All language subtitles for Newhart_S07E21

[♪♪♪]

- Don't sleep outside
with your mouth open

tomorrow night, Joanna.

- Why, are the neighbors
complaining?

- No, but the way
my left knee aches,

I predict torrential rains
moving in tomorrow evening

from the north,
continuing through the night,

tapering off
by mid-morning.

Total rainfall:
about two and a half inches.

Ow, make that three inches.

- Very impressive leg work.

- Well, I could be wrong.

My knee also predicted
snow last August.

Still, I better get my tools
and bolt down the shutters.

- Oh, damn!

- Package for Dick Loudon.

- What is it?

- What, are you deaf?

I said I've got a package.

So I've got a package
for Dick Loudon. Sign here.

Yeah, I've got to get home,
bolt up the old shutters.

Torrential rain due
tomorrow night.

Two and a half,
maybe three inches.

- How did you know that?

- Well, didn't you
notice the way

that your hired hand
was limping?

'Course, it was his fault

that I bought that snow blower
last August.

Well...

- Oh--oh, it's here.
Why--why didn't you tell me?

- Honey, you don't just tell
someone a box has arrived.

You break it to them in stages.

What's in it?

- My new book.

- Wow, I can use the box
to store my drill bits.

- Now if we can only figure out
what to do with all these books.

- You could stack them and make
a nice stand for the box.

- Murder at the Stratley ,
a Dick Loudon mystery.

I didn't know
you were writing a novel.

- Well, I didn't
want to say anything

just in case
it didn't turn out well,

but now I think
it's safe to say

it's just about
the greatest story ever told.

- Well, the Bible's
pretty good too.

- Yeah, but that was written by
a lot of different guys, George.

This is pure Loudon.

- What's the Stratley?

- Oh, that's a beautiful
old New England inn

where this story takes place.

- So it's like the Stratford?

- No. No, not at all.
It's the Stratley.

I-I made it up.

- Sounds a lot like
the Stratford,

especially the "Strat" part.

- Well, it's completely
different.

- Of course it is.

Who's Johanna?

- The--the innkeeper's wife.

- Is she the hauntingly
beautiful object of desire?

- Yeah, until page six
when she gets

bludgeoned to death
by a typewriter.

- Dick, I read Murder
at the Stratley last night

and personally, I think it's
the greatest story ever told.

- You know, you're not the
first person who's said that.

A-Actually,
I'm surprised you read it.

- Well, to be honest,
I just read the pages

about the beautiful maid,
Stephanella.

- Yeah, the rest is just
filler anyway. So...

- Maybe your next book should
include pictures of Stephanella.

I mean, words
can only say so much.

- Morning, honey.

- Don't "morning" me.

Not after you
bludgeoned me like that.

- She isn't you.
She's Johanna.

There is no "H" in your name.

- Dick, it's me.

She's tall, she's blonde,
she's from Painesville, Ohio.

- Well, of course, if you're
going to go over the book

with--with a fine-tooth comb.

You're bound to find
some similarities.

- And funny how the lead
character, the innkeeper,

just happens to be a writer
and talk show host.

- There is a world of difference
between a man named Dick

and a man named Rick.

- Oh, good morning, Joanna.
My, you look beautiful.

- Well, thank you, Stephanie.

- Dick, you know what would have
made your book even better?

- What's that?

- The character Johanna
just goes on and on and on.

Couldn't you have
killed her off on page one?

- Couldn't you have
killed Stephanella?

- He'd get too much hate mail.

- Besides, a-a great
murder mystery needs a butler

and a maid
is as good as a butler.

- Oh, really?
Can a butler do this?

- No, it didn't work for me.

- See?

- It's bad enough
you bludgeoned Johanna,

but then to dismember her
and drown her in the lake?

So you would be free
to run away

with the voluptuous
man-hungry librarian.

- Which--which
part didn't you like?

- Morning, everybody.
Great book, Dick.

But it left me
a little confused.

- How's that, George?

- How could Rick kill Johanna
if he was spotted

fishing for mackerel
in Caracas that same day

by 14 seafaring Venezuelans?

- He just looked like Rick.

- But all the sailors
called him Rick.

- Coincidentally,
his--his name was--was Rick.

- Ah! Huh!
Now it seems so obvious.

Sorry about page six.

- Thanks, George.

- By the way, it was
nice of you to mention me.

- You're not in my book, George.

- You can't fool me.

I'm Jorge,
the Bolivian handyman.

- George,
Jorge is a Bolivian Don Juan.

H-He's known for his
sultry flamenco dancing

a-and his wild sexcapades.

- That's me.
Don't you remember

what happened
at Harley's wake?

- Morning.
- Don't morning me, Dick Loudon.

What gall, describing me
as the town's

drunk and corrupt mayor.

- Chester,
it was just a fiction--

- I do admit I like
an occasional nip of sherry

when I listen to
my Arthur Thebla albums.

But this is an outrage.

- I, however, was deeply moved
and as the town librarian,

I've chosen
Murder at the Stratley

to be displayed as
the library's book of the week.

- In--in the glass case
un-under the big lamp?

Wow.

- However, there is one thing
you'll want to change

for future editions.

My eyes are not limpid pools
of emerald green.

My limpid pools
are azure blue.

- At least you weren't
bound and gagged

with a typewriter ribbon.

- Well, let's go, Miss Goddard.

I don't want to be late
for my wine tasting group.

Today we're sipping
white zinfandels.

- Sorry about page six.

- I guess you're right, Dick.

It's just a fictional story
about people you made up.

- All right, all right, have it
your way.

I-It's true.

I'm a cold blooded killer,
I lust after Ms. Goddard

a-and George is a Bolivian
flamenco dancer. Okay!

- Oh, that Dickie
is mucho loco, no?

- Miss Goddard?

- I haven't seen you at
the library lately, Stephanie.

Reading is fundamental,
you know.

- Not when you get by
on your looks.

What are you doing here?

- I was waiting for Dick.

Do you know
when he'll be back?

- Well, I didn't know
he was out.

I've been in my bubble bath
all evening.

- Perfect place to read.

- It's pretty hard to read with
cucumber slices on your eyes.

- Wow, it's raining kitties
and cockers out there.

- Hi, Michael.
- Hi, Steph.

Hi.
Miss Goddard?

- Michael, you still owe
late fines

on those Greek statue books.

- I've been a little lonely.

I came by strictly as a friend,
of course, because I know

how deathly afraid you are
of thunder and lightning.

- You're the one who's afraid
of thunder and lightning.

- Steph, don't try to pawn off
your neuroses on me.

Make it stop.
Make it stop.

- Michael, it's just thunder.

Mother used to say
it was angels

kickboxing little girls
who don't read.

- Yeah, when you
think of it like that,

it's not so scary.

- Oh, that's childish.

Let's do what we used to do.

- Dick, come sing with us.
- Shut up, Michael.

I was out in the rain
for two hours

trying to--trying to fix a flat,

and when I finally get
the lug nuts loosened,

some idiot drives by
and splashes mud all over me.

- Oh, was that you?

I would have stopped
but it was pouring.

- Where's Joanna?

- She's on a--on
a train to Albany.

Her mother's hip flared up.

Miss Goddard,
what are you doing here?

- Dick, I'm perfectly flattered
by your unbridled lust for me,

but you are a married man
and the town is talking.

Therefore, the flame
in your heart must be doused.

- Consider it doused.

- Hi, Dick.

Did you go somewhere?

I saw you putting
those two suitcases in the car,

but I never heard you leave.

- That's odd. In the book
it says Jorge the handyman

had ears so sharp,
he could hear a pig drop.

- That's supposed
to be "pin drop."

There're a couple
typos in the book.

- Okay, people,
buddy up and listen hard.

- Officer Shifflett.

- I'm looking for one
Joanna Loudon

aka mistress of the Stratley.

- The Stratford.
She is visiting her mother.

- I didn't know that.

- It seems an eyewitness,
my sharp-eyed offspring,

one Shelly Shifflett,

spotted your late model
Oldsmobile Cutlass

parked by Johnny Cake Lake
earlier this evening.

- That's not where
Joanna's mother lives.

- Of course not.
I was parked there.

I was--I was fixing a flat.

- Nice try, Alibi Ike.

That story has more holes
in it than, I don't know,

something with
a lot of holes in it.

When I arrived on the scene,
all I found was...

exhibit A.

- That's Joanna's sweater.

I mean, who else would wear
something like that?

- How did it get by the lake?

- It was in the trunk.
It's an old sweater.

I-I used it to wipe myself off

after Michael's car
splattered me.

- Funny, that's the same excuse
Rick tried to pawn off

on the dimwitted sheriff in
your little literary potboiler.

- Look, I-I told you before.
Joanna's on a train going--

- Trains aren't running
due to the storm.

- What?

- If you ask me,
the only choo-choo she's on

is pulling into
St. Peter's Station.

- What are you insinuating?

- Toot, toot, tootsie, goodbye.

- Dick, a murderer?
He couldn't murder anyone.

He's courteous.

- Thank you, George.
- See?

- 'Til proven otherwise,
I'm going to be all over you

like Chester on a bottle
of cabernet sauvignon.

- Officer S., couldn't there be
a reasonable explanation

why you would pull over
by the lake

and find her pullover
by the lake?

- Such as?

- Well, she could have been out

washing her clothes
against rocks.

[OVERLAPPING CONVERSATION]

- Or maybe she was
streaking through town

as part of a sorority
initiation.

- I told you she's on a train
going to Albany.

I-I'll call the station and
they'll tell you her train left.

The phone is dead.

- Thomas Hill Bridge is out,
Thomas Hill Bridge is out.

- So?

- I just thought
you should know.

- Thank you.

- Then how did you get here?

- Well, I drove
across the river.

It's only two inches deep.

What's going on around here?

- It seems Loudon went psycho
and rubbed out Joanna.

- Oh, no. She was
so young and beautiful.

- He didn't say me, Chester.
He said Joanna.

- Why would I murder my wife?

What--what possible motive
would I have?

- Well, in the book,

Rick killed Johanna
for insurance money

so that he and the librarian
could escape to Yugoslavia

for a life of lively dancing
and depravity.

- You have insurance, Loudon?

- Of course.

- Uh-oh.

- And if memory serves,
at the Library Jubilee

Miss Goddard
did a mean hokey-pokey.

- That's right, she could
really shake it all about.

- I may be a librarian,

but first and foremost,
I'm a woman.

- This--this is insane.

There's nothing going on
between Miss Goddard and me.

- Then how do you explain
her lively dancing

and your buying insurance?

- Gee, I don't know, Chester.

Ann Miller likes to dance.

You think I'm taking
her to Yugoslavia?

- Why don't you tell us?

- I'm on your side, Dick,
and I'm sure

you were just joking
this morning

when you told Joanna that
you lusted after Miss Goddard.

- Dick, you said that?

- Well yes, but--
- Jorge should know.

Remember,
he can hear a pig drop.

- Question:
Can you have a case

if you can't conjure up
a corpse?

- Answer: Beats me.

Where'd you pop
the cold one, Bluebeard?

- There isn't any cold one.

- I remember, it's at the bottom
of Johnny Cake Lake.

- That would explain
the two suitcases.

He cut her in half
and dumped her in the lake.

Sorry, Dick.

- Wait.
The book clearly says

he cut her into three pieces.

If there were only
two suitcases,

where's the third piece?

- And what's the third piece?

- I remember.
It's her head.

- Ew.

- In chapter eight,
when the dimwitted sheriff

found the sweater by the lake,
he said,

"What's that up the road...
a head?"

- That was another typo.

It's supposed to say,
"What's that up the road ahead?"

- Sure.
Blame the proofreader.

- I'm not blaming anybody.

No crime
has been committed here.

- Maybe not in your sicko world.

But in our town, you still
need a permit to murder.

Nobody touch anything.

We're going to
reconstruct the crime.

- I'll get the murder weapon.

- I'll get the refreshments.
Anyone for cocoa? Hands.

- I'm not feeding you people.

- A murderer
and a lousy host.

- Here it is.

[ALL GROANING]

- Sinister looking, isn't it?

- Now we need someone
to play Joanna,

the defenseless victim,

and someone to play Dick,
the demented killer.

Ms. Vanderkellen,
how would you like to be Joanna?

- [SCOFFS]
Not even for a laugh.

- And I should
disqualify myself.

I have more than
a nodding acquaintance

with the demented killer.

- Okay, we'll all just imagine
Joanna sitting on the sofa.

- My, she looks so pretty.

- Radiant.

- What a bunch of imbeciles.

- We still need someone to play
Dick, the demented killer.

- How about you, Dick?

- Not even for a laugh.

- Don't worry,
I'll prove your innocence.

I'll play Dick,
the demented killer.

- George,
remind me to fire you.

- As librarian
and the town's best oral reader,

I'll quote some appropriate
passages from the book.

"Rick moved ever so quietly,

"creeping up behind
his innocent wife,

"with 30 pounds
of metal and ribbon.

"Slowly, he lifted
the lethal hunt-and-pecker

"and bringing it down
in a swift swat,

"he hit her hard.

"He hit her real, real hard.

"So hard seagulls screamed
in another village."

- Ah... blood.

- Yuck.

- Oh, mama.

Explain this one, Rick.

- I-I can't.

- I'm sure there must be
a bazillion reasons

why there's blood
on that pillow.

- Sure. Maybe Joanna
was piercing her ears.

- Sure, she could be doing that.

- You don't own a pitbull,
do you?

- Dick, where did
that blood come from?

- I don't know.

- You have the right
to remain silent.

- Wait--wait a minute.

Doesn't a criminal
usually commit the crime

and then write the book?

- Correctomundo, unless Dick
had bludgeoned in the past.

- Dick, you've never been
married before, have you?

- Yeah George, 19 times,

and I killed
each and every one of them.

And I'm glad, I tell you.

I'm glad.
[LAUGHS HYSTERICALLY]

[SHOUTING]

CHESTER: Oh dear!
We're in the dark

with a murderer,
and he's got a gun.

STEPHANIE: A gun?
MS. GODDARD: Oh, no.

DICK: I don't have a gun.

CHESTER:
Well, he's got a typewriter.

He's bludgeoned before,
he'll bludgeon again.

[DOOR CREAKING]

STEPHANIE:
What was that?

JOANNA: Dick.

MICHAEL:
It sounded like Joanna.

DICK: Is that you, honey?

JOANNA:
I'm going to kill you, Dick.

[SHOUTING]

CHESTER: Merciful heavens,
it's the ghost of Joanna.

[SHOUTING]

MS. GODDARD:
And she's out for blood.

[SHOUTING]

MICHAEL:
Quick, anyone got a candle?

MS. GODDARD: I do.
You never know

when you're going to stumble
across a birthday cake.

GEORGE: Anyone got a match?

JOANNA: I do.

[SHOUTING]

- What the hell, Joanna?
Your hair looks like hell!

CHESTER: She's back
from the lake to kill us all.

[SHOUTING]

- Freeze, zombie.

- Michael.
- Steph.

Sorry, force of habit.

- Yeah, me too.

- What are you people doing?

- Well, we thought
Dick murdered you

and threw your lifeless body
in the lake.

- Thank God she's alive, Dick.

I couldn't picture you
in the big house as a boy toy.

- I want you all
to get out of my inn.

- And by the way, Dick,
thanks for your concern.

I hadn't even gotten up
to the ticket window

when you were burning rubber
out of the parking lot.

- Well, you know,
I mean, you know,

it was starting to sprinkle.

- Oh, shut up, Dick.

It's bad enough
I had to walk home,

but then some idiot
in a Toyota screaming,

"Thomas Hill Bridge is out"
splashed mud all over me.

- Oh, dear.

- Well, you may have squeaked
by on this one, Loudon...

but at dawn's next crack
I'll at Johnny Cake Lake,

trolling for those
19 other stiffs.

- Wait a minute.

If there's no murder, what
about the plasma on the pillow?

- I'm not cleaning it up.

- That's not blood.
That's Clamato juice.

- Oh, that would really
hit the spot right now.

Anybody for Clamato juice?
Hands.

- Nobody is drinking anything.
Get--get--get out of here.

- He may not be a murderer,
but he's still a lousy host.

- I'm sorry, the next time
I murder my wife,

I'll--I'll
order a-a deli platter.

- The next time
you murder your wife?

What do you mean, the next time
you murder your wife?

- Honey, it's been
a long, long night.

- Well, that was fun.

What do you want to do
tomorrow night?

- Get the hell out of here.

[APPLAUSE]

[♪♪♪]

- Meow.