All language subtitles for Murder.She.Wrote.S09E15.The.Petrified.Florist.1080p.AMZN.DD2.0.x265.HEVC-Bearfish_track3_[eng]

[Jessica] Tonight, on Murder, She Wrote.

One thousand dollar bills for flowers?

Well, this is Beverly Hills,
Mrs. Fletcher.

-There is...
-[both] schlock gossip and quality gossip.

Damn it, Frances,
you told me

we had an absolute
lock on this thing.

We’ve got a leak.

Your prints
were on that envelope

because you were playing
bagman for someone.

Well,
wait a minute, Betty.

I mean,
I don’t sell gossip.

Which puts you there
at the time he was murdered.

My crime is one of vanity,
not murder, Mrs. Fletcher.

There is a certain
night nurse

who can vouch
for my whereabouts

and I can certainly
vouch for hers.

Gossip. It seems that no one
around here is immune to it.

Goodbye, J.B. Fletcher.

[woman] Kate, I told you
if we don’t have an exclusive

on that Kevin and Whitney
story, I am not interested.

And, Phil, I want you to bury
Marla and play up Frank.

George,
this new piece on Robin,

it’s a good start but...

it needs a whole
new take, it’s anal,

doesn’t begin
to show the-the pain,

the torment
behind the comic mask.

I want you to pull out
all the stops.

The sex, the booze,

the compulsiveness,
the whole deal.

Okay.
I’m sorry.

Listen,
I don’t usually

let my rookies
do their own rewrites.

Thanks.

But what about
corroborations?

Our sources
are really shaky.

Let me worry
about that, okay?

Go, go.

And I want it in my hand
by 6 o’clock tonight.

Those low rate schlock masters
have done it again. Damn it, Frances.

You told me we had
an absolutely lock on this thing.

-We did.
-Well, what is this,

the fourth time
this month?

I want you to kill
our story.

It’s too late,

unless you want to burn
two million copies.

She’s in a meeting
right now,

but if you’ll kindly
have a seat, Mrs. Fletcher,

-she will be with you.
-Thank you.

When I pay
for an exclusive,

I want it to stay that way

and I want you to call
a full staff meeting

by noon tomorrow,
and I mean everybody.

Junie, I’ve told you, either
our informants are playing

both sides
or we’ve got a leak.

Well, either way, darling,

I’m not laying out top dollar
for Mert Mandela

and his sleaze machine
to make us look foolish.

Jessica, how are you?

Oh, Frances,
it’s lovely to see you.

And you.

I’m sorry
I didn’t meet your plane,

but, as you can see, things
are pretty hectic here.

How was your flight?

Uneventful,
the best kind.

And your driver
met me with the most beautiful flowers.

I felt just like
a movie star.

Oh, you are
a sight for sore eyes, and I do mean sore.

The smog today
is horrendous.

Come with me
while I pop my lenses.

The price one pays
for vanity.

So when Junie Cobb
offered me this job,

it took me
ten seconds to decide

that my novel
would have to wait

while I got my
bills paid.

Mrs. Fletcher,
Gabriel Caceras, Beverly Hills PD,

you helped me out
on a murder case, remember?

Oh, yes, of course.

That was about
three years ago.

Lieutenant Caceras,
this is my friend Frances Hunt.

-How do you do?
-Oh, nice to meet you.

Listen, I saw your
new book on the stands.

Still knocking ’em
dead, huh?

Like you, lieutenant,

corpses just seem to be
part of my job description.

Now let me see,
you were about to get married.

Well, I tied the knot
two years ago.

She’s a dream.

Oh, how nice.

I’m delighted
to meet you.

Her? No,
she’s business.

Look, we got to run.
Give me a call, huh?

I have a pretty full schedule
this trip, maybe next time.

Okay, don’t forget.

I won’t.

[car phone rings]

Excuse me.

Hello?

Oh, yes, Betty.

Call Rodeo Caterers
and have them

send over four more servings

just to play it safe.

Right.
Thanks, Betty.

Okay, let’s go.

Thanks.

Two weeks ago,
I invited my boss

and her husband to a quiet little dinner
for your first night in town.

It’s now up to ten,
more or less, and still counting.

Well, at least I know
I’m not in Cabot Cove.

It was so sweet of you
to have me stay with you.

Are you kidding?

After all the times
I’ve camped at your place.

[doorbell rings]

Where have you been?

You’re supposed
to use the side door.

Oh.

I’m sorry,
I got kind of confused.

Well, as long as
you’re here, bring it in.

Thank you.

Wait a second.
Where is the wine?

Wine? Oh, no, these
are pages for A-List.

I’m one of
miss Hunt’s writers.

You?

Oh, my God,
I’m so embarrassed.

Don’t be.
I just started.

I can believe that.

[Frances] Who is at the door?

George,
you’re a dear.

George.

What are you doing
for dinner tonight?

I...

Nothing.

Gosh,
my mom will flip out

when I tell her
that I’m a last minute

dinner party replacement

for her favorite
soap opera star.

After only three weeks
in Hollywood,

I think he is
doing very well, don’t you, Mr. Henry?

-Oh, Stan,
-Mrs. Fletcher.

Malibu, right?

You’re the young man

that Wolfgang hired
to do all those great things

with the
shitake mushrooms.

No, miss Cobb,
I work for miss Hunt.

I’m at the magazine.

God, I met someone

who doesn’t call you
by their first name

ten seconds
after they meet you.

You should bottle him.

Canopies, anyone?

Yes, thank you.

Betty darling,

you always seem
to know about everything.

Who’s that gorgeous man
over there

talking to the woman
in the unfortunate dress?

Gee, Mrs. Cobb,

I thought
everyone knew him.

That’s Dr. Johnny Windhurst,
plastic surgeon to the stars.

And I mean stars,
he does them all.

Barbara,
Sally, Richard.

Isn’t she a treasure,
Mrs. Fletcher?

[laughter]

And I told her
when she started A-List.

I said, "Junie, there is...

[both] ...schlock gossip
and quality gossip."

And if you don’t want
Arnett’s money

to go straight down
the tubes,

you got to pay top dollar
for your information.

Exactly.

Now, I mean,
that’s the only way you can compete

with Starscene and those
super market tabloids

and avoid the lawsuits.

I mean, you have got
to spend it to make it,

that’s what I told her.

Aggie, she’s been
doing just that.

But lately,
it’s like Starscene

knows what we’re
covering before we do.

I can’t believe
they are in a position to outbid us.

Oh, hey,
thank you so much

for referring Carrol to me.

Couple of tucks and a nip
or two near her hairline,

she will be even more
irresistible than she is now.

As if that
were possible.

Unless, of course,
you could make her look like Michelle.

Well, I hope Mr. Mandela’s
Starscene crashes and burns.

And I hate to talk business,
Mrs. Fletcher,

but what happened
to our elusive football player?

Davie Wells?

We have
two corroborations,

but our lawyer says
we need a third.

Listen to them, J.J.

I’ll take my chances.

Pardon me, Junie,
but whose chances?

It seems to me
you have more problems

with gambling
than Roger.

Your work absolutely
fascinates me.

Well, thank you, doctor.

Yours fascinates me.

Oh, so as this guy
is climbing into his rolls Royce,

I tell him the house
is his for 4.8 million

and he says all
he can come up with is $3,000 down.

[laughter]

Mrs. Fletcher,
tell me the truth.

Where do you get
all those stories?

Well, it’s a bit
complicated, Mr. Cobb.

I mean,
those suspects and plots?

Surely, you can’t make
all of them up.

Oh, of course not. I mean, sometimes
they’re variations on real crimes.

For instance, I’m in town
to research a murder

that took place
65 years ago.

It’s always
fascinated me.

[man] I’ll give it
to her myself, all right?

Oh!

Frances darling,

to you and your guest,

my profound apologies.

Oh, Billy,
you’ve outdone yourself.

[Aggie] Oh, they are lovely.

They are just
simply gorgeous.

Nobody, but nobody, does
flowers like Billy Kyle.

And he’s only
three hours late.

Don’t ask me
about today.

Both delivery
trucks broke down,

my refrigerator died.

And just as soon I finished
your piece, my assistant quit.

Just walked off
into the sunset

and I still have
hours of work to do back at the store.

Oh, and there’s
no charge, of course.

Ah, in that case,
I may forgive you.

Sunday 10 a.m., Billy.

[Billy] Count on it,
Mrs. Cobb.

Have you been
to his new shop?

No, I haven’t,
but I hear it’s wonderful.

Okay,
Mrs. Fletcher, now--

Nobody does flowers
like Billy Kyle.

George,
give Jessica a break.

She’s got to be--

Whose changes?

It sounds to me like

you have a bigger gambling
problem than Roger.

And I told you that.

Where do you get
all these stories?

I mean, you can’t
make all of them up.

Oh, forgive me.

I guess it is getting
to me after all.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher,
you have my sympathy.

It’s after midnight
Cabot Cove time.

Good night,
everyone.

Oh, good night, Jess.

Can you get in touch
with Sorentini, sergeant?

[man] Just tell your husband.

Mrs. Fletcher,
on behalf of my beat, welcome.

Lieutenant,
what’s wrong?

What else, homicide,
the proprietor.

Billy Kyle?

You knew him?

Well, no,
not really.

But, lieutenant,
I may have been

one of the last people
to see him alive.

When the delivery kid
opened this morning,

he found
Billy Kyle’s body.

There you go,
lieutenant.

Yeah, thanks.

Stabbed with these shears,

they’re probably his own,
the blood traces.

It’s likely
they were lying

out there on the counter,
you know.

-Weapon of opportunity.
-Yeah.

You know, it looks
as if the victim surprised

the perp in the middle
of a burglary.

I mean, the kid found
the cash drawer open, empty.

What time
did you see the victim?

[Jessica] About 10 p.m.

And what do we got here?

Oh, you don’t see
many of these around.

Five thousand.

See, professional thieves
know to look under the drawer

for the larger
denominations.

What am I saying?

Most shoppers know
the big bucks go below.

But $1,000 bills,
for flowers?

Well, this is Beverly Hills,
Mrs. Fletcher.

I mean, it could
have been for a function

or married man,
cash, standing order.

I mean, the price of
long stem roses these days,

those bucks
wouldn’t go all that far.

If someone had
broken in here

and was surprised
by Mr. Kyle,

I wonder why his
burglar alarm didn’t go off.

Oh, we checked
with Rexford.

The alarm works.

Oh, and one of
their guards drove past

and saw the victim
working here,

it was around...
around midnight.

Do you get the feeling

that he must
have known his assailant?

His assistant.

Well, Mr. Kyle said that
he’d quit.

That he walked off
into the sunset, was the way he put it.

Oh, hey. Maybe
the man returns later,

Billy lets him in,
they quarrel.

Or the guy
still has his key

and comes back to collect
some midnight severance pay.

Billy catches him.

I’ll get his name
from the clerk.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher, the other
guests at the dinner party.

How is your memory
for names?

Billy Kyle.

Outstanding!

I don’t know
what I’ll do without him.

My party on Sunday is gonna be
an absolute disaster.

Okay, besides his broken
delivery vans,

his non-functional
refrigerator

and his assistant
taking a hike,

did Mr. Kyle indicate
any other problems?

I mean, you know,
something more serious?

To Billy everything
was serious.

Would you mind
expanding on that?

You had to know
Billy, lieutenant.

He lived
from crisis to crisis.

If it wasn’t
brown spots on his orchids,

he was being horrified

by some
new facial wrinkle or

having the worst
hair day of his life.

Uh-huh.

Okay.

And you were
at home

with your husband
midnight and 3 a.m.,

is that right?

Arnett and I went directly
home after Frances’ party.

About 11.30--
11.15, wasn’t it?

Yes.
About then.

Okay.

Miss Hunt,
according to Mrs. Fletcher

she was occupying
the bedroom next to yours.

Yes.

She was asleep
when I went to bed about

ten minutes
after the guests left.

Which would
put around 11.30?

Yes.
But I doubt she heard me.

She was really
out of it.

So she said. Okay.

Mr. Erwin,
your turn.

Till about five past 12
I was in my car,

driving, I live
down in Venice.

And then after that,
I was in bed, asleep.

By yourself?

Yes, sir.

Well, so far there isn’t
an airtight alibi in the whole lot of you.

Well, except for
that realtor Stan Hendricks

who was showing
a fixer upper in Benedict Canyon.

From midnight to 3.00?

Not only that,
he made the sale.

So how is
the research going?

Oh, it’s fascinating.

This silent movie director
was murdered

almost 65 years ago

and suddenly all sorts of
secrets are coming to light,

blackmail, cultism.

I may have enough material
for two books.

Jessica, lieutenant Caceras
seems to confide in you.

Well, I worked with him
on a case once

and he’s a very
capable individual.

Has he told you anything
more about Billy’s death?

Only that his department
finally caught up

with Mr. Kyle’s assistant,

the one who quit
so abruptly last evening.

Then he is the killer.

No, no,
he walked out at 6.00

and was on a flight
to Seattle by 9.00.

He has an airtight
airborne alibi.

[phone rings]

Oh, excuse me.

Hello?

Oh, yes, Kate,
read me the copy.

So, the senator was seen
having dinner with Marlow. Well...

you’re sure they went up
to the suite after dinner?

...and champagne
up to the room at 3 a.m.

She was seen leaving
in his limo around 6 a.m.

Ah, the waiter,
housekeeping,

and the valet
all support the story.

Good, I like it.

It’s perfect.

Run it with a big picture
of the senator,

the one
where he is leering.

Right.

Oh, you’d think there
was some law on the books

requiring legislators
to cheat on their wives.

You’re thinking,
where is the law that says

that I have
to expose the senator?

Frances,
you’re the last person

I ever expected
to find driving around

in a stretch limo equipped
with a telephone and a fax.

It’s called success.

The fast lane, fast money.

I don’t mind the long hours
and the deadlines,

and sometimes
shedding light on

some superstar
or media type

isn’t the worst thing
in the world.

I’ve promised myself that

after I put
aside enough money

I will go back
to writing my novels.

I hope you do, Frances.

You have
a great deal of talent.

Star maps.

Maps to the stars' home,
right here.

It appears that Mr. Kyle
inadvertently left it

at Frances Hunt’s house
the night of the murder.

Yeah, but these
initials and notations,

I mean, they make
sense to you?

Well, I asked Frances
and she suggested

that they could be the initials
of some of the celebrities

reported
on the A-List magazine.

Yeah, for instance?

Well,
she mentioned that

D.W. might be
a Davey Wells.

What, the whiz kid
quarterback?

Oh, she--
You know, L.A.

would be in contention
for the playoffs if he was healthy.

For months now
they’ve been claiming

he’s got this mild
aggravation of an old injury.

Oh, who knows.

But you know,
now these seem

to be street names
or locations.

You see, Davey Wells, Fairgate Clinic?
These dollar amounts. it's...

I know. They’re
far too small to buy

even a bunch of baby’s breath
in Mr. Kyle’s shop.

So where do
we go with this?

Well,
it occurred to me

that with all
of Mr. Kyle’s access

to the people covered
by the gossip magazines,

he may have been one of their suppliers
or a paid informant.

Okay, but I mean $5, $7?

Oh, lieutenant, you know
how big time gamblers

sometimes refer to
say $5,000 as $5.

Hey, you know,
why not?

I mean, it would sure explain
away those $1,000 bills,

not to mention giving us
a dandy motive of murder.

Billy Kyle
digs into dirt

somebody doesn’t
want uncovered,

somebody like
Mr. Wells or--

[phone rings]

Can you believe
I got one of these things?

Caceras.

Yeah.

Got it.

All right, well,
let the captain know.

Right.
Thanks, Tori.

That was the lab.

They just IDd
the only unsmudged prints

on that envelope
we found,

the one
with the big bills in it.

It belonged to
George Erwin.

That nice young man?

The one
without an alibi.

You know,
as a teenager,

he spent some time
in juvenile hall.

Lieutenant, I never
even met Mr. Kyle

before
miss Hunt’s party.

I mean, I’m pretty
new around here.

He’s telling the truth,
lieutenant.

Now can we
go to dinner?

Oh, when you got a whiff
of the kind of

clientele
Mr. Kyle handled,

you figured he kept
big bucks in his drawer.

Lieutenant Caceras--

So you stab him,
rifle his cash drawer--

Lieutenant, why would
he pick up an envelope

with all that money in it
and then leave it behind?

Any number of reasons,
miss O’Hara.

I mean, somebody walks
past the store, he panics.

It’s not like he’s the most
competent thief in town.

Last time he tried it
that we know of,

he got caught before
he got out of the store.

George?

There is one other
possibility, Mr. Erwin,

one that your friend
Mrs. Fletcher suggested.

Your prints
were on that envelope

because you were playing
bagman for someone.

He was delivering payoffs?

Well, I’m beginning
to think

Mrs. Fletcher is even
smarter than I thought she was.

Want to tell me
about it, Mr. Erwin?

Would you rather I take you
downtown and book you?

I just go to accounting
and pick up those envelopes

after the payments have
already been authorized.

By whom?

Do I have to?

With that juvenile record

I was having
a pretty tough time

getting hired,
until one of the executives

spoke up on my behalf.

Who is it, George?

Oh, Johnny,
it’s Betty’s night off

and I didn’t do
anything about dinner.

Let’s keep it
that way.

[doorbell rings]

Go.

Miss Hunt,
I’d like to talk to you.

Oh, come on, lieutenant,
can’t this wait till morning?

I’m afraid not.

New evidence
has come up, miss Hunt,

and inconvenient as it may be,
I’d like you to accompany me

downtown to make
a formal statement.

But I’ve told you everything
I know, little as it is.

I’m sure you’d rather
come voluntarily.

The alternative being
arrest, I suppose?

Shall we go then,
miss Hunt?

Oh, my God.

I didn’t kill anybody.
Really, I didn’t.

So to review your sworn
statement, miss Hunt,

and there is nothing

you wish to change,
is that correct?

No, nothing.

You misspelled Windhurst,
there’s a D in it.

May I go now?

Just
bear with me.

Let’s see, the last of your
guests, caterers,

and your housekeeper
Betty O'Hara,

they all left
your dinner party by 11.30?

Yes, except
for Jessica Fletcher,

who was asleep.

And I turned in about 12.00.

You remained in the house
for the rest of the night?

Yes.

Okay.

There is--
Oh, thanks, Brandon.

So you’re saying
under oath

that I can’t place you

at Billy Kyle’s shop
between midnight and 3.00 a.m.?

No, lieutenant,
you can’t.

Please don’t
look at me like that.

You’re lying.

We found this
self service gas station

receipt on the floor
of your car.

A station one block
from Billy Kyle’s place.

The printout shows
you gassed up at 1.35 a.m.

that morning,
which puts you there

at the time
he was murdered.

Now people have gone
to the gas chamber

for far less than that,
miss Hunt.

Oh, good Lord.

Very well.

That part is true,
I did see Billy,

but I didn’t murder him.

What, it’s a habit of yours?

Rendezvousing
with your florist at 1:35 in the morning?

Well, now you’re
making it sound sordid.

Certain payments went
to Billy on a regular basis.

Tips that were developed

into features
for the magazine.

I was behind $5,000

and he was
getting nasty about it.

So when he said
he was working late and alone,

I thought this would be
a good opportunity.

Before George Erwin
left the party,

I got the envelope
back from him.

So why didn’t you tell me
all this in the first place?

Lieutenant, my job is
a lot like being a spy.

People reveal things,
secrets to my informants.

Things they would
never say

if they knew that
I were the final recipient.

I paid Billy.

I left him alive
on my oath.

That is the truth.

Your oath has proved
unserviceable, miss Hunt.

I’m gonna have to hold you
on investigation of murder.

George,
this is not your fault.

[Jessica] Betty is right.

I mean, the truth about
Billy Kyle and the payments

and Frances’
visit to his shop,

it all would have
come up

whether or not
you said a word.

She’s just been
such a good friend to me.

Do you think she did it,
miss Fletcher?

Of course
she doesn’t.

Well, I’m tempted to say
that Frances isn’t the type,

but I’ve seen
too many exceptions.

And when it’s a friend

it’s sometimes
difficult to separate

what you want to believe

from the reality
of the situation.

But what this really
is all about, is motive

and I’m just not convinced

that lieutenant Caceras’
theory is valid.

A crime of passion,
towards a jerk like Billy?

Mild aggravation, maybe.

Yeah.

Well, I better
get over to the office.

[Betty] Well, you sure
you’re okay?

[George] Yeah, yeah.

Miss Fletcher,
Betty, thanks a lot.

I really appreciate
this--

George, I wonder if I could
ask you to give me a lift.

Of course,
come on, miss Fletcher.

Thank you, Betty.

See you tonight.

Absolutely.

[Jessica] Excuse me.

I wonder
if you could help me.

Would you be
kind enough to tell me

where Davey Wells’
room is?

I’m sorry, honey,

Davey’s not receiving
visitors this morning.

Oh.

Well, he must have
forgotten to tell you.

Oh, yes.

You mean about
you and him

talking on the phone
this morning

and his promising to leave
your name at the desk.

Well, yes,
as a matter of fact, he--

Aren’t you a little mature
for this kind of thing, hon?

I beg your pardon.

All the locker room groupies
in town have been in here.

They tried
every trick in the book

to try to get
to see golden arm Davey.

I got to say yours
isn’t the most original.

Excuse me, hon.

Fairgate Clinic,
nurse Tickle.

Okay.

[knock on door]

Hi, there.

Some autographs
for the floor nurses,

a couple for yourself
and the other volunteers.

Oh, how lovely.

All the ladies
will be thrilled.

I read about you this morning
in the newspaper.

Are you really hanging
them up like it said?

Well, after nine years
and 300 pound

linemen eyeing you
like dinner,

throw in
two torn rotator cuffs

and three
knee operations,

yeah, I’m ready.
It’s my last year.

Oh, those must
have been lovely.

From Billy Kyle’s
shop I see.

What makes
a week old Billy Kyle

basket more important
than the other?

He was murdered
the other night.

As I’m quite sure
you’re aware.

Look, lady, I don’t know
who the hell you are,

but you’re no volunteer.

Actually no,
I’m a writer.

My name is
J.B. Fletcher.

Oh, you’re with
A-List, aren’t you?

Didn’t anybody tell you
I’m suing that rag

for what
they wrote about me?

Well, yes,
I did read it in the paper,

but no, I am not
with the A-List

and thirdly,
a very dear friend of mine

is being held
for the murder of Billy Kyle,

unjustly, I suggest.

Your leg, no cast,
no crutch, Mr. Wells?

I told you,
I’m through.

Next time one of those
grillers blind sides me, could be my last.

Six years now
I’ve been playing in pain

and lots of it,
do they care?

Under my contract, team says
if it ain’t broke, shoot it full of

novocaine
and play ball.

Well,
there’s a middle ground,

a place where
they can’t get me

and I found it
here at Fairgate.

I take it the clinic
goes along with your charade.

They ain’t cheap.

But not unaffordable.

A young friend of mine
explained to me

that as long as you’re
merely on the injured list

you’re paid
for the balance of the year.

I also read about you
and a possible

$7 million
TV announcer contract?

Look, lady,
what is this you want?

You think I murdered Kyle
because he sold me out to A-List?

It might have crossed
your mind to get even with him?

Maybe it did.
But let me ask you.

If I’m found running around at night
bumping off florists,

wouldn’t I lose
both contracts?

Besides,
there’s a certain night nurse

who can vouch
for my whereabouts.

And I can certainly
vouch for hers.

Dr. Windhurst?

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher,

I’ll visit the patient
in the recovery room.

Do you have patients here,
Dr. Windhurst?

-I operate here.
-Oh.

See, I feel that
high profile clients

should be allowed
to have their profiles

retooled in private.

Of course,
you’ve heard about Frances.

Oh, yes.

I happen to know
she’s a very passionate woman,

but I never believed
her capable of murder.

[pager beeping]

Oh, sorry.

Playing my song.
Excuse me.

[woman on PA] For legal services,
please contact O-B-G-Y-N...

Hmm,
a regular doctor Pygmalion,

he works his way through
all the new nurses

in the building and most
of his lady patients too

if they qualify, which means
if they got a pulse.

[phone rings]

Excuse me, hon.

Third floor.

Yes, I’ll get the message
to Dr. Windhurst.

Yes, hon.

Oh, you’d like
an appointment?

May I ask
if this is a referral?

J.J. Just say J.J.?
Very well.

Frances is one of my oldest
and closest friends, Mrs. Fletcher.

I’d do anything
to help her.

I’m glad to hear
you say that, Mrs. Cobb.

You see Frances has trapped
herself in needless lies.

And to help her
out of her trouble,

I think that
we all need to pay

scrupulous attention
to the truth.

I’m not sure
I see your point.

Well, at Frances’
dinner party I recall

your greeting Dr. Windhurst
as if you never met,

but at the Fairgate Clinic
just a little while ago,

I happened to hear
a prospective patient of his

give your name as referral,
or rather your initials.

I remember
that your husband called you

J.J. at Frances’ party.

Oh, why would I recommend
a doctor I barely heard off?

Everyone seems to be avoiding
the truth about something.

Frances, George,
now you and Dr. Windhurst.

I mean, none of this
is helpful to Frances.

Mrs. Fletcher, I’m a product
of where and how I live.

Dr. Windhurst’s magic touch
has made me look younger.

That and my workouts
with Eduardo.

I don’t choose
to look my age,

whatever the damn number,
and it’s my business

that I don’t share
with every stranger

and subordinate at
a dinner party my familiarity

with the best cosmetic
surgeon in Beverly Hills,

and I compliment Dr. Windhurst
on his discretion that night.

My... my crime is one of vanity,
not murder, Mrs. Fletcher.

You’re looking
in the wrong place.

I’m beginning
to realize that.

Now tell me,
the other day

you and Frances
seemed quite upset

because you’d been scooped
by a competing magazine.

We have a leak.

Starscene has turned me
into a harridan

and Frances
into a nervous wreck.

I think the poor darling chewed
through her glasses the other night.

Does Starscene
publish in LA?

You’ll find them
in the yellow pages under R for rock.

Just look under
the nearest one.

You’re Betty O'Hara.

What are you doing here,
Mrs. Fletcher?

So you were behind A-List
being scooped by Starscene ?

The Irish Mata Hari,
that’s me.

Listen, Mrs. Fletcher, making ends meet
in LA is no day at the beach.

Starscene found out
from my employment agency

that I’m Frances’ housekeeper
and that I moonlight for Mrs. Cobb.

They pay me to brief them
on A-List’s stories.

Uh-huh. So picking up
phone messages,

listening to idle chit chat
at the dinner table?

You got it.

My little
five bills a week

saves Starscene
a major bundle.

And it really
isn’t costing A-List,

I mean, since I started,
their circulation’s gone up.

But hey, in the circles you
travel, the inside stuff

you’ve got must
bring in thousands.

Well, now,
wait a minute, Betty.

I mean,
I don’t sell gossip.

Well, hey, come on.
You were at their offices, weren’t you?

Really, your secret is safe
with me, don’t worry.

Betty, is it possible
that Starscene

had the same arrangement
with Billy Kyle

similar to the one
he had with the A-List ?

Sort of like
a double agent?

Maybe.

I don’t believe that
they killed Billy to end it,

if that’s what
you’re thinking.

And if you’re wondering
if I had an extra grind,

Billy and I were kindred souls,
not mortal enemies.

I’m going to pick up
George at A-List.

We’re going to dinner.
Can I give you a lift?

Well, would the Beverly Hills
police Department

be out of your way?

Hey, if I happen
to see them book

some big movie star
on a DUI,

it will pay
for the gas, hop in.

And if I did that,

I’d break your arm.

Oh, hi,
miss Fletcher.

The lieutenant has told me
about you Mrs. Caceras.

Oh, no, no,
wrong again, Mrs. Fletcher.

This here is sergeant Daisy Kenny,
undercover squad.

She’s just
teaching me a move

she’s found very effective
with muggers.

Oh,
that’s very impressive.

You know, you look
very familiar to me.

Have we ever
met before?

Maybe on Moments Of Our Years,
I did a walk on.

She’s also
an aspiring actress.

Yes, and
I’m gonna be doing

The Prime Of Miss Jean Brody
in a workshop

this weekend
and I play the lead.

See?
The spinstery school teacher.

The glasses. Acting is really
what undercover work

is all about,
isn’t it, sergeant?

I think I have
another part for you.

Uh-oh. This is deja vu,
Mrs. Fletcher,

you’re pushing
all the old buttons.

Now you’re
onto something right?

Are you willing to try
a long shot, lieutenant?

That depends.

There are apartments
across the street

from Billy Kyle’s
flower shop.

Now suppose
an occupant of one of them

was at her window on the night
that Billy was murdered.

She would have seen
the killer come and go.

We checked those apartments,
nobody saw anything.

Wait a minute.

You mean--

How do you want me
to play it, miss Fletcher?

I can do sexy, hottie,
virginal, nervous.

Hold it, hold it,
hold it, hold it.

How do we
get the word out?

Gossip, lieutenant.

It seems no one around here
is immune to it

and there’s
a certain young lady

that I know
who is definitely contagious.

May I use your phone?

[phone rings]

Hunt residence.

Betty?

This is Jessica Fletcher.

Listen, you were
kind enough to give me

a lift this afternoon

so this is my way
of returning the favor.

I’ve run across an item

that I think
you’ll be interested in,

only this one will be
worth considerably

more to A-List
than to Starscene.

Go on, Mrs. Fletcher.

What is it, Betty?

Junie, I have a great piece
of gossip for A-List magazine.

I’m all ears.

I got it from a spy
that I have in

the Beverly Hills
police department.

They’ve located
an eyewitness

who read about
Billy Kyle’s murder

in the paper
and has come forward.

It was a maid working late
in an apartment

across the street
from the florist.

She’s ready
to look at a line up.

And you have
her name and address?

Mm-hmm.

[knock on door]

-Miss Kenny?
-Yes.

I understand you witnessed
something that occurred

across the street
three nights ago and--

The police swore they would
keep my name out of this.

No, no, now, miss Kenny,
I’m not here to harm you.

We have precious
little time, now look.

That’s $250,000
and it’s all yours

if you just disappear.

There’s a flight
to Rio at 10 ’o clock

we can just
get you on it.

My, my word. You certainly know
how to pull a girl’s chain.

That-that’s ten years salary.

Okay, you won’t
even have to pack.

We’ll get whatever
you need at the airport.

It has to be now,
miss Kenny.

Just let me
get my bag.

Oh, here.
Let me give you a hand.

Oh!

Maybe you better do
some explaining, miss Kenny.

Let me do it
for her, Mr. Cobb.

Put the gun down, please.

Sergeant.

All right.

I killed Billy Kyle.

Mr. Cobb, bribing this
policewoman is one thing,

but killing Mr. Kyle?

Why don’t you tell
the lieutenant

what you do know about
the events that night.

Junie and I went
to bed at midnight.

I woke up
around 1.30 and--

-Stop right there, Arnett.
-Junie.

And stop picking up on other
people’s phone calls.

And for heaven’s sake,
zip your lip

before you get us
both indicted for a murder

neither of us committed.

A clever ruse,
lieutenant,

luring me here
on the pretext of a new story.

If I had to guess I--
I’d credit the idea

to Mrs. Fletcher’s
fertile imagination.

Arnett is here

because he believes
I may have killed Billy Kyle.

Natural assumption since
we went to bed at midnight

as he said, and when
he woke up around 1.30,

I wasn’t in the bed
or in the house.

Naturally, he worried
until I returned safely at 2.00.

I was restless,
I went for a walk.

The next morning
the radio said

that Mr. Kyle
was murdered so--

Before we knew it,
lieutenant Caceras

was asking questions.

It was
all a little unsettling

and a little too close
to home, wasn’t it?

So if you folks
will excuse us

I think Arnett and I
will wind our way home.

And, darling,
if you’re committed to

throwing that quarter
of a million dollars around

I would love
to redecorate the house.

[Jessica] Just a minute,
Mrs. Cobb.

I’m not sure
I have all the pieces,

but I do think
that you killed Billy Kyle.

Rewriting the last act,
are we, Mrs. Fletcher?

When you told me
that Frances

was so upset
she chewed her glasses,

it made sense
because I’d seen her do it too.

Then I remembered
she told me

she only wore her glasses
in private,

never at the office,

nor as I recalled
at her dinner party.

The only other time
that you could have seen her wear them

was after you
left the party,

later that night
across the street in Billy Kyle’s shop.

Look, I’ve heard
enough of this.

As much as
it pains me to say so,

Frances went to
Billy’s shop,

he buzzed her
and then she killed him.

Let’s go, Arnett.

No, Junie.

Go on,
Mrs. Fletcher.

At Frances’ dinner party
you indicated

that you’d never been
in Billy Kyle’s shop.

And yet you just said

that Billy must have
buzzed Frances in.

Now that
wasn’t the case,

was it,
lieutenant Caceras?

No way.

Miss Hunt said that
when she got to the shop

the door was unlocked,

but when the delivery boy
arrived the next morning

the doors
were locked.

It had to have been
after Frances left

and Billy locked his doors that
anybody had to be buzzed in.

And that anybody
was you, Mrs. Cobb.

That’s how you knew
about the buzzer system.

Lieutenant?

Where’d you find it?

In a trash bin
behind their house.

Is that your raincoat,
Mrs. Cobb?

If these blood stains
match Billy’s...

Why, Junie?

You were in Africa
for three months last year.

Just enough time
for me to go see

the fabled John Windhurst
for a few adjustments.

How could I expect you
to understand, Arnett?

John was so handsome,
so available.

He made the years vanish

from my face
and from my heart.

I sent him flowers
from Billy Kyle.

Billy put
two and two together,

had some paparazzi chums
take pictures of John and me

in the doctor’s bedroom.

And you were afraid
those pictures

would destroy
your marriage

and Mr. Cobb would withdraw
his support for A-List.

I saw my life in ruins.

Billy wanted $50,000
for the negatives.

The night of Frances’ party
was the night

I’d agreed
to pay him for them,

unaware that Frances
would also be in the shop.

[Jessica] And that’s where you saw Frances
chewing her glasses.

I saw Frances give him
one of our envelopes.

I assumed
she was paying for a story.

Once she left,
I rang the bell

and he let me in.

[bell rings]

Mrs. Cobb,
what a pleasant surprise.

I can’t get you
$50,000 in cash

without
my husband’s signature.

I’ve been able to raise
ten for now.

What is this?

One call to Mandela
over at Starscene

and I’ll get double
what I’m asking from you.

Billy,
give me some time.

Oh, shame,
a classy operation

like A-List
has to go under the toilet

and a fortune hunter like you
has to lose a rich husband

but it is tough
all over.

I can get you
some small amounts

from petty cash
for tips on stories.

Even if you don’t have
the stories, you understand?

Get out of here.

Shops closed, Mrs. Cobb
and I got to make a phone call.

Hello.

Yeah,
I know you’re closed.

Patch me through
to Mert Mandela at home.

Yeah,
I know how late it is.

So that’s the way it was.

Darling, nothing would have
spoiled my love for you.

I would have
understood, forgiven.

Do me a favor, Arnett,

don’t always be
such an old fool.

Junie Cobb,
I’m arresting you

for the murder
for William Kyle.

You have the right
to remain silent.

You’re not arresting
anyone, lieutenant.

It would have worked if you
hadn’t stuck your nose in it.

Good bye, J.B. Fletcher.

I’m sorry, Frances.

That was very clumsy of me.

Don’t worry about it,
Betty.

Oh, Jessica,

you look like you were
a million miles away.

I guess the jetlag
is getting to me after all.

And to answer
your question, George.

I’d have to say that
most of my mysteries

are built around
people and events

that I encounter every day.

I mean, events
like this dinner for instance.

Oh, there it is.

My receipt book.

Sorry to bother you again.

Now tell us,
Mrs. Fletcher,

where do your characters
comes from?

J.J., if you’d listen,
Mrs. Fletcher says

she draws them from people
she meets every day.

Come on now, Jessica.

In your next book,
make my wife a killer.

I think I just did.

Good.