank you.

I wonder if you might tell me

where I can find
a friend of mine.

His name is Frank Christy.

Oh, you're too late, ma'am.
Frank left early this morning.

Oh, did he say
where he was going?

Nope. Had his passport, plane
ticket and some brand-new luggage.

Said he was off
to faraway places.

Isn't that just like Frank?

How's that?

Well, I mean, I loaned
him my 10-cup coffeepot

and it's poker night tonight
and the girls are coming over.

I don't suppose I
could just, you know...

(CHUCKLES)

Down the hall. The door is open.

His sister just came
by for her bread maker.

Hello? Anybody here?

Mrs. Fletcher.

What in the heck
are you doing here?

After I talked to you on
the phone this morning,

I began to think that Brian had finally
done something really pig-headed.

Like trying to bribe Frank
Christy for the access code.

Yes, that's what
brought me here, too.

And I suspect that somebody did
bribe Mr. Christy to the tune of $20,000.

Frank Christy could tell us, but
he's probably in London by now.

Well, if it's any
consolation, it wasn't Brian.

And I don't see anything here
that would tell us who it was.

Well, look, I'm late
for an appointment.

Can I give you a
ride across town?

Oh, thank you, Mrs. Fletcher,

but I want to try to find
where they have Brian.

Maybe I can see him.

I think he'd like that.

Do you think it's possible
he's learned a lesson?

Trust your instincts, and
don't forget to lock up.

Do you always do that?

Do what?

Remove your earring when
you make a phone call?

Guess it's just a habit.

Just a habit.

Cute.

Oh, Moffett, I'm
glad I caught you.

I just stopped
by a broker friend

to pick up a copy of the
Marathon Annual Report.

Perhaps you could
clarify something for me.

I'll certainly try,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Now, it says here that
Miss Delaney owned

over 300,000 shares
of Marathon stock.

Something like that.

Each year, her contract
entitled her to options.

She always exercised them.

Now, those shares would
be Devery McFarlane's now.

I would suppose.

Unless she arranged for them
to be left to somebody else.

And it also says that on
the last day of next month,

she could have acquired
an additional 200,000 shares.

Why does that surprise you?

Well, with allies on the board,

she would have had even more
power than Edgar Greenstreet.

You'll have to excuse
me, Mrs. Fletcher.

It's all been too much for me.

Of course.

Moffett just called to say
you have doubts about me.

Something to do with Meredith
Delaney's stock options.

Only questions, Mr. Greenstreet.

Brian Singer may have been in
the wrong place at the wrong time,

but he's an unlikely candidate
for Meredith Delaney's murderer.

Well, what are the alternatives?

Well, let's start with your
mechanical gunslinger.

Oh, what happened to him?

I had Pistol Pete removed
from the premises.

This whole thing has
been very traumatic for him.

What about those
two bloodsuckers,

Boris Steloff and Miles Packard?

Possibles.

I've been told that either one of
them would have killed his mother

for the Marathon account.

But I think that Mr. Steloff
had more reason.

Yes. After Meredith discovered
him making a hit on Amanda North.

What about Amanda?

Nobody's above suspicion
in a game of Murder Will Out!

Agreed.

But there's still another
alternative, isn't there?

(LAUGHING)

You're saying I've drawn
the murderer's card.

All right. Draw a
scene of the crime

and tell the other
players what it says.

It says that about a half an hour
before you and I came upon her body,

Meredith Delaney
received a call at her desk.

It upset her at first, and
then it seemed to thrill her.

Doubtless from her killer.

Apparently, someone she knew.

And what drew her here was the
promise of something so important,

that the killer was
certain that she'd come.

You'd have to draw a clue card
to substantiate that, Mrs. Fletcher.

The clue card
reads, "Project 2100."

You'd been tantalizing
Meredith Delaney with it.

Knowing that
without all that sizzle,

she could never have the credibility
she needed to inherit your job.

Motive rears its ugly head.

Her growing power in the company
was beginning to threaten you.

If she'd lived,

she would have had enough
leverage to take your place as CEO.

There's a card that's
left out, Mr. Greenstreet.

You mean the wild card.

Yes, and what would that be?

That Project 2100 never existed,

except, perhaps, in your head.

That's nonsense.

Then it really was stolen,

just as you implied to
Lieutenant Hornbeck last night.

There's a real problem
with that, Mr. Greenstreet.

You came in with me,

so we both know that you
hadn't been near the cabinet.

Unless you'd been here earlier.

Go on.

Brian Singer followed you down
to the basement to talk to you.

The door was open
and he entered,

thinking that he
would find you here.

Instead, he discovered
Meredith Delaney.

If you are the murderer, you
were probably still here at the time.

Right in every respect
but one, Mrs. Fletcher.

Moffett. What are
you talking about?

How did you get in here?

Calm down, Mr. Greenstreet.

Moffett's just doing what
she's done for the last 20 years.

Looking after you.

As for getting in
here without the code,

it cost her a potful of money.

Frank Christy solved that
problem for you, didn't he, Moffett?

I've read enough of
your books, Mrs. Fletcher,

to know that you
counted on my being here.

Yes, I suspected you
wouldn't allow Mr. Greenstreet

to appear to be
Meredith Delaney's killer.

It must have been very
difficult over all these years.

Playing the role of the
perfect little drudge was easy.

Watching her grow
more and more powerful,

not so easy.

I'm lost. What told
you it was Moffett?

It had to do with the 20-year
earrings you gave out.

They were identical,
except for the fact

that Moffett's were
for pierced ears,

and Miss Delaney's
were clip-ons.

This afternoon, I was reminded

that Miss Delaney had the
habit of removing her left earring

when she took a phone call. Yes?

She did that last night when
she took Moffett's call here.

And forgot to put it back on.

So, Miss Delaney was
only wearing one earring,

a clip-on, when she died.

Which raised the question,
whose earring was it

that Lieutenant Hornbeck
found on the floor?

It was for a pierced ear.

And since you only gave out two
sets of earrings, it had to be Moffett's.

JESSICA: Which meant
that she had access to B100,

and was, at some point,
on the scene of the murder.

MOFFETT: The stud
on my earring was loose.

No!

It got knocked off
when I struck her.

Upstairs, I realized
what happened.

The first thing I did was to put
on the clip-on she'd left behind.

I'll want to make a statement
to Lieutenant Hornbeck now.

Mr. Greenstreet
thinks I did it for him.

But I did it for myself.

Boss Lady had teeth
and claws, and I didn't.

She worked nights and
made keys to all the offices.

She copied people's ideas
and claimed them as her own.

She made love to the
men who could help her.

And when she couldn't use
them anymore, she fired them.

The day she became more powerful

than you could
handle, Mr. Greenstreet,

that's the day you came to
me, and I became your mole.

I've got to thank you.

It's the only thing that made
it bearable over the years.

That, and knowing that someday,

I'd have my own kind of revenge.

Moffett, I... I don't
know what to say.

Then stop calling me Moffett.

My name is Sylvia.

And so, it gives me great pleasure
to present you with this prototype copy

of the J.B. Fletcher
game, Murder Will Out!

Thank you, Edgar, and
thank you for making it happen.

All right, everybody, to the
table while the food is still hot.

There's something
I need to ask you.

What's that?

Now, your Project
2100, is that a reality,

or is that simply
another figment

of your overactive imagination?

Oh, it's a reality, all right.

In fact, it's called
"Virtual Reality."

Toys with the ultimate in
touchy-feely immediacy.

A-ha!

Congratulations, Mrs. Fletcher.

Thank you, Amanda. Brian.

It's good to see you two
working together again.

Oh, better than that. We've
decided it's time to go out on our own.

You mean your own
agency? That's wonderful.

Edgar, you haven't
made any final decision

about the Marathon
agency, have you?

GREENSTREET: Well, no.

Mr. Greenstreet, if
you have a moment,

Amanda and I would
really like to pitch you

on our new agency,
Singer and North.

That's North and
Singer. North and Singer.

You, with your version
of Virtual Reality

coming off the drawing board.

Us, with a design and
marketing approach

to bring toys into
the 21st century.