Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 9, Episode 19 - Lone Witness - full transcript

Hi, Mrs. Fletcher. Hello, Tommy.

Right over there. Thanks.

Well, you look
sensational to me.

You'll stop when we
tell you to stop. Got it?

Tell me what happened.

Cause of death
was strangulation.

Listen, Vic, I am gonna have a
bundle by the end of the week.

I promise, I will
pay you back in full.

No, this afternoon.

You and Monica, you're not...

I'm fixing her faucet.



I'm afraid I find that
very hard to accept.

Ah, this is interesting.

A bullet.

That means there are two people
who are determined to kill Tommy.

Tommy!

Excellent.

The quality is better this time.

But why so few? I
was promised more.

I don't know. I
just deliver them.

No matter.

Guilders?

Dollars are tight this
week. There is a problem?

No. No. No problem.

Flight 115 from Amsterdam
is now arriving at Gate 10.



Philip, I am sorry, but
it's just not possible.

Well, look, I'm barely
halfway through it.

It's gonna be all I can do
to finish it by Wednesday.

Yes, you, too.

And don't forget the
dinner party. Right.

I hate to disturb you again,
Jessica, but I can't find the oregano.

Oh, I think it's in the
left-hand cabinet there.

Hang on.

Here we are.

This was so sweet of you.

But I don't think it's the
best idea you ever had.

Susan, this is going
to be a huge success.

I mean, good heavens,
think how effortlessly

you prepared those
marvelous meals

for Seth and me and Eve
Simpson and Adele and the Sheriff.

Except none of you were thinking of
commissioning me to write a cookbook.

Listen to me, I guarantee
that Philip will take one bite

of your marvelous food,
and he will conclude

that he has died
and gone to heaven.

And you'll get a book contract.

Hi, Mrs. Fletcher. Hello, Tommy.

Right over there, please.

Listen, I want to thank you
again for those notes on my story.

They were right on the money.

Oh, I'm glad they
helped. Are you kidding?

They're printing it in
next week's school paper.

Oh, that's wonderful.

I've written another one. Would you
mind, you know, taking a look at it?

Well, if you give me a few
days, yes, send it to me.

Actually, I have a
copy of it right here.

Here. Take as long as you want.

Oh, and Mrs. Wells, best
of luck with your big banquet.

And if I don't see you again,
have a great trip back to Maine.

Why, thank you, Tommy.

Such a sweet boy.

And talented, too.

Oh! Oh, no! They've
forgotten the bay leaf.

And I cannot start Sauce
Espagnole without it.

The bay leaf.

Monica, hey! How was your trip?

Oh, exhausting. I feel as
if I could sleep for a week.

Well, you look
sensational to me.

Tommy.

What is it with you, Tommy?
You're driving me crazy.

I think you blew Mrs. Fletcher's
order. You forgot the bay leaves.

Oh, man.

Plus, she needs some more stuff.

Now, do me a favor. Try to
get it right this time, okay?

Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Oh, Monica,

I came in second in
the 100-meter butterfly.

Tommy!

I don't know what
it is with that kid.

His size twelves
may be on the ground,

but his head is in
Never-Never Land.

Mr. Eigers, he was
just saying hello.

Yeah, listen, Miss Evers, I
don't like to bother you with this,

but your grocery tab is
three months overdue.

I know, Mr. Eigers.
Tomorrow, okay?

No. This afternoon, or I'm afraid
I'm gonna have to cut your credit off.

Oh, Miss Evers. What
a lovely, lovely surprise.

Hi, Vic.

Hey. Hey. Let me take
that for you. Oh, yeah.

So, you gonna be
with us for a while?

Mmm-hmm. I'm gonna
be in town about four days.

Ah, maybe that's enough
time to catch up a little.

Last time you blew in and out of here
so fast, we hardly had a chance to talk.

Look, Vic, I'm really
tapped right now. Okay?

But I was hoping maybe you
could take some action for me.

See, there's this filly in
the fifth at Santa Anita...

You have got to be joking.

No. Listen, Vic, I am gonna have
a bundle by the end of the week.

I promise, I will pay you
back in full, and also...

Wonderful, you give me the
bet then. I'll take it for cash.

Vic, I'm talking about $500
here. It'll almost get me even.

Hey, save it for the tooth fairy,
and you count your blessings.

'Cause anybody else but me, they'd
come after those gorgeous kneecaps

or something else, a
long time ago. You got me?

Ciao, sweetie.

Monica! I didn't think you
were coming back till tomorrow.

Well, I guess that shows
how wrong a person can be.

I brought up your mail
and some packages.

Thank you.

Those roses came for
you. From that stockbroker.

Long stems, but I
guess he can afford them.

Yeah.

I noticed your answering machine. Oh,
my God, 27 messages in just three days.

I'm sorry, what did you say?

Oh, nothing.

Oh.

Oh, Sandy!

You don't need to water
my plants. I can do that.

Oh, I'm here.
Might as well do it.

Today's my watering day.

Planning a big
night on the town?

No. No, actually, I was just
gonna stay home tonight.

Tomorrow then? It'll
be party time as usual.

Nope. As a matter of fact, I was
thinking of maybe going out of town

for a couple days, alone.

With all the men that call you?

Listen, Sandy. I would love
to stay and chat with you,

but the flight was very full, and I'm just
wiped out. I just need some time alone.

I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to impose.

Oh, no. Oh, Sandy, you
weren't imposing. Really.

You were a great neighbor, and I appreciate
everything that you've done for me.

Well, you've sure got a
funny way of showing it.

Sandy!

It's me. No, no. No
problem. I got the money.

Billy, don't slap
the water, cut it!

You're rushing your strokes!
Derek, watch your breathing!

Pace yourself!

Sorry, I'm late.

Everybody gets
here on time but you.

Why do you suppose that is?

I couldn't help it.
You couldn't help it.

Like you can't help
dogging your homework.

Dad, I'm doing my best.
Don't blow smoke at me.

I see what's on your computer,
and it isn't homework assignments.

It's those fantasies you write.

What's on my computer is none
of your business. That's private.

Not as long as I'm
paying for it, it isn't.

Besides, I was doing my
homework. That's why I'm late.

Oh, yeah? Let me see.

Oh, for God's sakes, her again.

No wonder your
studies are going to hell.

Please, Dad, Monica's
a friend, that's all.

Friends like that you don't need.
She could almost be your mother.

That's not fair. You
don't know anything...

Okay.

Shut up, suit up,
and get in the pool.

This is all? What's going on?

Nothing.

He said the market's
flooded with stones right now.

Prices are way down.

Okay. Maybe we'll
do better next time.

I'll have to get this turned
into dollars before I pay you.

Fred, one more thing.

What is it?

I want out.

Why?

Because it's too
risky. I'm scared.

You? A gambler? Come on.

No! I don't like
the odds anymore.

And I'm not anxious
to go to prison either.

You'll stop when we
tell you to stop. Got it?

Then, Fred, I need an advance. I
need 10 grand, and I need it fast.

You and everybody else.

Yeah. Our boy in
Amsterdam has good hunches.

She's doing it to us again.

Okay.

Oh!

Oh, are you all right?

I am, but I'm not too
sure about my batter.

Well, nothing that another half-dozen
eggs and a couple of hours wouldn't cure.

See, if I could just get these
thumbs to work like fingers again.

Oh, Jessica, I can't tell
you how terrible I feel

about what I'm doing
to your schedule.

It's all right, Susan.
Don't worry about it.

If it wasn't this, it would be
something else, I assure you.

But everything smells wonderful.

Oh, it does, doesn't it?

Mmm.

Well, I just have to
keep telling myself that

the future of western civilization
does not depend on this meal.

Oh, speaking of civilization,

I just can't find the
white napkins that are

supposed to go with
your white tablecloth.

They're downstairs in the dryer.
They should be ready in a few minutes.

Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell
you. The gourmet shop called.

They're out of
chanterelle mushrooms.

Oh, that's not good. No.

The whole third course depends on
the chanterelle in the puffed pastry.

Ah, well, I will give
Mr. Eigers a call.

He's usually been rather handy
at stocking up these things.

Um, you have some
money for me, Miss Evers?

I will write you a
check, Mr. Eigers.

Good. I'd appreciate that a lot.

Excuse me.

Eigers' Grocery.

Hello, Mrs. Fletcher.
Chanterelle mushrooms?

Ah, let me take a look.

Yeah, yeah. I
think you're in luck.

Okay. You want me to
include them in your order?

That's the total you owe.

Okay. Oh! I don't believe
it. I'm out of checks.

Listen, Tommy, could you tell
Mr. Eigers that I'll be right back?

Yeah. You bet. Thanks.

Did you get her check?

No, but she's...

I told you no more credit, and you
let her walk right out of the store.

Look, Mr. Eigers, she
said she'd be right back.

She said. She said. What am
I gonna do with you, Tommy?

Look, deliver this
to Mrs. Fletcher,

but first, stop by Miss
Evers' and pick up her check.

Right.

Either she pays, or I'm
gonna take it outta your hide

for the stuff she walked
out of the store with.

Monica? What?

Mrs. Fletcher, Mrs. Fletcher!

Monica's dead. He killed
her. He killed... Oh, my God...

Tommy! Tommy, please calm down.

Now take a deep breath.

Now, tell me what happened.

Monica, she's a flight
attendant friend of mine,

and I saw this guy, he killed
her and he took a shot at me, too!

Oh, and I think that
we'd better call the police.

He looked right at me. I'd know
him for sure if I saw him again.

So, you didn't actually
see him kill her?

No. Monica was already dead.

So then the guy shoots at you,
and you drop the groceries and run.

Is that about it?

Yeah.

Eddie, any luck with the bullet?

Negative, sir. We've checked the floors,
the ceilings, we didn't find anything.

If a weapon was fired in here
and missed, there's gotta be

a bullet hole or a
nick somewhere.

I'm not imagining it,
Lieutenant. I heard it.

And the body? This Monica Evers?

He must've taken her away.

Look, Monica's dead! I saw her.

Calm down, son. I'm
trying to believe you.

Lieutenant, couldn't the body
have been hidden in one of

these storage lockers?

That's entirely
possible, Mrs. Fletcher.

But to get a search warrant, I've got to
convince a judge there's probable cause.

And just between you and me,
about the only crime I can see here

is maybe lying
to a police officer.

But why would Tommy do that?

I don't know. You tell me.

Maybe he panicked
because he dropped the

groceries. He seems
like a nice kid, though.

Lieutenant, would you mind if we went
upstairs to Monica Evers' apartment,

just to see if she's there?

It'll be my pleasure,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Guys, go on back to the
precinct. Eddie, come on.

Looks like someone's here.

Police! Whoever's in there, come out
with your hands in the air. Right now!

Whoa! Whoa! Wait a
minute. Come on, come on.

Don't go crazy on me now.

Who are you?

I'm the manager. I'm Vic Gorman.

What are you doing in there?

I'm fixing a faucet.

Uh, I take it that Miss
Evers is not here?

No. She went out about two
minutes ago. What's going on here?

Two minutes ago?

Yeah. She got a little tired of me
banging on the pipes. What's wrong?

Flowers and I are gonna check the basement
again, Mrs. Fletcher. Bring the kid.

Yes. Thank you,
Lieutenant. Let's go, Tom.

Look, Lieutenant, I
swear I'm telling the truth.

Take it easy, son. I'm
not gonna press charges.

I just want you to know that
making a false police report

is a serious crime.

You've wasted the
time of four officers,

plus I don't know how much you
value Mrs. Fletcher as a friend,

but you've certainly shown her
that your word isn't worth very much.

I don't know what
your problem is, son,

but you've got some
serious soul-searching to do.

I tell you something, if that was
my kid, I'd ground him for a year.

I don't know, Flowers. He saw
something, even if it wasn't a murder.

Hey, how about
that Fletcher lady?

Yeah, the guys at Manhattan South
were right on the money about her.

She's a genuine piece of work!

Look, Eddie, get Miss
Evers' phone number. Call her.

Keep calling her, until
you find out she's okay.

Meanwhile, we both better keep
our eyes out for any Jane Does

that may turn up in the morgue.

Gotcha. All right.

Sandy, darling. You're
just the lady I wanted to see.

Oh, Vic, I... Have
you seen Monica?

I'm not her
appointment secretary.

Hey, Sandy, don't bust my chops here.
All I want to know is, did you see her?

It's all this police business, isn't
it? She's in some sort of trouble.

Would you come on already, this
is important. Answer my question.

Not since this morning.

You sure?

Yes.

Listen, um... You and Monica,
you're not... You know...

What, are you kidding
me? This is business here.

I could be out a bundle.

She did mention something
about taking a trip by herself.

Oh, man, oh, man!

I'm fixing brisket
tonight. Your favorite.

You're still coming
over, aren't you?

I'll let you know.

Oh, I think I know why
Tommy told those lies.

Jess, wine, 60 bucks a bottle!

He broke them all when
he dropped the box.

You think he made
up that fantastic tale

because he didn't wanna
have to pay for all this?

Well, I guess it's
possible. How's it going?

I'm a lot less overwhelmed,
I'm happy to say.

You know, I think
it is gonna work out.

Hello?

Philip, how are you?

Well, let me ask her.

You're gonna love this.
Three of your hopefully

about-to-be publisher's
friends are coming into town

unexpectedly and Philip wants to know if he
can bring them along to the dinner party.

Oh, yes. I can work it
out. Just... somehow.

Say yes.

All right! Susan says that she'd be
delighted to welcome your friends.

Fifty laps?

For what? Telling the
truth? That's real fair.

Come on, Tommy, get
real, for God's sakes.

You're damned lucky
the police let you off.

Thanks, Dad. Thanks for nothing!

Tommy!

Look, son. I'm not trying
to give you a bad time.

Well, I guess I'm lucky, 'cause
you're doing a hell of a job, Dad.

Tommy, I just want you to know
that this is... Where are you going?

What does it matter?
Nothing I ever do is right.

Kid, what are you, crazy?

Three more people.

I must've been out of my mind.
Oh, well, I just keep telling myself

that I'm just going to
be rich and famous.

Look, the sugar!

Hold it. Let me get a bowl.

Oh, Jess! It's for
the crême brulée.

I mean, he must've broken
it when he dropped it.

Look.

Oh, I don't think
that's why it's leaking.

What is this?

I think it proves that
Tommy was telling the truth.

What are you looking for?

A bullet.

Somebody did shoot at him and
the sugar sack absorbed the impact.

Oh, lucky for him.

Thirty-seventh precinct.

Is Lieutenant
Warren there, please?

Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher.

I wanna get this right
over to Forensics.

Uh, and Miss Evers, have
you been able to reach her?

Detective Flowers has
been leaving messages

on her answering
machine every hour or so.

If she doesn't turn up by midnight,
I'll give it to Missing Persons.

Uh-huh. There's one other
thing, Lieutenant, Tommy Remsen.

I mean, if there is a killer at large,
he could be in very great danger.

That occurred to me, too, so I
spoke to his father a little while ago.

It seems the kid took off this
afternoon and he hasn't come home yet.

Oh, now, wait a minute. You're not
suggesting that you think that he...

If it turns out that
there was a murder,

it could also turn out that
Tommy is our perpetrator.

According to his father, the
kid had or has a very heavy duty

crush on Miss Evers.

And the feeling wasn't mutual.

Okay, better. Not good enough,
but better! Five lap cool down!

Mrs. Fletcher, you're the one who's
been helping him with those stories of his.

Well, I think he's
very talented.

Uh-huh. Tell me
something. Outside of that,

do you have any idea
what's wrong with him?

Mr. Remsen, I really
don't think it's my place to...

Look, I'm a coach, and
when I can't figure out

why a member of my team isn't
performing up to his potential,

I get another opinion. Because
every once in a while, it turns out to

be some simple
thing that I missed.

Well, I don't know
Tommy that well,

but I have the sense that he
very much wants to be a writer.

That again!

And, if I may say so, your
reluctance to recognize

that part of him
really bothers him.

Well, I tell you, I've got a hot
flash for you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Sports scholarships are a whole lot
easier to come by than literary ones.

Writers aren't exactly a
big draw at college stadiums.

On the other hand, a writer
can still perform after 35.

Well, you've got a point, there.

Anyway, I guess like
most parents today,

one of my big worries is that he
might be involved with drugs, you know,

that whole scene.

Yeah. Well, has he ever
given you any indication of that?

Well, the running away.

I mean, he'll be back.
This isn't the first time.

Except now, the police want
to talk to him. And that guy.

What guy?

You mean this might have to do with that
thing he was supposed to have witnessed?

See, yesterday,
when Tommy took off,

there was this bozo. I saw him come
down the street and walk towards Tommy.

Tommy took one
look at him and ran.

Mr. Remsen, do you think that
you could describe him to the police?

Yeah, sure.

Monica murdered?

Please! She was home last night.

You saw her?

No, but when I came in, I heard
noises coming from her apartment.

I mean, she is always
partying. Very popular.

Even with delivery
boys. Oh, it's open.

Oh, my goodness.
Look at this place.

This explains the sounds
you heard last night.

Hello? Monica?

Anyone home?

I'll check the bedroom.

Well, it's hard to believe. The
bedroom's an even bigger mess.

These don't take much water.

No. Once a week is enough.

It would be hard to tell if
anything was missing here.

Impossible.

Mrs. Fletcher, I'm
worried about Monica.

I think you have reason
to be, Miss Oates.

So what's this
got to do with me?

V.G.? Vic Gorman?

Lady, there are a lot of
people with those initials.

Yes. But not too many who claim
to be repairing a faucet in a silk suit

and an expensive gold watch.

You know, I like you,
lady. You're all right.

Yeah, I was taking
bets from Monica.

The girl had the worst
luck on the west side.

And she owes you money?

Big. Twelve large, give or take.

That's why I was in the
apartment. I was looking for cash.

And that's why you said
that Monica had just left.

You didn't want the police to think that
you were in there without her permission?

You're really out there,
you know. You want some?

What was the last time
that you actually saw her?

Hmm. Yesterday.
Sometime before noon.

I see.

I assume that Monica rented one of
those storage rooms down in the basement?

Yeah. A lot of the
tenants do. Why?

I wonder, would it be
possible for me to see it?

How about keeping
me out of this, huh?

My only concern is the
safety of a young man.

Okay, let's go.

After you.

Geez. What a load of junk.

It looks as if something
was dragged across the floor.

A trunk, maybe.

Or a body.

What's this doing here?

It's Monica's.

And if she had left,
she didn't go very far.

What do you mean?

Well, here's her
wallet and her passport.

And a one-way ticket to Geneva.

Damn it. She's
bugging out on me.

Well, perhaps you
weren't the only one.

Well, I hope that you and the
super didn't destroy any evidence

down there, inadvertently.

Well, I hope not, Lieutenant. Now, you
were saying you found Monica Evers' body?

Yeah. They fished her
out of the Harlem River.

Up around 225th Street. Do
you want some more coffee?

No, thank you. No. Then
Tommy was telling the truth?

Not necessarily. Cause
of death was strangulation.

She was garroted.

But if the killer
strangled her, why...

Why would he fire a
gun at Tommy Remsen?

Well, I've got a couple of
theories about that, Mrs. Fletcher,

one of which you're gonna hate.

We know that the kid
had the hots for the victim.

Suppose he bumps
into her in the basement,

nobody's around, he makes a pass
at her, and he goes a little bit too far.

Boys at that age can be kind of
klutzy where it comes to romance.

Anyway, she rejects him, or
worse, she threatens to report him.

So, he strangles her.

And the gunshot?

You said he's creative.

After he kills her, he
dreams up this story,

and with his own gun fires
a bullet into the sugar sack,

knowing that sooner or
later it's gonna be found.

Well, you were
right, Lieutenant.

I not only hate it, I find
it very difficult to believe.

Oh, hey, I don't love it myself.

And your other notion?

That the boy saw
what he said he saw.

And the murderer wasn't alone. There
was a second person who fired at Tommy.

An accomplice.

Yeah. I like that much better.

So do I.

Nobody likes to think of a
typical all-American kid like that,

with those clear, blue
eyes looking out at you

from under that
baseball cap, as a killer.

But, hey, I wouldn't be doing my
job if I didn't keep all my options open.

Oh, I understand.

Anyway, Mrs. Fletcher,
I just want you to know,

we are pursuing the hell
out of the accomplice theory.

Well, I'm glad. Because if
it's true, that means there

are two people who are
determined to kill Tommy.

Oh, Tommy's father called.

He asked if you'd
heard from him.

Oh, Lieutenant
Warren spoke to him.

I think Mr. Remsen is
beginning to realize that

Tommy may be in more
danger than he thought.

Oh, it would be so much
simpler back in Cabot Cove.

There are not so
many places to hide.

New York City, I don't
know, he could be anywhere.

Oh, I glanced at that.

I'm not a science-fiction fan, you
know, but I think he writes beautifully.

Well, I think he has quite
a flair for poetic images.

Oh, that's exactly
what struck me, Jessica.

Oh, it's about a young
space alien, you know,

and he comes from
a distant galaxy.

He's wrongly accused of treason,

so he hides in the dome
of the space academy

and he never learns
that he's been cleared.

By the time they
get to him, he's dead.

I think it's very touching, and it has
some really interesting characters.

What is it, Jess?

Lieutenant Warren. Yes. You
know, I think I know where Tommy is.

Would you meet me
over at his school?

Good. I'm gonna call his father.

Listen, you may have to preside
over this dinner party on your own,

but it's gonna be
a huge success.

I don't know, Mrs. Fletcher, it seems to
me this is the last place Tommy would go.

Someone's broken in here.

Wait. Let me go first.

Oh, my God!

Tommy!

Thank God it's not Tommy.

Looks like a single
shot through the head.

Is this the guy your son
was running away from?

Yeah, it looks like him.

Well, he matches the
description the grocer gave

of the man who came in
his store looking for your son.

Eddie, I want the full
forensics team on this, and fast.

Okay.

We gotta get some prints
ASAP. We've got to ID this guy.

Find out who he was working for.

Gotcha, Lieutenant.

Mrs. Fletcher, I assume you
think Tommy's holed up here

somewhere in the school?

Yes. Yes, I do, and
I think I know where.

I need a forensics team and the
coroner here at Montclair High School,

and right away. Thank you.

Dad!

Tommy, are you okay?

Yeah, sort of. I thought
you were that guy.

Son, how long have
you been up here?

Since yesterday. I didn't
know where else to go.

The guy that killed
Monica, he was chasing me,

and no one would believe
me except Mrs. Fletcher.

Thank God you're all right.

Oh, Tommy.

Tommy, did you hear anything
unusual while you were up here?

No. Like what?

Well, like a gun shot.

You see, the man who was
following you was killed downstairs.

Killed?

This is interesting.

I've never seen that before.

This has been recently fired.

I didn't even know it was there.

Son, pending the outcome
of tests to determine whether

or not this is a murder weapon,

I'm placing you in
protective custody.

You're putting him in jail?

Mr. Remsen, the man in the pool
could have been killed by his accomplice

in the murder of Monica
Evers, which means

that Tommy's life
could still be in danger.

Or...

Victim's name is Fred Turner.

He's a jewel thief with a rap
sheet about eight miles long.

Also, a suspect in a
diamond center murder.

And you're charging
my son with his murder?

I'm afraid so, Mr. Remsen.

We've got fingerprints, we've
got a paraffin test, you name it.

I'll see if the DMV
records have come in.

And what about the weapon?

This bullet was taken
from Turner's body.

It's a .32 caliber from the gun
that I found in the school attic.

Yeah, but it could have
been in self-defense.

I mean, this Fred Turner was
following him, threatening him.

Yeah, it could've been
self-defense, all right,

but Ballistics says that this
bullet is a match for the one

you found in the sugar sack.

The one Tommy
claimed was fired at him.

They were both fired
from the same gun.

So you're saying Tommy
killed Monica Evers, too?

The truth is, I don't think Turner was
anywhere near Monica Evers' killing.

I think he was part
of some bad element

that your son Tommy
had fallen in with.

Oh, God.

I'm afraid I find that
very hard to accept.

Look, both of you,
this is lousy for me, too.

You know, I'm beginning
to realize how far away

I've pushed my son,
riding him the way I did.

Trying to make him go in the
directions that I wanted for him.

Suddenly, all that stuff seems
so unimportant, so wrong.

Well, look, if it's
any consolation,

I'm quite sure
you're not the first

well-meaning father to
have done it that way.

Oh, thanks, but that doesn't
make it any less stupid.

And now, it's a little
late to set things right.

I wouldn't be too
sure of that, Dan.

You've been so
supportive of me, Jess.

I just wish I could say
something that would help.

You know, there's something
that doesn't quite track.

Would you give
me a hand with this?

Oh, sure.

Now, we have got
to flip this carefully.

You're gonna put
it on this dish, huh?

Yes, I think so.
It's kind of a...

We ready?

All right.

Come up now. Come on.

It's a vacuum.

Oh, Susan, that is beautiful.

Thank you.

Congratulations!

The sink, it looks like it's
getting ready to overflow.

Oh, it's all stopped up.

Jessica, are you all right?

Susan, I feel a lot better
now than I did a moment ago.

I think I know who
committed those murders,

and it wasn't Tommy Remsen.

Now wait a minute,
you know all that

just because those little holes in
the stopper basket were plugged up?

Actually, one little hole,
and the bullet that made it.

If I'm not mistaken, one more look
at one of Monica Evers' flower pots

will tell me why she was killed.

Oh, thank you for
coming, Lieutenant.

It's my pleasure, Mrs. Fletcher.

There's nothing I'd like better than to
see Tommy Remsen get off the hook.

So, what do you have for me?

Well, clearly everything revolved
around Monica Evers' murder.

But the motive, that
was really obscure.

And if the boy didn't do it,
you've certainly got that right.

Unless you were to suppose
that she was killed at least in part

because she had something
the murderers wanted very badly

and they were unable
to find on her person.

Whoa, now. Where
did that come from?

Well, because they searched
her apartment after they killed her.

I assumed they'd found it.

But when my sink filled up
because the drain was blocked,

I remembered one of Miss Evers'
plants was dying from being over-watered.

It occurred to me that the drain hole in
the bottom of the pot was being blocked

by something, something...

Like a bag of diamonds.

Diamonds that she was
holding out from the killers,

for whom she'd been
working as a courier.

Mrs. Fletcher, that
is very impressive.

Fred Turner was a suspected
diamond thief, and Miss Evers...

She was a flight attendant
who regularly flew to Amsterdam,

one of the great diamond
centers of the world, where

she'd sell the stones
Mr. Turner had stolen,

converting them to cash, which
she brought back to New York.

And she was holding these back.

I like it. I like this.

Problem is, who killed Turner?

We're still stuck with all that evidence
pointing toward Tommy Remsen.

Perhaps.

You're losing me.

I think Mr. Turner was
killed by his partner.

When Tommy entered the basement,

he saw Fred Turner
crouching over Monica's body.

What he didn't see was the
man who fired the gun at him...

Monica?

And then framed him. That man
could only be one person, you.

Mrs. Fletcher, I was with
you right up until that one.

Well, one of the things that led
me to that conclusion, Lieutenant,

were your own words.

Nobody likes to think that
a typical all-American kid

like that, with those
clear, blue eyes looking out

at you from under that
baseball cap, is a killer.

So?

After witnessing
Miss Evers' murder,

Tommy dropped his baseball
cap in the lobby of my building.

Oh, my God! He killed her.

Tommy. Tommy, please calm
down. Now take a deep breath.

Now, tell me what happened.

Monica, she's a flight
attendant friend of mine.

When you arrived on the scene
to investigate, he was bareheaded.

The only time you could
have seen him wearing it

was when you
fired a shot at him.

This is not exactly what we'd
call hard evidence, Mrs. Fletcher.

No, but there's plenty of that.

The bullet you showed me in your
office, the bullet that killed Fred Turner,

you said it was the same .32
caliber round that fired at Tommy,

and from the same gun.

It was. I have ballistics
tests that show that.

Test results concocted by you.

The truth is the bullet that
I found in the sugar sack

was a .9mm, the same caliber
that's used in police pistols.

It's noticeably
larger than a .32,

which was the bullet that you
showed me in the police station.

I can show you that the bullet
that you took out of the sugar sack

and the bullet that killed Fred
Turner were both .32 caliber.

Oh, I'm sure you can
because you switched them.

I'm also sure a real
forensics report will indicate

that Tommy's fingerprints
weren't on the gun,

which you must have planted
only seconds before you "found" it.

And I have no doubt they'll
be able to prove you also

faked the paraffin test
that implicated Tommy.

Well, Mrs. Fletcher, you certainly
seem to have everything all figured out.

But there's absolutely nothing
to connect me to Fred Turner.

Wrong, Lieutenant. You caught
Turner pulling a jewelry store robbery.

In exchange for not turning him in,
you made an arrangement with him.

He'd supply the goods and you'd
find someone to carry it to Europe.

Enter Monica Evers.

And who told you that?

I did, Lieutenant.

I checked a little further into
the records, Mrs. Fletcher.

And as it turned out,

Monica Evers was caught in a
gambling sting right in our own precinct.

She was in deep to the bookies.

I figured she'd do
almost anything to get out.

And unfortunately
for her, you were right.

And Turner was the only one
who knew that you were involved.

And Tommy had identified him.

So, as soon as I arranged
to meet you at the school,

you called Turner, got there before
we did and killed him with a silencer.

How did you know that?

Because Tommy
didn't hear the shot.

You are good, Mrs.
Fletcher. You're good.

No, Lieutenant.

Mrs. Fletcher told me she thought you
were involved. I said to myself, no way.

I've just never known
a better cop than you.

Eddie, I know you'd feel
better if I gave you the speech

about the kids in college
and the leaky plumbing and the

wife's surgery, while these bozos
who belong in jail are living like kings.

What the truth is? I like money.

Enough to commit murder for it.

Well, I guess the next
time I see you, Jessica,

you'll be at my autograph
party for my cookbook.

At which I guarantee they'll still
be talking about your dinner party.

It was a magnificent meal,
Susan. You really outdid yourself.

Your solving of those murders
will stay with people a lot longer

and with considerably
fewer calories.

Hi, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, hello, Tommy.

Mrs. Wells, your
ears must be burning.

Mr. Eigers' been bragging
about you and your dinner

and your new cookbook to
everyone who comes in the store.

Well, that's not the only
bragging that's going on, Tommy.

Your dad was telling me about your
college scholarship in creative writing.

Darn. I wanted
to tell you myself.

He's very proud.

I know. I applied
for it months ago.

I was afraid to tell him.

But when it came through, I think
he was happier about it than I was.

Well, I think it's delightful.

Oh, I almost forgot. Mrs.
Fletcher, my dad and I

would like to invite you to our
house for dinner next Friday night.

Well, thank you. That
would be very nice.

Great. Oh, and don't be too
disappointed if it's not great.

My dad, he picked out this heavy-duty
recipe that's sort of beyond his talents.

He's been practicing all week,
the kitchen's already a disaster area.

Susan, we know a little
about disaster areas, don't we?

Yes.