All language subtitles for [S01E02] Murder She Wrote Deadly Lady (1984)

Coast Guard's picking up distress signals
from some damn fools out there on a yacht.

I mean maybe... murder peculiar.

- On your wrist is the imprint where a watch used to be.
- I didn't steal it.

- We need action fast.
- I'm not holding any inquest
till we find that body.

- That just leaves Grace to get rid of.
- What are you saying?

And nothing you or anybody
else can do is going to change that.

- Your father's body washed up on shore early this morning.
- He can't be dead!

To tell you the truth, I don't think there's a one of us
that's sorry to see him dead.

Oh, please, three more
paragraphs and I can go to bed.

Thank you.

Jessica!

Jessica, you in there?

Oh, Ethan, you shouldn't
be out on a night like this.

I know that, woman.
You think I'm a nitwit?

Don't ask questions
that beg obvious answers.

I guess you're okay.
Leastways, there's nothin' wrong with your tongue.

Don't often see a hurricane this bad this far north.
A real deadly lady, this one.

I appreciate your concern,
but I've got plenty of candles and firewood,

and as soon as you get
outta here, I'm going to bed.

As long as you're in one piece,
I believe I'll go do the same thing.

Oh, Coast Guard's
picking up distress signals

from some damn fools
out there in a yacht.

In this storm?
You think they'll be all right?

Well, if they are, they are.
I can't get to 'em till it clears.

- Wouldn't you think people would
have more sense?
- Mm-hmm.

- Good night.
- Night.

- Morning, Nils.
- Morning, Jessica.

Good morning for the fish?

Oh, they'll be bitin', sure enough.
Always do after a storm.

- I didn't see Ethan's boat.
- Oh, he went out maybe an hour ago.

Helpin' some folks got stuck
last night out in the storm.

- Are they all right?
- Well, I couldn't say.

I lost radio contact.

Well, have him call me
when he gets back, will you?

Uh,... excuse me.

This is private property.

- You the lady of the house?
- Yeah, I live here.

Shame to let these weeds
get a toehold like this.

Too good a garden this to go to ruin.

Well, my marigolds
are hardly going to seed, Mr., uh...

Name's, uh, Ralph, ma'am.

I'm mighty hungry,
but I don't believe in takin' handouts.

Now, if you could spare me a good breakfast,
I'd be willing to work for it.

Admirable. But I'm not sure
what there is to do around here.

Window casements need paint.
The whole house, for that matter.

No offense intended,
but I believe in bein' direct.

Well, so do I.
Well, come on in the house and I'll fix you some eggs.

Eggs will be fine, soon as I finish with this.
Work first.

Yes, ma'am, I've been, uh, hoboin'
for about as long as I can remember.

But, uh, you must understand,
I am not a bum.

I work for what I get.

Hey, I read this story.

Good book.

You wrote this!

- I did.
- Mrs. Fletcher, you astound me.

Oh, Ralph.
You're not astounded at all.

As a matter of fact, you're full of clam dip.
Now sit down and eat.

Ma'am, you, uh, misjudge me.

No, sir, you misjudge me.

That book is a prepublication copy.
And it hasn't even been released yet.

Secondly, your clothes may be faded,
but they are exquisitely tailored.

And third,
the term is 'boin', not hoboin'.

And finally, on your wrist is the imprint
where a watch used to be.

Where have you
got it stashed, Ralph?

- I didn't steal it.
- I didn't think you did.

How do you take your coffee?

Just black.

Truth is, Mrs. Fletcher, I
have been bumming around.

But like you just guessed,
it hasn't been for long.

My, uh, company just
retired me after 42 years,

and gave me a small pension
and the, uh,... proverbial gold watch.

And all of a
sudden I realized...

there was a whole lot of this world
that I hadn't seen.

Now, I was faced with,
uh, two choices...

I could hop on a tour bus
with the rest of the fogies,

or I could see America
from the... ground up.

Mad?

Well, why should I be mad?
Like you said, Ralh,

there is a lot needing doing in this old place,
if you're interested.

Well, where do we start?

- Hello.
- Ms. Fletcher. Amos Tupper.

- Oh, good morning, Sheriff.
- I hate to be a bother to you, ma'am,

but, uh, Ethan Cragg
just towed in that yacht.

- Were those people all right?
- Well, they're fine. Yacht's got some damage.

Right now it's anchored
out past the point.

Ms. Fletcher, somethin' mighty peculiar
has happened down here...

- What do you mean by peculiar, Sheriff?
- I mean maybe... murder peculiar.

Murder?

Oh, dear. I'll be right down.

- Murder in this town?
- Ralph, I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to leave you.

Oh, I'll try to keep
busy outside, if you like.

I think that would be best.

Jessica, I told this old fool
you shouldn't be comin' down here.

Oh, Ethan, will you zip it up?
I'm conductin' official business.

And I'm tellin' you
there wasn't any murder.

Those nice little girls
couldn't murder anyone.

Especially their
own daddy. Ethan...

Will one of you adolescents
please tell me what's happened?

- Well, some ...
- Some rich fella named Stephen Earl. Sells some kind of makeup.

Yes, cosmetics.
Mark of Earl. I know it.

Yeah. Well,
it seems he was out sailin' with his four daughters.

That's
them right over there.

And last night,
during the storm...

Sheriff, why don't
you let the little ladies

tell it themselves
instead of you interruptin'?

- Good idea.
- Ladies.

Ladies, this is Ms. Fletcher,
a good friend of mine,

who from time to time I
like to look to for advice.

Now, suppose you tell her
just what happened out there on the boat last night.

Oh, Sheriff, mind your manners.
I have to meet everyone first.

Oh, sorry. This is Nancy Earl.

- Nan.
- Hello, Nan.

- Hello.
- Oh, that's lovely. Did you knit that yourself?

- No. But I designed it.
- Oh, it's delightful.

- Thank you.
- Maggie Earl.

- I read your latest book. It was a hoot.
- Well, thanks. It was a hoot to write.

- And this... this is, uh, Lisa Earl.
- Shelby.

- Shelby.
- Lisa Earl Shelby.

My husband has been notified.
He is on his way.

- Oh, how nice.
- And I'm Grace Earl Lamont.

My husband hasn't been notified.

As a matter of fact, he left four years ago,
and no one's heard from him since.

I wonder if we wouldn't
be more comfortable inside.

- We left Bridgeport four days ago.
- Just the four of you?

And Daddy. We'd been at sea
for three nights, Mrs. Fletcher.

And we knew there was a storm
approaching, but we thought surely...

that it would go back out to sea
before it came up this far north.

- Well, they usually do.
- Well, by the time we realized our mistake, it was too late.

The four of us were
huddled below deck,

and I think it was a
little past midnight.

We were about three miles
due east of Monhegan Island.

The boat was yawing very badly,

and we all suddenly realized at the same time
that Father was still topside.

- It was Lisa who got up there first.
- The wind was raging.

The rain was coming down in sheets.
I could barely see.

Just then... Just then
was when I got up there,

and I saw Lisa
going towards Father,

and all of a sudden...
a huge wave hit the side of the boat,

and he was
washed overboard instantly.

- It was horrible.
- I... I did my best.

I struggled to try to get to the rail to him,
but he was already gone.

It was already too late.
And by this time Maggie and Nan...

had also gotten up on deck,
and we all realized at once that it was hopeless.

Seems pretty
straightforward to me.

Yes. Apparently not to your sheriff.
What about you, Mrs. Fletcher?

- Uh, me?
- You see, I made the mistake of asking the sheriff...

how soon we could
expect a coroner's inquest.

- But he thought that was unseemly.
- Well, considering you four ladies...

are going to... share an estate
worth, what, several million dollars?

- Try a hundred million.
- Oh, oh, oh.

Well, my feeling is that there
are special circumstances here,

and before we go holding an inquest,
I want to see that body.

The way the tide is, the body should wash ashore tonight.
Tomorrow for sure.

Come on, girls. We've been as

cooperative as possible under the circumstances.

We'll take our
things from the boat.

Okay, Ms. Fletcher, what
do you think now, huh?

Well, I doubt any of them
will be wearing black very long.

I'm talkin' about foul play.

A hundred million dollars
is a whale of a motive.

Amos, you've been readin' too many of Jessica’s books.

Well, that's how much you know, Ethan.
I haven't read any of 'em.

Ladies, forgive me.
I'm forgetting my Yankee hospitality.

I've got a big house,
and there's just me.

I'd be delighted to have
you all as my guests.

- We've already made reservations at the local inn.
- Ah.

Thank you anyway.

Yes, it was very nice of you.

Oh, Captain Cragg, can you make a call,
see if you can get us a cab to the hotel?

- Yeah, I'll ring 'em up, Ms. Earl.
- I really must apologize for my sister, Mrs. Fletcher.

I'm afraid that tact was never really one of Lisa's virtues.

I'm sure you're all upset.

Actually, it's quite
to the contrary.

There really was very little love lost
between Stephen Earl and his daughters.

Why should there be?

He was the one who broke up my marriage.

And he was always
meddling in Nan's private life.

And he turned poor Maggie
into nothing but a dull hausfrau.

To tell you the truth,
I don't think there's a one of us that's sorry to see him dead.

Excuse me.

Ralph?

Hello? Oh, hello, Letitia.

What?

Paris? Are you su...
Well, how much?

- Mozart?
- Mm-hmm.

Food for the soul.

An empty head is almost
as bad as an empty belly.

I finished the weeding.

Not much else I could do
without supplies... paint, lumber.

You didn't by any chance call France for an estimate?

- What?
- The phone company just called with the charges for your Paris call.

Nine dollars and 97 cents.
Must've been a very short conversation.

No. That's Paris, Kentucky.
I've got a friend who's a horse breeder down there.

Don't worry.
I'll take care of the charges.

Is that before or after
the horse comes in?

Now, Mrs. Fletcher,
it's nothing like that.

- How's your latest murder?
- What?

Downtown.
The sheriff. Your phone call.

Oh, that wasn't a murder at all.
A man was swept overboard by the storm.

It was just an
unfortunate accident.

An accident? Really?
Someone local?

Ralph, supposing
you stifle your morbid curiosity.

You know, we've got some work on the agenda.

Sure enough. Come on. There's
something I want you to see.

Right over here.

You see, uh...
You see where the wood's started to rot?

It needs new paint and putty,

or come winter, you'll
be having bad drafts.

- Oh, we've already got 'em. Can you fix it?
- Mm-hmm. Yeah.

Gonna need about
10 or $15 for supplies.

Oh, it's a bargain.

Hmm...
I guess besides a good meal,

the thing I enjoy
most is a good pipe.

Your husband's?

Yes.

He had good taste.
Fine looking meerschaum.

Please, take it.

Oh, no. I... I couldn't do that.

Ralph, I want you to have it.

Better you should smoke it
than it should sit there gathering dust.

Naturally, I'm as upset as
anyone over the death of Mr. Earl.

- Yep.
- But even in our grief we have to face reality.

I mean the Mark of Earl could be thrown into a financial tailspin

if this whole thing is mishandled.

- We need action fast, Sheriff.
- What do you suggest?

An immediate coroner's inquest

so that the reins of leadership
can pass quickly on to his successor.

- Well, I can appreciate you've got some kind of a problem, Mr. Earl...
- Shelby.

Shelby... but I'm not holdin' any inquest
till we find that body.

What, are you out of your mind?
That body may never show up.

Maybe not.

I, uh, lost my wife years ago.

Many years ago. Hit me hard.

Well, for a long time I couldn't even talk about her.
Then it came to me.

By recognizing what
she... had been, what...

How much she had meant to me,

well, it... it was a way of keeping her alive in my heart.

That's a sweet thought, Ralph.
I'll remember it.

You have children?

Oh, no, no.

Frank and I were never blessed that way.

Blessed!

Well, with, uh, your permission,
I'd like to excuse myself.

- You're not leaving?
- Well, I've, uh, got a few things that need doing.

Maybe I'll be back later
this evening. It all depends.

Well, in case I'm asleep,
I'll leave the door unlatched.

No, ma'am.

Folks have a way of talking in a little town like this.

Well, good night.

Ethan, where are you?

Ethan?

Well, I'm where I'm supposed to be.
What are you doin' down here?

I came to get your
help and advice.

You came to get my help and advice?

Well, there's a first time for everything.

Well, I'll be a skinned lizard.
But how did you know?

Ethan, didn't it seem strange to you that those girls...

just happened to know their exact
location right in the middle of a storm?

I guess we'd better call the sheriff.

Mrs. Fletcher, the story that we told you is true.

No, Grace. I'm afraid not.

You see, you said that shortly after midnight
your father was swept overboard.

- Yes, that's right.
- And that you were three miles due east of Monhegan Island?

- Yes.
- Well, at that time and at that place,

your yacht would have been in the eye of the hurricane.

The sea would have
been dead calm.

- Well, they obviously had their position wrong.
- That's it. We were lost.

- Yes, we were just lost.
- No!

- Maggie, please don't.
- We were not lost!

And he was not swept overboard.

Mrs. Fletcher's right.

My father's death was no accident.

I killed him.

Suppose you, uh,... tell us exactly
how it happened, Miss Earl.

Dad didn't die last night.

It happened the night before.

We were alone on deck.

He was drunk,...
and we fought as usual.

I don't remember
what it was about...

My sisters,... money.

It doesn't really matter.

He could pick a fight over anything.

I had a gun in my purse.
I keep it for protection.

He came towards me.

I vaguely remember...

taking it out... and firing twice.

Then...

We were down below, when we heard the shots.

By the time we got up on deck, Father's body was gone.

There were splotches of blood everywhere,
and his pipe was still lying there, still warm.

Well, for God's sake, you can't blame her.

After everything she'd put up with.

All those years of taking his orders...

and sacrificing whatever kind of life she
might have been able to make for herself.

And for what?

I'm sorry, Miss Earl, but I'm gonna have to take you in.

Don't worry, Maggie. I'm calling New York.

We're gonna get you the best lawyer in the country.

Something's eatin' you, Jessie. I can tell the look.

It's... Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm crazy.

Evening, Ethan. Ms. Fletcher.

- What do ya got there, tomorrow's
paper?
- Right off the press.

Daughters staying
here at the inn and all,

figured there'd be a good demand, so I wanted to get 'em here early.

- Well, let's take a look.
- Be a quarter, Ethan.

For this? You got the wrong story, Bailey. Take a look, Jess.

Wrong? My facts are never wrong. I'm a professional.

Well, tonight you are a professional nincompoop.

- The man was shot to death. He wasn't drowned.
- What?

Jonathan, this photograph, are you sure that that is Stephen Earl?

Yeah, yeah. I took that photo off the jacket...

on a book they had
down at the library.

An old book?

Yeah, maybe 20 years out of print.

Greasepaint Millionaire. That's the title.

Fella's biography... all about how he started out as an actor,

and then he got himself into the makeup business almost by mistake.

- Ethan, let's go.
- Where are we goin'?

My place.

Be careful what you print about that, Mr. Professional.

Ralph, hello?

Ralph? Who the hell is Ralph?

Ralph?

Are you here?

Jessica?... What is going on here?

- Ralph?
- Jessica!

He was here, Ethan.
I know he was here.

- Who was here? Ralph?
- No, Stephen Earl.

- Stephen Earl? The dead fella?
- He's not dead.

- Of course he is!
- He's not dead.

- He was right here, Ethan.
- Stephen Earl?

No, Ralph. Except that Stephen
Earl and Ralph are the same person.

I talked to him. He polished off two plates of boiled scrod right there.

At least I... I think he was.

- That's more like it.
- That photograph really does not do him justice.

Still, he was an actor.

Ethan, I am convinced that he was right here.
He was just as alive as you or I.

Now, I don't know why those girls are lying,

but tomorrow I am going to find that man,

and I'm going to prove to you that I'm not dotty.

You are dotty!
Sometimes you spin around more in a circle...

than a Roman candle on the Fourth of July, like now!

But if you feel that strong, the least I can do is help you look.

Fetch, boy, fetch!

Go get it! Go get it!

Where is it, Mack?
Where is it?

Sorry to put you through this, ladies,
but I do need a positive identification.

No!

Ladies, forgive my presumption,

but if you've not yet firmed up your plans for final determination,

I stand ready to assist you in your hour of grief.

Save the sales pitch, Elias.
The county coroner will be by shortly...

to pick up the body for autopsy.

I'm sorry, ladies, but that's the law.

- Sheriff, the body, was it...
- Yes, ma'am.

Lisa, Nan, I am very sorry. Truly.

I can't believe it.

- Just a little while ago he was so full of life.
- He certainly was.

Well, come on, ladies.
We got paperwork to do.

Excuse me. Would you mind if
I went inside and paid my respects?

- But you didn't even know him.
- Well, somehow I feel that I did.

Terry?

Nan?

Oh, my, God. I don't believe it.

- A relative?
- No, but he sure would like to be.

I heard the news this morning in Kentucky
and flew right in.

- Nan, I'm so sorry.
- I know.

About a year ago he and Nan were engaged,
and he just walked out of her life.

Nan.

He sure picked the right
time to show up again.

Looks peaceful, don't he?

No, Mr. Cobb. He looks dead.

And I am very angry about it.

Tell me, how long would you say
that he was in the water?

In the, uh...
Really couldn't say.

But the coroner will be able to tell, I'm sure.

He better.

Maybe if you lost someone you'd be a little upset too.

Upset? Of course you're upset.
So am I.

But please, don't try and convince me
that you loved that old barracuda.

- He was my father!
- I know, I know.

And suddenly you are overwhelmed by these pangs of filial remorse?

- Very, very touching, sweetheart.
- You are disgusting!

And you're stupid!

What was... was this business about some storm accident,
lying for Maggie that... that way?

- She's my sister.
- She's also entitled to one-quarter of the estate.

Unless, of course, she is guilty.
And then she's out of the will,

and your share increases
by about eight or nine million.

- Did that ever occur to you, dear, sweet wife?
- No.

No. No.

Doesn't matter.

Maggie's eliminated.

Nan won't be a problem.

She's gonna be pursuing her designing career in New York.

That just leaves Grace to get rid of.

What are you saying?

Lisa, you don't think
that I meant...

Why, that's a morbid imagination
that burns...

in that fevered little mind of yours, isn't it?

I'm talking business, not murder.

Will you sit right here, Miss Earl, please?

Thank you, Emma.

- What is it, Sheriff? Is there any news?
- Yes, ma'am.

Oh, uh, Ms. Fletcher asked to be here.
I hope you have no objection.

Of course not. What's happening?

Well, I didn't wanna say anything
till we had positive identification,

but, uh, your father's body washed up on shore early this morning.

- What?
- Shot twice in the chest, just like you described.

No! That's impossible!
He can't be dead!

Well, now that's a mighty strange thing to say,

considering that only yesterday you confessed to killing him.

I might have confessed to killing him, Sheriff,
but I didn't kill him!

- What?
- I didn't kill him!

My story was a lie.

He left the yacht voluntarily, alive,

on an inflatable raft that he had hidden away before we set sail.

Oh, now, now, now, hold on, ma'am.

You better just slow down and start from the beginning.

It was all a scheme.

We had planned the whole thing out... the sailing trip...

Everything was organized to unmask a fortune hunter named Terry Jones.

Ah, yes.

- Your sister's former fiancé.
- The fella we met about an hour ago?

When Terry showed up over a year ago, Father had him checked out.

He was obviously only interested in Nan's money.

- So Father paid him off.
- A bribe?

Over a half a million dollars.

Dad set one condition.

Nan was not to know about the payment.

Then six months ago, Dad suffered a heart attack...

and became obsessed
with the idea...

that Terry would come back into Nan's life the minute he died.

I think I understand. You two cooked up this fake killing...

to draw your fortune-hunting friend out of the rock pile.

- Exactly.
- Now, just hold it!

I don't see any fake killing here.

Amos, be quiet. Let her talk.

I fired those shots long after Father left the yacht.

Father was supposed to be hiding out on shore,

waiting for Terry's appearance.

Then Dad would show up and prove to Nan just how lousy a guy he was.

Ladies, I've still got a dead body with two bullets in his chest.

Yes, and I'm also sure you have a dead body with a pipe in his pocket.

Well, as a matter of fact, I do, but how did you know that?

I gave it to Mr. Earl the night before last
when he was having dinner at my house.

- What? He was at your...
- I also believe, Sheriff,

that when the coroner examines the body he will discover two things...

One, that those two bullets were not fired from Maggie's gun,

and second, that the body has not been in the water
for anywhere close to three days.

If you don't mind, Ms. Fletcher,

I'll wait for the coroner to tell me all that.

Not at all.

Well, hello, Jessica. You looking for the sisters?

Well, no. Actually I'm looking for Mr. Terry Jones.
Is he staying here?

Yes, He's in Room 212.
But he's not here right now.

About 20 minutes ago, he and Miss Nan started heading out for the church.

Thank you, Madge.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.

You've been released!
I tried to call you to thank you.

Just as you predicted, the shots that killed Dad...

the coroner says came from a .32 caliber, not my gun.

Did he also tell you how long the body had been in the water?

He wasn't sure. But no longer than 12 hours.

And naturally we're all very relieved that Maggie has been cleared.

And so am I. Leaving us one small question to be resolved.

- Who really killed Stephen Earl?
- Mrs. Fletcher?

You know, you seem like a very sweet old gal, but this is a family affair.

We don't need strangers poking their noses where they don't belong.

I beg your pardon, Mr. Shelby, but Mr. Earl was no tranger.

Not to me. And as for my nose, it's right where it belongs.

Excuse me.

Nan, I've always loved you. You know that.

Is that why you
walked out on me?

I told you. Your father threatened to ruin me if I didn't stay away from you.

I'm sorry, Terry. I just find it very hard to believe.

Nan, right now we should be talkin' about one thing... marriage.

Because, believe me, I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.

- You sure about that?
- I'm positive.

Well, I'm happy for you.

But right now, Terry, I'm not sure about anything, least of all myself.

And if you'll excuse me, I need to be alone.

Hello.

- Mrs. Fletcher, isn't it?
- And you're Mr. Jones.

Yes. Now that the amenities are over,

let's talk about who killed Stephen Earl.

Sorry, I don't know the answer to that.

Outside the mortuary, you said you heard of the death of Stephen Earl...

this morning on the early news broadcast in Kentucky and flew right in?

In reality, you learned of his
death yesterday, around noon,

- from Stephen Earl himself.
- That's crazy.

Well, the telephone company says otherwise.

Well, suppose we let Sheriff Tupper decide.

- Good day, Mr. Jones.
- Wait!

I did get a call yesterday, from a newspaper reporter.

At least he said he was a reporter. Could have been the old man.

- He was quite an actor, you know.
- I know that.

He told me about the shooting aboard the yacht,

claimed he knew about my previous relationship with Nan Earl.

Wanted a comment. So I gave him one.
You're a lady, so I won't repeat it.

I am familiar with most Anglo-Saxon words, Mr. Jones.

- Then what?
- I flew here.

- Yesterday. Not this morning.
- That's right.

Look, before you get the wrong idea,
let me tell you what really happened, okay?

- That would be helpful.
- I flew into Portland last night.

To my total surprise, I found Nan waiting for me.

Maggie had told Nan about the old man's bizarre plot to trap me.

You see, Mrs. Fletcher, there are some people like Maggie...

who secretly believe in me.

Anyway, Nan and I spent the night together in a motel near the airport.

We wondered where she was.

Just before dawn this morning, Nan came back here to Cabot Cove.

I slept in. Around 11:00, I was getting ready to fly back to Kentucky...

when I heard the news of Stephen Earl's real death on the television.

- Naturally, I drove here immediately to be at Nan's side.
- Naturally.

Mrs. Fletcher, I know what you think, but you're wrong.

I love Nan deeply, and she loves me,

and very frankly, nothing you
or anybody else can do is going to change that.

- Emma, is the sheriff in?
- Nope.

- Could you tell me where I could find him?
- Could.

Not sure I should.

I know things are pretty casual in this town, Ms. Fletcher,

but there's times when I got to maintain strict confidentiality.

Sheriff's office. Elroy, where you been?

Sheriff's been looking for you for the past hour.

He's down to Cotter's Beach conductin' a search party.

Yeah, couple of hours ago
he got this anonymous note shoved in the mailbox.

Whoever wrote it said there were some funny

goings-on down there
last night about 10:00.

Ms. Fletcher, hold on now!

Amos, don't you think it's about time you called in the state police?

No need, Ethan. I'm on top of this.
I found the raft, didn't I?

And what else? Bunch of dead crabs, some rusty beer cans?

Way I figure it, that murder weapon's gotta be around here somewhere.

Sheriff!

- Oh, Lordy, help is on the way.
- Cheer up, Amos. You wanted volunteers.

Sheriff, what's all this I hear about a note?

- Evenin', Ethan.
- Afternoon, Jessica.

- You come to join the search?
- No, I've come to read the note.

Well, since you come all this way, you might as well read it.

I don't suppose you dusted this for fingerprints.

Not after Emma got through with it.

- Look, that's peanut butter, that's jelly.
- Lord knows what that is.

Sheriff.

What ya got there, Fred?

Found these kind of half-buried, up in the rocks by the hotel.

- Seem pretty new to me.
- Half-buried?

- Yes, ma'am.
- Well, the heel's missing on this one.

- You think it means somethin'?
- Couldn't say.

- What do you think... ?
- Ms. Fletcher!

- Jessica, what is it?
- Half-buried is the same as partially exposed, .... right?

Sure, but you onto somethin', Jess?

I thought so.

Well, I'll be. Smart work, ma'am.

No, nothing smart about it. It figures.

If you find a heelless shoe, the heel was bound to be somewhere.

Well, now all we have to do is to find out who these belong to.

There's no magic in that, Sheriff.

I'm quite positive that those shoes belong to Miss Nan Earl.

I don't understand this.

I'm sure they were here last night.

I never unpacked them actually.
I was going to wear them in New York.

Maybe I put them in the closet.

Would, uh,... these be them, Miss Earl?

- Yes, those are my shoes.
- You're sure?

Yes, I'm positive. I designed them myself, and I had them custom made.

- Where did you get them?
- Looks like you were right, Ms. Fletcher.

I'm sorry, ma'am. We found 'em down on the beach...

near where your father
was killed last night.

- I didn't kill my father, Sheriff.
- But those are your shoes.

- Yes. I told you, but...
- Nan, do me a favor. Try them on.

But I told you... they are mine.

Well, perhaps so, but humor me.

Sure.

Perfect fit.

I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm going to have to arrest you...

- for the murder of Stephen Earl.
- Oh, Sheriff.

For pity's sake, Nan's not guilty.

Oh, now, maybe not in one of your books,
but this is evidence enough for me.

Anyway, you're the one who told me right from the start
that they were her shoes.

Her shoes, yes. But I never said
she was guilty of murder.

Then again... Sheriff, maybe it would be a good idea
if you took Nan into custody.

Oh, well, now that's more like it.

One thing, however.

Will you both keep this evidence absolutely confidential?

Sheriff, what's goin' on?
I understand you got Nan locked up back there.

That's right. And come the morning, she'll be locked up in Portland.

- The charge is murder, Mr...
- Jones.

- Jones. Plain and simple.
- Well, plain and simple sounds more like you, Sheriff.

There is no way Nan could have killed her father last night

because she was with me...

from 7:30 until 4:00 in the morning in Portland.

- Yes, that's what Ms. Fletcher tells me.
- Yeah, and the murder occurred at 10:00.

Well, now I'm not
so sure about that.

You see, we got this note says it might have happened at 10:00,

but the coroner says it could've happened as early as 7:00, 7:30.

- Then she could have done it.
- That's ridiculous.

Course, maybe the two of you were in it together.

- Uh, now wait a minute.
- Portland desk clerk says you checked in around 9:00,

but no one saw either one of you after that.

Both of you could've come back, killed him,
and then gone back to the motel.

That's crazy, Sheriff. I never left Portland. I swear.

Look, uh, I can't believe Nan's guilty.

But if she is...
I mean, if she did kill him earlier and then came to meet me...

I wouldn't know anything about that.

Well, I hope not, because in this state,

being an accessory is about the same as being a killer.

Well, as long as you're here, I see no reason why you shouldn't see her.

Thanks, Sheriff, but I got business to take care of.

Well,...

did you hear that?

Yeah... I heard it.

What a night! What a night!

Nathan Hale, we have arrived!

- Brian, keep your voice down.
- They could've heard ya.

I hope so.
Come on. This a celebration.

Innkeeper, bring out your best champagne!

We just sent the lawyer packing back to New York,

and we are gonna party!

Oh! Mrs. Fletcher, have you come along to join the merriment,

or is this your regular Saturday night hangout?

Forgive us, Mrs. Fletcher.
We've been celebrating my exoneration.

Maggie, I'm sorry. You may be needing that lawyer after all.

- They've arrested Nan.
- What?

Arrested Nan? What? That's crazy.

What are you talking about?

Well, the sheriff discovered... a heel of a shoe
wedged into the rocks down by the beach.

Nan has already admitted that it was hers, but the shoes are missing.

You mean she broke off her heel
while she was out on the beach last night?

Very close to the spot where
her father was murdered.

Wait a minute. You found a heel but no shoes?

That's right. Look, this is very presumptuous, and probably quite insulting,

but I do know how sisters are.

I know how they trade off clothes and, well,

is it possible that one of you could have worn those shoes?

Yes, you are right, Mrs. Fletcher. That is very insulting.

Is it also possible that she could have made a mistake?

That the heel was not off her shoes?

What are you saying? You wanna search our rooms?

- Something like that.
- Well, you're not gonna search mine, lady.

Not without a search warrant and certainly not by you.

Come on, Brian. Let's go to bed.

Well, unlike my sister, Mrs. Fletcher, I haven't got anything to hide.

My room is just outside. Search away.

You're welcome to search my room afterwards.

But I'm afraid Nan and I wear different sizes, and I don't wear pink.

Maggie, I am so tired. I'm gonna sleep late tomorrow.

The sheriff will be over first thing. Would you give this to him for me?

- Sure.
- Thanks. Good night.

That wasn't very thoughtful.

Now I'll have to have that glass pane repaired.

- You were expecting me, weren't you?
- You know I was.

I wasn't sure.

But after I opened the
paper bag and found this,

I knew it was a message.

I slipped, didn't I?

Just before we entered Grace's
room you said you didn't wear pink.

And you never mentioned that the shoes were pink, did you?

No, I didn't.

If it makes you feel any better, I knew you were guilty before that.

- But how?
- Because everything pointed to an obvious frame to implicate Nan.

Not obvious. She could have done it.

She and Terry. No.

You see, those shoes also proved that Nan couldn't have killed her father.

It's rocky out there, Maggie. No place for bare feet.

If Nan had lost her shoes, she would have had to walk...

a couple of hundred yards along
a rocky path to leave the beach.

Now, back in her room,
when I asked Nan...

to try on her shoe, I knew it was hers,

but I wanted to see the bottom of her feet.

They were unblemished.

Now, once the frame was obvious,
it was also obvious who'd engineered it.

The one person who with sisterly affection had told Nan...

of Terry Jones's imminent arrival at Portland Airport,

to be sure that she had no alibi.

Under the guise of Cupid,

you were setting your sister up for a murder charge.

You're very clever, Mrs. Fletcher.

Merely logical. You're the clever one, Maggie.

Taking advantage of your father's plan,

actually confessing to shooting him,

knowing full well that the police investigation would exonerate you.

I hated him for what he did to me.

My whole life was spent...

catering to that man, Mrs. Fletcher.

Keeping the peace,

running his home,

and for what, love?

Appreciation?

The only one...

that got any real love was Nan.

And, yes, I hate her too.

He should have loved me.

I'm the one who gave him everything.

I'm sorry.

I like you.

I really do.

But... I have to protect myself.

Oh, my goodness. You're not threatening me, are you?

It will all look very natural.

You were home alone.

A defenseless widow.

A burglar came in.

You surprised him.

There was a struggle.

Maggie, really, for a clever woman,

you've devised a terrible scenario.

First of all, we have no burglars in Cabot Cove.

Secondly, and I suppose more to the point,

the minute I heard that back window shatter,

I called Sheriff Tupper.

He has been listening in to this entire conversation.

Sheriff, you better
get over here.

I have a young woman here who wants
to surrender herself into your custody.

I know how my sisters felt,

but my father really was a
decent man, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, yes. But don't forget, I knew him, only briefly.

But I think if you give love, that's what you get back.

Not always.

I feel so stupid.

Dad was right about Terry, and I should have realized it.

Why? I mean, Terry is a very clever young man.

Just pity the next one who gets him.

Thank you.

- And I'll write. I promise.
- Now you be sure to do that.

- Okay.
- Bye-bye.

Take care.

We just took those other three out to their yacht.

- That was nice of you to ferry them out, Ethan.
- Nothin' nice about it.

I was glad to get rid of 'em.

People like that deserve one another.

Uh, tide's up. Current's right.

Nils Andersen says the bass are probably runnin' out by the point.

- Is that an invitation?
- If you say so.

Oh-ho! What are you waiting for, you old grouch?

I'm gonna show you some of the finer points of deep-sea angling.

- Is that so?
- Yep.

I suppose that means you're gonna want me to bait your hook too.

Of course. You always do, don't you?