All language subtitles for The Golden Girls - 07x02 - The Case of the Libertine Belle

♪ Thank you for being a friend

♪ Traveled down the road
and back again

♪ Your heart is true

♪ You're a pal and a confidant

♪ And if you threw a party

♪ Invited everyone you knew

♪ You would see

♪ The biggest gift
would be from me

♪ And the card attached
would say

♪ Thank you
for being a friend ♪

Oh, morning, Ma.
How'd you sleep?

Pretty good.

I dreamed I was making love
to Jay Leno.

That's a strange dream
for you to have.

Not really.

It was Monday night, and he
was filling in for Carson.

Mornin', all.

Oh, Blanche, honey,
how was your date last night?

Oh, unforgettable.

Mel Bushman and I
were coming back

from a champagne picnic
at Sunset Beach.

We ran out of gas
in the middle of nowhere.

Oh, my goodness!
What did you do?

You name it.

Blanche, you got
a call last night

from something called
the Maltese Falcon Club.

Oh, good.

Remember I was asked
to select the activity

for the museum staff's
annual outing?

Yesterday, I signed us up
for a murder-mystery weekend

at the Queen of the Keys Hotel.

You mean, the kind of thing where
mock murders are committed

and then the guests
try to solve them?

Exactly.

Mmm-hmm.That sounds like fun.

You know, back in Minnesota,

I was known as the Sherlock
Holmes of St. Olaf.

Figured out which one was
Shinola, did you, Rose?

The hard way.

I sure hope this weekend
is a success.

It could give me
a shot at becoming

Kendall Nesbitt's
new assistant.

Who's Kendall Nesbitt?

Oh, he's the museum's
director of acquisitions.

If I got this job, it would
mean going to Europe with him

to look for rare
paintings and antiques.

Well, if he has an eye for
antiques, you should be a shoo-in.

(LAUGHING SARCASTICALLY)

Look who's calling
the vase Ming.

There's just one hitch.

I need three more people to get
the group rate at the hotel.

I thought hotels always
gave you the group rate.

Yeah, sweetheart, but this
is for the whole night.

Is there any chance I could
persuade you girls to join me

for a murder-mystery weekend?

Blanche, are you kidding?

I have read every word

Dashiell Hammett and Raymond
Chandler ever wrote.

Now, Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe
have become a part of me.

"She had more curves
than the Monaco Grand Prix

"and was twice as dangerous.

"Her jewelry was mute testimony

"that Charlie Chaplin
wasn't the only tramp

"who hit it big
in this town."

You do this on first dates,
don't you, Dorothy?

Does this mean you'll go?

Of course we'll go.

Sure, anything for a friend.

What the heck.
I'll go, too.

Yeah, like you had a choice.

When do you think the
mysteries are gonna start?

You want a mystery?
You should have tried

the pink dressing
at the salad bar.

Oh, jeez,
the mystery continues.

Now, girls, remember, look
everyone over very carefully.

Try to figure out
who are the real guests

and who are actors
pretending to be guests.

It'll help when it comes
to solving the mysteries.

Okay, Dorothy.

If that's your real name.

How is that coffee?

Terrific!

Actor.

Blanche,
you're wearing my earrings.

Oh, I know that.

But when I asked you before
where they were,

you said you didn't know,
and now you're wearing them.

Well, Rose, there could be
two explanations.

Either I was lying,

or I was wrong about
the number of explanations.

Blanche.
Oh, Kendall.

Blanche,
I must commend you again.

I have a feeling
we're in for a weekend

none of us is going to forget.

Oh, I do declare,

your sweet words could
charm the mornin' dew

right off of the honeysuckle.

(KENDALL LAUGHING)

That was good, Blanche.
Now, do Br'er Rabbit.

I believe the fun
is about to begin.

Ladies.

I think I got to him,
don't you?

Your eyes are as
good as rolled back.

I do believe that things are gonna
turn out even better than I...

Oh, Kendall is sitting down
with Posey MacGlinn.

She is my main rival
for that assistant's job.

Oh, look at the shameless way
she's flirtin' with him.

Disgustin'.

You flirted with him.

I'm from the South.

Flirting is part
of my heritage.

What do you mean?

Her mother was a slut, too.

Ladies and gentlemen,

I'm sure we all join
his son, his daughter

and his new bride, Candy,

in wishing
many returns of the day

to our friend and patron
for 40 years,

Giles Forsythe.

(GUN FIRING)

(WOMAN SCREAMING)

(GASPING)

My God!
They've been murdered!

Does this mean we don't get
any birthday cake?

Please, nobody touch anything.

My name is Spade Marlowe.

I'm a private detective

retained by the late
philanthropist, Giles Forsythe,

because when an 88-year-old man
marries a 22-year-old girl,

he likes to know
what she's up to.

I'm sorry to interrupt,

but does anybody but me think
the hat's a little precious?

(WHISTLING)

Today was
Giles Forsythe's birthday,

and he intended as
always to celebrate

by having dinner here
with his son, Philip,

a well-known collector
of pre-Columbian artifacts,

his spinster daughter, Gloria,

and of course
his new bride, Candy.

I've failed to
protect my client,

but I am determined,
with your help,

to solve these crimes and bring
the murderer to justice.

Maybe that bloody dagger will
lead us to the murder weapon.

St. Olaf?

Boy, he is good.

Unusual knife.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, cut the cake.

I recognize that.

It's a rare Mayan
sacrificial dagger.

That could prove
to be significant.

Undoubtedly the weapon
used to kill Mrs. Forsythe,

but obviously
her husband was shot.

Then there must be a gun.

South side?

Uncanny.

Do you mind?

Go right ahead.
You won't find anything.

What I believe they refer
to as a purse gun,

and it's been recently fired.

I don't understand.

Ladies and gentlemen,

you now have enough clues
to solve these murders.

Who did it, how and why?

The butler did it!

I'm a maitre d'.

Thank you.
The maitre d' did it!

Philip did it!

Gloria did it!

It was Colonel Mustard in the
library with the candlestick.

Oh, she says, "The butler
did it," and I'm the idiot?

The answer is obvious.
They both did it.

Oh, now, if Miss Smarty
solves the crime,

she'll make a big impression
on Kendall,

and I can just
kiss that job goodbye.

Philip was a collector
of pre-Columbian relics.

Candy had her throat cut
with a Mayan dagger.

He killed her.

The gun was in Gloria's purse.

She killed her father.

Nice try, ma' am, but Philip and
Gloria are innocent of those crimes.

Perhaps,
but they are both murderers.

Sit down, Dorothy.
Don't make a fool of yourself.

Would you care to explain?

In the first place, it is unlikely
that Gloria murdered her father.

Statistics show that patricide

is overwhelmingly a male crime.

Although daughters frequently
murder their mothers!

If Gloria had
killed her father,

would she then have tried to
conceal the weapon in her purse?

Ladies and gentlemen,
I think not.

That gun was obviously
planted in her purse

to pin the murder on her.

I've got it!

A maitre d' is
some kind of waiter.

On the other hand,
Philip would never pick

a Mayan sacrificial knife
as a murder weapon.

Too obvious.

But it would be
no problem for his sister

to sneak the weapon
out of his collection.

This woman's pathetic!

Oh, big news.
Tear out the front page.

Notice that the dagger was found
to the left of the victim.

A throat...

A throat is almost
always cut from behind.

Not part of the show, people.
Not part of the show.

Being right-handed, I would
slash from left to right.

But from the fact

that the murder weapon was dropped
to the left of the victim,

we can deduce that the
murderer is left-handed.

Notice that Gloria,
like most left-handed people,

wears her wristwatch
on her right wrist.

I think it is painfully clear

that Philip and Gloria
both planned murders,

and each meant to
pin it on the other.

They knew that the lights
would be turned off

when the cake appeared because
that happens every year.

Coincidence? Ha!

Siblings often think alike.

You've given us a who,
a how and a "Ha."

But what about why?
What's the motive?

When a 22-year-old
marries an 88-year-old,

chances are
she's not after his body.

Oh, boy.

Gloria and Philip
were both afraid

that Candy would persuade the
old man to change his will,

and they both hoped that
pinning the crime on the other

would make them
the sole inheritor.

Well, there you have it,
ladies and gentlemen,

the who, how and why.

Dorothy, that was
a real Tour de France.

Thank you, thank you, Rose.

Girls, guess what?

Kendall just told me
he needs to be alone with me.

What did you do?

Well, what else?
I gave him my key to our room.

Now, let me have yours, Rose.

You can bunk with
Dorothy and Sophia tonight.

But we were gonna be roomies.

Either you're
bunkin' with them,

or you can sleep in the closet.

Closet?
Give me that key.

(KNOCKING AT DOOR)

Coming, Kendall.

Oh.

Compliments of Mr. Nesbitt.

Well, how sweet.
I'll take it.

No, no, no.
I've got it, ma'am.

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God!

(GASPING)

It's all right.
What is this all about?

He's dead!

Blanche, calm down.

This is undoubtedly just another
part of the mystery weekend.

Oh, yeah?
He looks pretty dead to me.

All right, Ma,
give me your mirror.

What for?

Every morning I hold it
under Ma's nose.

If it fogs up,
I start the coffee.

No breath.

Oh, my God.
He's dead.

Oh, God.

I'm Vaczy, hotel security.
Nobody touch anything.

You say no one was in the
room but her and the victim?

That's right, sir.

He's dead, all right.

Steak knife
right through the heart.

That must be what killed him.

St. Olaf?

It's like I'm wearing a sign.

I want everybody
out of this room.

I'm clearing it
till the police get here.

And nobody leaves the hotel,
especially you.

As of now,
you're the only suspect.

If they put me in prison, I'll be brave.
I can handle it.

Blanche, you don't understand.

They'll put you
in a women's prison.

(BLANCHE GASPING)

Don't let me go, Dorothy!
Don't let me go!

Honey, you are not going to go
because you are not guilty.

I understand you can have
anything for your last meal.

Just ice cream, if you want.

I think I'm gonna be sick.

You're not helping, Rose.

It's almost as though
you believe Blanche is guilty.

Well, she lied
about my earrings,

and she took them.

I mean, deceit, then theft.

Isn't murder
the next logical step?

St. Olaf, right?

Face it, Dorothy.
Blanche was discovered in a locked room.

Only she and the victim
had keys.

I mean, give me
another explanation.

The trouble is, I can't.

Oh, come on, pussycat.

You figured out
that mystery at dinner.

Oh, Ma, that was a game.
This is life.

Oh, that's right.
You've never been good at life.

How can I be accused of murder?

I am a Devereaux.

Things like this usually happen
to people named Petrillo.

I take offense at that.

No one in my family ever,
ever left a body to be found.

Okay, I'm Lieutenant Alvarez,
Dade County Homicide,

and here's what I got.

At around 9:45 last night,

this guy went to Room 405,

carrying champagne
ordered by Nesbitt.

He was admitted by Blanche Devereaux
and discovered the corpse.

Now, Ms. Devereaux and this
dead guy had the only two keys.

Forensics say that
the cause of death

was a stab wound
inflicted by a steak knife.

We know Ms. Devereaux
had steak for dinner.

Given these facts, unless
somebody has something else,

we got enough
to make an arrest.

My, my, Mr. Officer.

I do declare, your sweet words
could charm the mornin' dew

right off the honeysuckle.

Blanche, not now.

If not now, when?

Blanche Devereaux...
Wait, wait!

You haven't
established a motive.

You want a motive?
I'll give you a motive.

That woman gave Kendall
her room key.

I saw her do it.

Her plan was to seduce him

to insure that she would win
the job as his assistant.

Then she got the other key to
the room from that woman there.

She--She rushed up
to the room.

She tore off her clothes.

That's Velcro.

It just gives
the illusion of a tear.

She flung her dress on the bed.

She slipped into a negligee
and awaited her prey.

What she didn't realize was the
reason that Kendall went to her room,

the reason Kendall
ordered the champagne,

was to let her down easy.

He'd already promised
the job to me.

And the reason
he went to her room,

rather than having her
come to his,

was that I was
sharing his room.

Slut!

When Kendall
told her the truth,

she flew into a jealous rage.

She plunged the steak knife
into his chest.

That tramp murdered my lover!

I know Blanche Devereaux,
Lieutenant,

and this tramp is incapable
of committing murder.

Okay, we got a motive,
we got a weapon,

and we got one suspect
with no alibi.

Blanche Devereaux,
I'm charging you with murder.

You have the right to remain...
Wait, wait!

Why would she bring
a steak knife

to what she thought
was a romantic liaison?

It could've been for anything.

I'm not familiar
with her sexual proclivities.

What, are you a rookie?

You still haven't
answered the question

of how somebody else
got into the room.

What if there was
a knock at the door?

Nesbitt might have assumed that it
was the waiter with the champagne.

That is speculation.

But one more point.

The hotel security chief
cordoned off the room,

so the only people who saw
the room after the murder,

other than you and your staff,

were the waiter, the security
chief, and the four of us.

So?

So when Miss MacGlinn was
reconstructing the murder scene,

she described Blanche's dress
being slung over the bed.

It was. I saw it.

But Miss MacGlinn could
only have seen it

if she'd been there
prior to the murder.

(BLANCHE GASPING)

I think I see now
how it happened.

Last evening, at dinner,

when Miss MacGlinn saw Blanche
give Kendall Nesbitt her key,

she was furious.

She dropped a steak knife
into her purse.

Big deal, I took
a whole place setting.

Not now, Ma!

And when she felt that
she wouldn't be missed,

she slipped out of the dining
room and headed upstairs.

Kendall had let himself
into Blanche's room

while she was in the shower

and was making
himself comfortable

when there was
a knock at the door.

Thinking it was the champagne,
he opened the door.

Posey was there.

She accused him
of two-timing.

He denied it.

Posey pulled out a steak knife,

plunged it into his chest

and left the room before
Blanche could discover her.

Jealous rage was the motive,
all right,

but Blanche wasn't
the murderer.

There's your murderer,
Posey MacGlinn.

Well, Miss MacGlinn,
what do you have to say now?

Dorothy Zbornak, you've stuck
your nose in for the last time!

(DOROTHY SCREAMING)

(GUN FIRING)

(GRUNTING)

Posey MacGlinn,

I charge you with the
murder of Kendall Nesbitt.

Lieutenant Alvarez, I don't
think that'll be necessary,

as I seem to have recovered
from my death,

but I would like to thank
the Maltese Falcon Club

and, in particular,
Blanche Devereaux

for giving us a weekend
we'll never forget.

Thank you for coming.

So wait a minute.

You mean those guys
were all in on it?

I was in on it, too.

Oh, come on, you were not.

Oh, all right.
I was not.

Damn it, I just hate to be
the brunt of jokes.

Funny, you don't mind being
the brunt of limericks.

That's different.
That's poetry.

Wait a minute.
There's one thing I don't understand.

When I checked to make sure
that Kendall was really dead,

why didn't his breath show up
on your mirror?

Simple. The mirror had been
sprayed with defogger.

But who could have done that?

I did.

The people at the club
asked me to.

Well, Rose, why would you do
such a cruel thing to me?

Well, Blanche, there could
be two explanations.

Either I was getting back at you
for taking my earrings or...

Oh, who are we kidding?
That's why I did it.

This whole thing is
just unbelievable.

Kendall, you're not dead,

and I didn't kill anybody.

And I didn't take
any silverware.

Does this mean I'm still in
the runnin' for the job?

Of course you are.

Oh, well...

So this was all a mockery,
a sham.

No crimes were
committed at all.

What a load of fun.

Pussycat, help me carry
my purse to the car.