Original subtitles

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.