All language subtitles for Murder, She Wrote S10E13 Portrait of Death.DVDRip.Non-HI.en

Let's open our hearts, our
pocketbooks and our auction.

Kim Mitchell? Jessica!

Well, I heard all about
your good fortune.

Kim Mitchell of
Cabot Cove, Maine,

you've just won
$10 million! I mean...

You didn't come here
to grill me, too, did you?

I can't let Willow Gardens
be touched with scandal.

What? Did you just
fall out of the tree?

Yeah. Well, you guys are welcome
to get all warm and fuzzy about Jovey,

but I'm not about to
turn my back on him.

We made the rent, and then some.

From Miss Mitchell, sir. Ah.

Lovely, isn't it?

Stabbed in the back with
a statue of Don Quixote.

I'm sorry, Artie, I didn't
mean to withhold anything.

And while you're at it, stay
the hell away from my sister!

Get him out of here!

But notice the
underlying narrative.

How the artist imposes a
certain order to the chaos.

Philip, $15,000 is a
lot of cash for chaos.

Frankly, I hate it.

Who said anything
about liking it?

Sondra, remember, last year,

that oil on wood you
absolutely loathed?

It did triple in value,
I'll grant you that.

Less due to your
judgment than the artist

killing himself in that
spectacular fashion.

Bungee jumping.
Tragic but public.

All right, I'll take it. Good.

Maybe I'll get lucky again.

Kim, darling.

Sondra, Kim Mitchell's
hosting the charity auction

for the Willow
Gardens Boy's School.

It's in my calendar. Good.

I'm sure I can find something
to donate, eh, Philip?

Kisses.

Philip, we have a problem.

This Walt Yoder... Let me guess.

You hung it for a week and
it bores you. No problem.

Pick out something else.
No, no, no, no. That isn't it.

I saw this serigraph
with a different number,

in the Village yesterday,
at a third of the price.

They must have mismarked
it. Somebody got a steal.

Funny you should use that
word! Philip, don't do this to me...

Okay, Kim, look. Now, I've
just located an Alexis Hill.

It'll be yours, with
my compliments.

Mrs. Hanna, how are you?

Kim Mitchell? Jessica!

I heard you took a
place in New York.

Yes, on West 60th Street.
Oh, what a lovely surprise!

You know, I heard all
about your good fortune.

It was a magazine
sweepstakes, wasn't it?

Yes, it was.

Oh! They came to my door
with a television camera

and a six foot long check.

Kim Mitchell of
Cabot Cove, Maine,

you've just won $10 million.
Can you imagine that?

No, I can't.

But it obviously changed
your lifestyle dramatically.

Oh, that's the
understatement of the decade.

For starters, I've been
living here for 11 months now.

And, listen, Jessica, I have a lunch
date with my step-brother, Mark.

You remember him? Of course.

Why don't you join
us? We'll all catch up.

Yes! Yes! My treat!

I have to go next door first

because my printer
is on the blink,

and I have got the copy shop
running off some things for me...

Sweetie, it's written
all over your face.

They see I didn't go to
college, I'm out the door.

Your sister's making like, what,

$400,000 a year, tax
free for the next 20 years?

She can support you, me,
and a couple of zip codes.

Teddy, I can't go
on living off of her.

Actually, I've been thinking about asking
her to help me out with college tuition.

Wait a minute, I am
not planning on working

as a glorified gofer
for the next four years.

Not again.

Uh-uh. Today it's
Chez Maison, on sis.

That's more like it.

You know, that nice account
supervisor I was telling you about,

Mr. Nicholas, he said
he'd love to take me there.

Tell me, do you
get up there often?

Things got very weird in Cabot
Cove when I hit the jackpot.

Oh, in what way?

People started acting
strange toward me.

Old friends. Even
Mike Pettibone.

You remember, Mike. Mike
and I, we had a real thing going.

But the money, I think
threatened his masculinity.

Well, money can
do that sometimes.

Mark, have you moved
down to the city as well?

I came down for a job interview

and I've been under
Kim's roof ever since.

I see. What's a big sister for?

Anyway, you're gonna
get something soon.

Kim, Teddy and I
have been thinking.

I would be out from underneath
your feet if I had my own place.

Nothing fancy.

We saw this darling little
apartment overlooking the East River.

They only want $50,000 down.

Teddy.

I was talking about a rental.

I didn't realize you
two were so serious.

Jessica, did you know that Kim
has a significant other, as they say?

Kim?

Somebody I can trust.

I've become very paranoid about
people who take a sudden interest in me.

Well, I've never been on the receiving
end of a six-foot long check myself,

but I think I can
understand what you mean.

You'll see why
Bert's so special.

A stockbroker who refuses
to take me on as a client.

He's wonderful, Jessica.

Do you know, the real
blessing this money's given me

is the freedom to
pursue my lifelong dream.

Sculpture?

Are you still cleaning
up the environment?

Turning junk into art.

It's the best thing
you've ever done, Kim.

Oh.

You're a dear, Bert,
but, no, it's just...

No, it's just not there yet.

You're being much too
demanding of yourself, darling.

Oh, you're a love.

Why is it you can always find

just the right spot on my
back that needs scratching?

Well, not quite always.

I'm afraid I'm not having a whole
lot of luck finding your brother a job.

Truth is, these days Ivy
Leaguers with master's degrees

are fighting over
mail-room jobs.

I'll keep asking around though.

Thanks, Bert.

You better get cleaned up.

Dr. Swope will be
along any time now.

Right! Gee, can you imagine,

prep school headmasters
lining up for an audience with moi.

Well, it's nice of you
to call, Mr. Jovey.

No, we're very grateful
to you, Mrs. Fletcher.

I couldn't have
been more delighted

when Kim told me you'd
be contributing to the auction.

I've heard so many wonderful
things about your books.

Well, thank you.

Tell me, what kind of a
piece will you be donating?

Well, it's a still life
by Jabez Stone.

He's quite well-known
in New England.

Yes. I know who
he is, Mrs. Fletcher.

Look, tell me, given the
sophisticated tastes of our clientele,

are you sure you couldn't
find something a little more,

shall we say, timely?

Mr. Jovey, I don't pretend to
be an expert on such things,

but I was under the impression
that one of the yardsticks

by which art is judged
is its timelessness,

or has all that changed?

Of course not, Mrs. Fletcher,

but I'm sure you've noticed
when you visited the gallery,

we've moved
beyond pretty pictures.

Yes, yes, I did notice.

Frankly, Mr. Jovey, I find
your attitude surprising.

However, since it's for
Kim's favorite charity,

I'll drop it off in the
morning. Thank you.

Goodbye.

Miss Mitchell, Kim,

the Willow Garden boys are
gonna love the new football gear,

and they're just gonna have to learn to
live with the new science lab equipment,

which you have most
generously provided.

So, from them and
from me, our thanks.

Dr. Swope, is old Mr. Hucko
still teaching English?

Yeah. In fact, he asked
to be remembered to you.

Something about a
book report you still owe?

Pardon me.

I made the crab puffs
myself, Mr. Mitchell.

They look fabulous,
Frances. Oh, thank you.

No, thank you.

Miss Mitchell. I'll have one.

That woman's got an attitude.

Come on, Teddy.

Good evening, Mr. Jovey.

Frances.

Oh, I've got it.

You used to work for Walter and
Betsy Horak, out in the Hamptons. Right?

I'm afraid not, sir. Oh.

God, I love this space.

Oh, do forgive the intrusion.

Kim, as promised,
the Alexis Hill.

Oh, Philip, I love it.

You better ask
how much it is first.

Oh, Mark, it's a gift.

Kim, do you know, your work
is getting better and better.

Let's have a talk next week

about giving you a
one-woman show.

Good night, all.

Did you hear what he said?

About my sculpture and
me? A one-woman show!

Sis, I don't wanna
pop your balloon,

but you know what
kind of guy he is.

Mark could be right.

Among my clients who
invest in the art market,

Mr. Jovey does not have
the greatest reputation.

Oh, come on, will
you get off his case?

Yeah, well, you guys are welcome
to get all warm and fuzzy about Jovey,

but I'm not about to
turn my back on him.

Oh, lovely, Mrs. Fletcher.

Would you sign your name
and the title of the painting

in the receipt book on the desk?

Certainly, Mr. Jovey.

Dede.

Yes, Mr. Jovey.

Philip, my charitable
nature knows no bounds.

Remember The Roommate?

The Elizabeth McKay.
Superb. How could I forget?

Then you should
recall selling it to me

three years ago for $50,000,

swearing her work
would go through the roof.

And it should have.

Well, how was I to know
the bottom would suddenly

fall out of
representational art.

Sign it in for me,
darling, would you?

Well, giving it away will at least
save me the insurance premiums.

Mr. Jovey.

Well, it's Frances, isn't it?

Yes, sir.

From Miss Mitchell, sir. Ah.

Lovely, isn't it?

Exquisite.

Yes, it is.

Is this going to be
auctioned today, Mr. Jovey?

I haven't decided. Stack it over
there for the time being, would you?

This is so interesting.
Might I take a look about?

Be my guest. Thank you, sir.

Precious, I seem to have left
my reading glasses upstairs.

Be a dear and fetch
'em for me, would you?

Try the dresser in
the back bedroom.

Hi.

Good afternoon.

Willow Gardens School
for homeless boys,

Kearney, Nebraska.

Now, of course, we take
great pride in athletics.

This year our football team
was runner-up in its division.

But we take the most
pride in our academics.

Every year, our students go
off to universities, coast-to-coast.

Yes, and this fine
fellow, of course, is me.

And if I do the digging,

I'm afraid the new science
building we've undertaken,

it'll never get finished.

But you see... Could I
have some lights, please?

But you see, a recent and most
generous gift by miss Kim Mitchell

has allowed us to start the ground
breaking well ahead of schedule.

Our gratitude, Miss Mitchell.

Please everyone.

Ladies and gentlemen,
let's open our hearts,

our pocketbooks,
and our auction.

Our first offering.

Number seven on your list.

Oh, yes, a charming
little still life entitled

A Day's Catch, by Jabez
Stone, donated by J.B. Fletcher.

- Two hundred.
- Two hundred, do I hear 250?

- Two fifty.
- Three fifty.

Three-fifty. I hear
350. Do I hear four?

Four hundred. MAN 4: Six.

I hear six. Who'll
give me seven?

- Seven hundred.
- Eight hundred.

Nine hundred. Nine.

One thousand
dollars. I hear $1,000.

Going once. Going
twice, and sold.

To Mr. Martin Gross for $1,000.

Will you be in
town long, Doctor?

Well, I hope long enough
to get to know you better.

And now we have a
truly remarkable work

by an artist just
coming into her own.

The Relentless
Warrior, by Kim Mitchell.

We've had a jump bid of
$1,500 by Mr. Bert Lown.

Going once, going twice.

And sold to Mr. Lown for 1,500.

Next up, number
24, an oil on canvas,

The Roommate by Elizabeth McKay.
- Philip.

That's not my painting!
That's not The Roommate.

Where's The Roommate? Dede?

Beats me, Mr. Jovey. I'll
have to look in the back.

Oh, never mind.
We'll move on for now.

My apologies, Mrs. Arthur,
we'll sort this out later.

And here's an artist
familiar to most of you,

Lori Witt, one of her
popular Manhattan scenes.

Bidding begins at
an affordable $2,500.

Come on, honey. Our first
art for our first apartment.

Do I hear 2,500?

We don't have the
money to buy the frame.

Silly. Your sister can give it
to us as a housewarming gift.

I hear 2,500. Do I hear 3,000?

Going once, going twice.

And sold for $2,500 to the
lovely young lady with Mr. Mitchell.

Teddy?

Oh, my God! Do you
know what you just did?

You want to pick it up on
Monday? Of course, Mr. Lown.

I'll have it ready for you
first thing. Thank you.

Forgetting something,
Mr. Mitchell?

Come on, Jovey, you know as
well as I do, she didn't mean to bid.

I must insist you
honor the commitment.

Yeah?

Well, I insist you get
your oily hands off me!

And while you're at it, stay
the hell away from my sister!

Mark?

Break it up! Break it up!

Break it up! Get
him out of here!

Let's go!

My apologies, everybody. Please
do stay and enjoy the refreshments.

Mark!

I should never have brought him.

It's all right, darling.

Well, no one was hurt.

I think he just had a little
too much of the grape.

Don't worry about
the misunderstanding.

I'll pay for Teddy's gaffe.

Oh, no, Bert. I really... I
couldn't let you do that.

I don't want to hear
another word about it.

Excuse me.

Do you believe him?

You didn't lie.

Splendid job, Mr. Jovey.

Oh, your checks, Dr. Swope,

made out to the
Foundation, as you asked.

Very good. How did we do?

$220,000.

Oh, my gosh, that is lovely.

So if I'm not mistaken, your
fee comes to $22,000, yes?

You're very mistaken, Doctor.

The gallery's share will come
to considerably more than that.

Excuse me?

The gallery's share of these
proceeds will be exactly half.

$110,000, payable in cash

no later than one hour after
the banks open tomorrow.

What the hell are
you talking about?

I'm a man who likes to know
who he's dealing with, Doctor.

I made a few phone calls,
got some interesting responses.

Well, I don't know
what you mean.

There's one call I haven't
yet made. To the police.

Your checks, Doctor.

Did we have a
good day, Mr. Jovey?

We made the rent, and then some.

Good night, Dede.

Where are you going? You
were dying to watch the game.

Well, I changed my mind.

I wanna pick up tomorrow's paper

and check out the
employment listings, you know,

get a jump on the competition.

Great! You're still
bent out of shape

over this afternoon, aren't you?

I've been happier, yeah.

Oh! You're blaming
me, is that it?

Well, don't expect to find
me here when you get back!

Mr. Mitchell.

Is he all right?

Frances, get a life, okay?

He doesn't need a nanny.

No. Look, everything's
fine, Sondra.

You sure? I reported
the loss of your painting,

and the police will
be in touch with you.

So, you can go ahead
with your insurance claim.

It's not a total
loss. Thank you.

You're welcome. Bye.

Bye.

Reynolds? No, Mr. Jovey,
this is Jessica Fletcher.

Oh! Well, I'm so
glad I caught you.

I think I might've left
one of my manuscripts

in your coatroom this afternoon.

Oh, you're in luck, Mrs.
Fletcher. Somebody turned it in.

Look, I was just gonna
leave. How soon could you...

Mr. Jovey.

Are you all right? Mr. Jovey?

I'm sorry, sir, you're
still liable for payment.

So, I'm still liable
for 50 bucks a card,

and I have, I mean, I had an
awful lot of credits cards, you know.

That's correct, sir. Oh,
yeah. Well, let me know

if something turns
up, by some miracle.

It's embarrassing.

I was pick pocketed on
the subway coming in.

The old bump and stall.

Meanwhile, back at the homicide,

like it or else, Jessica,
you're my ear witness.

Ear witness? That's
very good, Artie.

Thanks. I should
get paid for it.

Anyway, you're on the phone
with Jovey when he gets killed.

Do you hear any sounds
in the background?

Well, just a groan.

I did hear footsteps after
his body fell, but that's all.

Stabbed in the back with
a statue of Don Quixote.

Robbery.

Nice simple motive. His
watch and his wallet gone.

Robbery, Artie? I'm not so sure.

Excuse me, Miss Fletcher...

Lieutenant, no forced entry,

nobody tripped the alarm system.

So it figures that our victim
knew his killer and let him in,

or the killer had a key.

In either case, I'd say we've
got premeditated murder here.

Thanks for the theory,
Henderson. You were saying?

Well, $25,000 price
tag, and it's quite small.

Right. Right.

A thief could absolutely put
that under his coat in a second,

so why just settle for
a watch and a wallet?

Henderson, you were right.

I must have
robbery on the brain.

Artie, the notation here
on Mr. Jovey's notepad.

"Reynolds." That's what he said
when he answered the phone.

As if he was expecting
this Reynolds to call.

Artists have agents. We'll check
Jovey's files and phonebook.

Excuse me again, but apparently
there was a real robbery here.

Dede, Mrs. Gorman claims to have
reported a painting missing last night.

It's called The Roommate.

Oh, of course. There was
a foul-up during the auction,

and they couldn't find it.

A painting's gone
in the afternoon,

and there is a murder at night.

I cannot connect the two.

By the way, Lieutenant, have you
got those lottery tickets we bought?

Henderson, we are in the
middle of a murder investigation,

you're talking lottery ticket?

I don't wanna let
myself get too excited,

but these winning numbers look a lot
like the ones I remember on our ticket.

The jackpot is
two million, and...

You're kidding.

I'll talk to you
about it later, okay?

But... I said, later.

Give you a lift, Jessica?

I don't usually drink
in the afternoon,

but then I don't usually have
the police here in the morning.

Here. Let me... Oh, thank you.

They don't think that
you have anything to do

with this murder, do they?

Well, who knows what they think?

Do you know Philip Jovey well?

You didn't come here
to grill me, too, did you?

No. No. Not at all, but you must
understand that a man in my position...

I mean, what with this
murder and everything...

I can't let Willow Gardens
be touched with scandal.

I admire your

dedication, Arthur.

And your private life?

Well, that can be
touched, Sondra.

Gently.

I just can't seem to get
Philip Jovey out of my mind.

I mean, you hear
about violence non-stop,

but when it's somebody you
know, somebody you just saw.

Excuse me, ma'am.

Oh, yeah.

Hello, I'm sorry to
barge in like this.

But I need to have a
word with Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, what is it, Artie?

Jessica, how come you
didn't tell me that Mark Mitchell

took a poke at Jovey?

Oh! Well, I'm sorry, Artie.

I didn't mean to
withhold anything.

It simply never occurred to me

that it had anything
to do with the murder.

Well, according to
Dede, Jovey's assistant,

brother Mark has had an
ongoing feud with the victim.

Mr. Mitchell?

Yes.

For the record, you don't deny
taking a swing at Mr. Jovey?

Of course not.

My only regret is
I didn't deck him.

He had it coming!

You're leading up to
a justifiable homicide.

Oh, Lieutenant. My
brother is not a murderer.

She's right, Lieutenant.
Besides, ask around,

there must be a list as
long as the FDR Drive

of people who hated
Jovey. Mmm-hmm.

He had the reputation
of a pickpocket.

Now, look, Miss Mitchell is
upset enough that her sculpture

was used as a murder weapon.

So we'd appreciate it if
you'd just make your point,

and then leave us alone.

Done. Our lab turned up
some prints on the sculpture.

They were yours, Mr. Mitchell.

Seems that the
NCIC had 'em on file

along with a record of
several other arrests,

you know, up at Cabot Cove.

He was a teenager,
for God's sake.

Thanks, sis. I can
take care of myself.

I was showing it off to
people before the auction.

He's right, I saw him with
the sculpture in his hand.

Where were you at
9:00 p.m. last night?

Me?

Teddy and I went to
dinner. We caught a movie.

Okay. I left about 8:30,
I went to Jovey's gallery.

He let me in.

I was angry as hell for
what he pulled on Kim,

and what he did to Teddy and me.

I tried to get your check back,
Bert, but he flat out refused.

I was ready to beat
the hell out of him.

So anyway, I
chilled out and I left.

He was still alive.

Get your coat.

Look, it's only for questioning.

They haven't charged
him with a crime.

The night's still young.

Kim, I am so
sorry over the alibi.

But Mark looked like a deer
stunned in the headlights.

So you wound up punching
his lights out instead.

I wouldn't hurt
him for the world.

Like I just told
the lieutenant...

When Mark said he was going out

to get the job
section of the paper,

I split from your loft and
went back to my place.

Anyone see you?

What? Did you just
fall out of the tree?

I hardly knew Jovey.

I'll see you around.

I really do try to see the
best in people, but with her...

The Wall Street Journal. Teddy?

Bert?

Oh, he was probably just
giving her some stock tips.

You see? Over-the-counter, cheap
stuff. That's all Teddy could afford.

Can we release her?

Yeah, yeah. You can release
her on my recognizance.

Now will you put
her on? Yes, sir.

Bloomingdale's.

Store alarms went off, my
wife tried to use a credit card

that I thought was in my wallet.

Artie... Doris, relax,
will you please, Doris?

I reported the card stolen.

I just didn't report it to you.

What in the hell are you
talking about? Doris...

They handcuffed me, Artie!

Doris, I will see you at
home in an hour, okay?

Yeah, yeah.

Henderson, I do not wanna
talk about the lottery ticket.

Fine. Let's talk about
Philip Jovey's datebook.

Look.

You're absolutely
right, darling.

Teddy called and asked me
for some tips on cheapo stocks.

I had one of the interns at
the office pick a few. That's all.

Oh, this murder, your
concern about Mark.

It's going to be okay. I know.

Well, you do seem
to be in good hands.

So, I think I'll be
running along.

Oh, I'm sorry, Jessica,
I'm such a mess tonight.

Oh.

Mr. Mitchell.

Mark! Lieutenant.

Evening, Miss Mitchell.

We finally turned
an alibi for him.

The two women who own
the pet boutique next door

were closing up and saw
Mark leave when he said.

They could see
Jovey was still alive.

Thank God.

That's the good news.

This item in Jovey's datebook
says he spent a week last summer

out at Bar Harbor with
somebody of the initials of K.M.

Would you care to comment
on that, Miss Mitchell?

Philip and I had a brief affair.

It was over months ago.
Long before I met you, Bert.

Lieutenant, you
have our statements.

We were together
all evening. Right.

Conveniently slumming,

having dinner in Grand Central
station at a vending machine

that can neither
corroborate or deny.

But, Artie, why
would she kill him?

Rejection, revenge, jealousy.

Motive du jour.

Mr. Lown, you sure you
don't wanna rethink your story?

I was afraid Mark would lose it

and go after Philip.

So, I went to the gallery in the
hopes that I could straighten things out.

When I got there, it
was locked up tight.

I guess Mark had
already been there.

For all I know, Philip
was already dead.

You didn't let yourself
into that apartment,

go down the stairs into
that gallery and kill him?

The victim's first entry.

The day after he got back to
Manhattan from Bar Harbor,

he wrote, "Key for K.M."

You wouldn't still happen
to have that key, would you?

My God...

His assistant, Dede, told us she
had the key duplicated for you.

Besides which, we've
already established

that your fingerprints are
on the murder weapon.

Artie...

Jessica, we are talking
means, motive, opportunity,

and a false statement
to the police.

Miss Mitchell,

this is going to be a charge
of first degree murder.

Jessica, I'm so sorry

for the lies about my
relationship with Philip Jovey.

I was just so terrified I'd
lose Bert if he found out.

I understand.

And he was such a
dear, the way he took it.

It was all the sweepstakes
money, you know.

Philip was just all over me,

and surprise, surprise, little Kim
bought into the strokes, the attention.

I had it all figured out before
we even got back from Maine.

He admitted I was right.

Our relationship was basically
professional from then on.

And your key to his apartment?

I forgot about it,
he forgot about it.

You know, sometimes I wish I
could just give all the money back.

Some lineup.

Did you know that all
pickpockets look alike?

For what it's worth, Lieutenant,
the newspaper reported

that a winning lottery ticket was
purchased in Manhattan. Two million.

Henderson, if that
is our winning ticket,

I promise you, I will personally
make it up to you, okay?

Any luck with the
missing painting?

The Roommate? Nah.

Jovey tore this out of
a two-year-old catalog.

We circulated it, but no cigar.

And this Mr. Reynolds,

the one that Mr. Jovey
jotted on his notepad?

The agent, zip. I mean,
what kind of an artist

would wanna be represented
by an agent that nobody can find?

Artie, the treasury has
agents, the FBI, the CIA.

That is worth taking a shot at.

I'll start with the FBI.

Why would Philip call them?

Yeah, Lieutenant
Arthur Gelber, NYPD.

Listen, do you have an agent named
Reynolds around there by any chance?

Yes, we do.

They got one in stock.

Thomas B. Fugitive division.

Agent Reynolds. Yeah.
Yeah. Agent Reynolds?

Look, have you been contacted by
a guy named Philip Jovey recently?

Yeah. He left a message.

Right, right. Yeah, terrific.

Yeah. I'll get back to you.

Good news? More like no news.

All Reynolds got that Saturday
afternoon was a message from Jovey.

When he called him back
that night, the line was busy.

The phone probably lying
there on the floor next to his body.

So, we may never
know why Jovey called.

Look, why don't you make
it easy on us and let us in on

where you ditched the
victim's watch and wallet?

Lieutenant, I
didn't kill anybody.

Artie, what about the painting?

I mean, the painting was
stolen hours before the murder.

Hang in, Kim.

I have a feeling that Mrs. Arthur
may have some answers for us.

I rely on the advice of
dealers like Mr. Jovey.

He convinced me that this
artist, this Elizabeth McKay,

would become very hot.

Any particular reason?

She was a convicted
murderer, serving a life sentence.

Why a painting he touted
me onto three years ago

for 50,000 is worth only
five today is beyond me.

Yes, I'll get back my 50,000 from the
insurance company, if nobody finds it,

but I had nothing
to do with its theft.

So I'm afraid there isn't much I
can say to help your friend Kim.

And in the three years, no one came
to you with an offer for The Roommate?

Not one.

The charity auction was a chance
to give the damned thing away

for a tax write-off.

That nice Dr. Swope...

Now, I'm a little embarrassed.

What I had to offer wasn't very
much for such a worthy cause,

and because the
picture was stolen,

I ended up giving
Willow Gardens nothing.

Well, I'm quite sure that the
school will be pleased to get a check.

I've already written one.

I wanted to give it to
Dr. Swope personally,

but I never got the
name of his hotel.

Anyway, I saved
the school newsletter

they handed out at the
auction, so I'll just mail it in.

Maybe you have
helped Kim after all.

Mrs. Arthur, at the
slide show the other day,

do you recall seeing
a photo of Dr. Swope

breaking ground for
the science building?

With a shovel, yes. Why?

Well, there's an asterisk
under the calendar

that indicates that
due to heavy rain

the groundbreaking will be
postponed until next month.

Yes. This is the Willow
Gardens School for boys.

You say we've
met, Mrs. Fletcher?

That's right, Doctor. We met
this last weekend in New York.

Your charity auction
at the Jovey gallery.

Mrs. Fletcher, I assure you,

I haven't been to New
York city in two years.

Oh, have they moved?

Beats me, lady. I was
told to take the name off.

The two month rental is up.

Only two months?

Yeah. Mostly
transients in this building.

It must've been real cozy when
the "and associates" showed up.

I hope they liked each other.

They barely had enough
room to work on margin.

A dial tone. Thank heavens.

Get it? Stockbrokers margin?

Lieutenant Gelber. Hello, Artie.

Yeah, right. That
is worth a shot.

Those checks they took
in should clear by today.

Yeah. Well, look, I gotta
step on it. Thanks, Jessica.

Hey, Henderson.

What's the matter? You look
like someone took your last nickel.

Close. Our winning
lottery ticket.

Some guy just walked
into the lottery office with it,

to claim the two
mill. Our pickpocket.

Looks like it. I told
'em to hold him.

Bunco's gonna
pick him up for us.

Bless you, Henderson. Let's go.

Hold it, gentlemen. Us?

Artie, Henderson.

Jessica, what's this all about?

It's about charity fraud, grand
larceny and possibly murder.

Not necessarily in
that order. Murder?

Now that is
ridiculous. No. Look...

I suggest that the less you
say, the better, Mr. Lown,

and the same goes for your
friend, whatever his name is.

Checks cleared, Lieutenant.

With only a phone and no broker's
license, it's not too surprising,

you were so reluctant to
take Kim Mitchell on as a client.

And the con, Jessica?

It was clever, Artie. As a
graduate of Willow Gardens,

Mr. Lown regularly receives
the school newsletter.

That's how they could
be reasonably sure

of the real Dr. Swope's
comings and goings.

So they wouldn't cross wires with the
school's regular fund-raising activities.

Very nifty. And Mr. Lown
here finds a mark.

Exactly. In this case,

Kim Mitchell contributed
her own money,

and then with your
gentle urging, Bert,

innocently helped arrange
the biggest part of your sting.

Jovey's gallery. The auction.

Jovey gets wise,
so you kill him...

Or not.

Well, Jessica, it just as well
could've been Miss Mitchell.

All right. In any case, lock up
these two guys. I'll get the bag.

All right, let's go.

Oh! What do they
got in there, lead?

I thought it was empty.

"I thought it was empty."

Gold coins. These guys
were really ready to travel.

You know, Artie, I don't
think they killed Jovey.

And I'm sure it wasn't Kim.

That look again. Okay, who?

I think it has to do with the
missing painting, The Roommate.

Jessica, would you mind
including me in this conversation?

I'm sorry. That FBI agent,
what was his name...

Tom Reynolds. What about
him? Reynolds, that's it!

Could you call him?

There are a couple of questions
that I'd like you to ask him.

It'll be worth it, if only
because, maybe then,

I will find out what
you're talking about.

Mrs. Fletcher?

Oh, Teddy, I didn't
expect to find you here.

Mutual.

I took the afternoon off.
What're you doing here?

Oh, I was just picking
up some papers for Kim.

Have you seen Mark?

No. No. But there's
a note on the desk

asking you to meet
him at Chez Maison.

Thanks a lot. Mmm-hmm.

Mrs. Fletcher, I didn't
hear you come in.

May I help you find something?

Thank you, Frances,

but I've already found
what I was looking for.

The bag you used to deliver Kim's
sculpture to Philip Jovey's gallery.

Oh?

It's the same bag
in which you placed

the Elizabeth McKay painting,
The Roommate, when you stole it.

Me? Why would I
do a thing like that?

You were afraid
someone might recognize

that the woman in
the painting was you.

Mrs. Fletcher, I only got a
quick look at that painting,

but wasn't the woman
blonde and blue-eyed?

Yes, she was.

Those shadows at first
glance, they could be blinds.

But then I realized
what they really were.

Shadows cast by prison bars.

The bracelet is
for prisoner's ID.

When your hair rinse
has been washed out,

and your brown
contact lenses removed,

I'm sure you'll look
exactly like her,

like who you really are.

Not Frances McNean
from San Francisco,

but Wanda Rae Skutnik,
from Kansas City,

Elizabeth McKay's cellmate,

an inmate at the
Missouri Women's Prison,

where you'd been serving
30 years to life for murder,

till a year ago
when you escaped.

Now, that is
totally ridiculous...

You're pulling this
right out of the air.

Not quite. It came out
of the FBI's fugitive files.

You see, Wanda, you killed
Philip Jovey without realizing

that he had made the connection,

that he'd already tried to
contact the FBI about you.

Okay, Mrs. Fletcher.

So, you're a very bright
lady to figure all this out.

Too bright for your own good.

Drop it! Henderson,

read the lady her rights.

You have a right
to remain silent.

You have a right to an
attorney. Ah! Forget it.

I know the drill.

It never bothered
me all that much,

Jovey finding out who I was,

until I got to the gallery with Kim's
sculpture and saw that painting.

Exquisite.

- This is going to be auctioned?
- I figured then I was in trouble.

And I knew I had to
get my hands on it,

and get it out of peoples'
sight, especially his.

And a few moments later,
you left the gallery with it.

It didn't register with me at the
time that your bag wasn't empty,

but actually
contained the painting.

Right.

After that, I yanked that
thing out of the frame,

and tore it up.

But I was afraid that
Jovey would remember.

And would realize it was me.

I started working for Kim

right before she went
to Maine with him.

So you knew about
the key to his apartment.

Yeah.

And I remembered
where she kept it.

So, after everyone
left for the evening,

I grabbed it and I
headed for his place.

I entered his apartment from
the street, and went downstairs.

His phone rang.

Probably my call to him
about my manuscript.

Oh, yes. You're in luck, Mrs.
Fletcher, somebody turned it in.

Look, I was just leaving.
How soon can you...

Mr. Jovey? Are you all right?

Mr. Jovey?

Lousy break. Mrs. Arthur
deciding to donate that painting.

Boy, there was no way

I was gonna spend the best years
of my life in a stinking prison cell.

Wrong, Miss Skutnik, only
it'll probably be two cells.

You'll finish your sentence in Missouri,
and then New York will want you.

That kind of variety ought
to be good for the soul.

Cuff her.

Detective Henderson? Oh, please,
have him come right up, Richie.

Thank you.

Well, when do you
start your classes, Mark?

Next week, thanks to
my big sister's generosity.

I feel as if I already qualify
for a graduate degree

on who not to get
romantically involved with.

That goes for me, too. Yeah.

All right. Are you ready
to hear something ironic?

Philip Jovey is going to give
me a one-woman show after all.

Wow!

A really prestigious
gallery in San Francisco

saw a photograph of
The Relentless Warrior

in the newspaper coverage
of the Jovey murder.

The brochures are
being printed as we speak.

Kim, that is so exciting!

The show gonna include
the murder weapon?

No way. I never
want to see it again.

Just a moment.
As a matter a fact,

as soon as the DA's
finished using it for evidence,

I'm gonna have it melted down.

Miss Fletcher. Yeah.
Come on inside.

Your wallet,
Lieutenant. Oh, fantastic!

They caught the
pickpocket? Yeah.

Your desk chair.
The cleaning crew

found it wedged between
the back and the side.

Well, what happened to
the winning lottery ticket?

Oh, and the alleged pickpocket?

He was a sweet
little 85-year-old lady

who the chief had me
issue a personal apology to.

So, we at least win
a consolation prize?

I was a little off, Lieutenant.
We got one number right.

It could've been worse, Artie.

He could've won.