All language subtitles for Murder She Wrote S03E07 Deadline for Murder 1080p BluRay FLAC2 0 H 264-NTb_Subtitles_3

Now look here, you
burned out has-been...

Burned out has-been?

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

What was it, an accident or what?

I always thought somebody
would murder him.

It, uh, could have been murder.

French fries are not a
part of your diet.

Don't you dare.

No, but you'd rather poison me with
chipped beef and tapioca pudding.

I read that article the
Sentinel printed about you.

The cops better get a hold of this
guy before I get my hands on him.

The search for the real Lamar Bennett

and who killed him.

That's our hook.
Our hook?

I don't care that she's
a dipso with 33 cats

and hasn't bathed in four months.

What I wanna read about is she's a
sweet, old widowed grandmother

whose greedy landlord kicked her out.

Billy, I can't believe that
you would pull this on me.

Now if I knew that you were
gonna trash my copy...

Now you can't tell me that
you wrote this tripe?

No, I rewrote your piece.

This is a morning paper,
Mr. Drake.

And I feel a certain responsibility

to avoid sending our
readers back to sleep.

[Drake] That happened to be

a superbly-handled interview, pally,

until your people turned it into
supermarket-checkout garbage.

I'm sorry about this,
Mr. Bennett.

Bennett? Bennett?

You're the guy who gobbled up
a dozen honest newspapers

and turned 'em into waste basket filler.

Goodbye, Mr. Drake.

Well, I'm not leavin',
Bennett.

Not until you guarantee me an
apology to the lady and in print.

Now look here, you burned out has-been.

The only reason you got
paid for that drivel

was because Billy here talked
me into throwing you a bone.

Burned out has-been?

Sally, get me an ambulance. Quick.

Is he still breathing?

Yeah, barely.

Get a photographer in here.
I want some pictures.

A coronary as massive as this

at his age is bad enough,

but he seems to have
lost the will to live.

I mean, it's unbelievable.

Three weeks ago, he was as feisty
and cantankerous as ever.

Keep it brief, Mrs. Fletcher, and calm.

Any excitement could bring
on another attack.

Yeah.

Hello, Haskell.

Hey. Huh.

What do you say there, kiddo?

What are you doing here?

You shouldn't be seein' me like this.

You always look good to me.
Oh.

The doctor tells me you're
doing very nicely.

Oh, oh, oh.

Dr. Doom?

He already has me ticketed

on a one-way to Slumberland.

No way. Another week and you'll
be out chasing another story.

Not me, kiddo.

I couldn't afford to recover
even if I wanted to.

Now look.

We've known each other too long

and over too many years
to beat around the bush.

Now I'm gonna take care of this bill,

and as soon as you're feeling better,

we're gonna move you
into a private room.

Oh.

No, no, Jessica.
I'm no charity case.

Of course not.

You can pay me back out
of your next assignment.

Now, what can I bring you?

Bring me Lamar Bennett's
head on a platter.

You know, he butchered that
interview that I had with you.

He called me a bum.
Haskell, hold on now.

You know, the last thing I
remember before I passed out,

he was askin' the photographer
to take some better shots.

Oh, good Lord.
Yeah.

And that's not all, that's not all.

Look, look what he did to you.
Look.

Look what he did.
Hmm.

[Jessica] That is ridiculous!

This was the Fourth of July party,

and I tripped over Howard
Bigelow's basket and spilled my cider.

Haskell, Haskell,
I want you to just rest, all right?

I've got an errand to run.
And I'll be back.

[Bennett] A story about a 14-year-old

whose grandparents couldn't
take care of her?

Who cares about that?
Miss Garrett,

do you mean to tell me
that that institution

doesn't have any small children,

kids who've been beaten or abused?

Of course they do.

But that's another story, not
the one I want to write.

L.B., I want Kay's story to run as is.

I'm sure you do, Walter,

but happily for the Sentinel,

your position as editor emeritus

no longer entitles you to
make those decisions.

Now, on the other hand, if
you feel strongly about it,

I would be delighted to finally
accept your resignation.

Now, wait a minute.

And your son's.

Well, there's no way we'll give you
that satisfaction, Mr. Bennett,

not in a hundred years.

Uh, do I hear 150? Say, 200?

Please. You can't go in there.

I'm sorry, Mr. Bennett.

That's quite all right, Edith.

Mrs. Fletcher, I believe.

Now this is a very rare privilege.

Forgive the intrusion,
Mr. Bennett.

This won't take much of your time.

You're here about the story.

On the contrary, I'm...

My dear lady, we have developed

a certain style here at the Sentinel.

One that depends less on facts
than a certain point of view.

Mr. Bennett,
I'm here about Haskell Drake.

I would prefer to talk
with you privately.

Oh, I'm sorry.
I have to leave now.

And I'll be out of town tomorrow.

Edith, would you try to book
us a few minutes next week?

Clyde, it's time for my medication.

Mr. Bennett, Haskell may
not be alive next week.

Stan, that basketball story
of yours just lays there.

The, uh, water, please.

The drug angle is just tired.
It's tired.

Now you find me something
with real heat.

L.B., we've gotta talk about
this dental-malpractice case.

Later.

Mr. Bennett, this will
only take a few minutes.

Uh, Clyde.

Mrs. Fletcher, we're having a
little celebration this evening.

Please, uh, come and join us.
We can talk then.

Very nice meeting you.

Mrs. Fletcher,
I'm Kay Garrett. How is Mr. Drake?

Not at all well, I'm afraid.

I'm sorry.

What you just saw in there?
Typical Lamar Bennett.

Ah, give it up, Kay, will you?

Mrs. Fletcher,
Perry Revere. Hello.

Look, babe, this situation
can't go on forever.

Just into our sunset years.

Perry, let's face it. I don't have
your infinite capacity for pain.

I'll see you at the banquet.

I've gotta try and talk
my dad out of going,

so he doesn't end up in the
bed next to Haskell Drake.

It was nice meeting you,
Mrs. Fletcher.

He's right.
Nobody wins with Bennett.

But I keep hoping.

The truth is, if I hadn't
stepped in when I did,

half the people in this room
here would be on unemployment.

His game plan isn't pretty,
but the guy knows

how to put points on the scoreboard.

Yes, and like so many others,

you continue to play for him, right?

Sports writing's all I know,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Besides, integrity doesn't
buy a whole lotta pastrami.

[Kay] Good evening.
Good evening.

Hello, Kay.
Excuse me.

Come on now.
What is with these long faces?

This is the first decent
financial statement

this old rag has had
since Granddad ran it.

Oh, yeah, Sis, and the old guy's
probably whirling in his grave.

You wanna give me a break, Perry.

You know, last year the dealer was
ready to take your Ferrari away.

Now you've got more money
than you know how to spend.

The same goes for you, Daddy.

[Perry] Take it easy, Ellie.

Dad's had a hell of a year trying
to keep Bennett in check.

An effort which has, I'm
afraid, been largely wasted.

Daddy, don't you think you oughta
lay off that stuff just a little.

Well, I'm sorry, darling.

We're supposed to be showing
our bright happy faces here.

Sober, I'm not sure
I can manage.

Well, Kay, how delightful.
You've brought Mrs. Fletcher.

Walter Revere, former owner and
publisher of the Sentinel.

Eleanor Revere, his daughter.

[Jessica] How do you do?
Very well, thank you.

[Walter] Mrs. Fletcher,

I want you to know how appalled I was

at what happened to Haskell Drake.

As I am, Mr. Revere.

Unfortunately, my views no longer
hold much weight at the newspaper.

These days I hardly rate a
visit from the coffee cart.

[Perry] If you're searching
for the great man,

I believe I saw him
holding court that way.

Thank you. Excuse me.

You're not suggesting that
I be held responsible

for Haskell Drake's medical bills.

No, of course not.
I'm concerned

about his mental well-being.

Haskell is an outstanding newspaperman,

who'd be an asset in any organization.

Mrs. Fletcher,
I am a publisher.

I am not a good Samaritan
for losers or has-beens.

A has-been?

No, Lamar,

he's a legend.

And frankly you're not fit to
sharpen the man's pencils.

My, my, my.
Aren't we letting it

all hang out this evening?

May I remind you, Walter,

that long before I
appeared on the scene,

your pathetic opinions mercifully
ceased to matter to your readers,

your staff or anyone else.

Oh, Mr. Bennett,
I'm so sorry.

Daddy, I...

Here, let me.

I'm so sorry.
I'm sure that Daddy...

Everyone!

Everyone,

may I have your attention
for a moment, please?

I want to make a little announcement.

As a matter of fact, a toast.

A toast to the departure

of our dear, distinguished
editor emeritus,

Walter Revere.

And with him, go the last vestiges,

happily, of the old,
moribund Boston Sentinel

and his brand of archaic journalism,

where so-called "tradition"
is a synonym for...

Fraud.

Don't listen...

Mr. Bennett.

Yeah, get me Billy Simms and hurry.

I wanna know how many fire companies,

how much damage and injuries,

names, gory details, the whole shot.

Billy, phone.

Joe, get a couple more
photographers down there. Quick.

It's Miss Garrett on five.
She says it's important.

Harry, who's covering the hospitals?

We got Berman at Memorial,

Gettis at General and Starbuck
on his way to Central.

You, get on your horse and get
down there and help 'em.

Yeah, Kay, you'll have
to give it to me fast.

We've got a big one burning
down at the dock.

Billy, I hate to give
it to you like this.

I really do. I'm sorry.

But Mr. Bennett just died.

He what?

I'm very sorry, Billy.

Uh, yeah. It's okay, kid. I, uh...

How'd it happen?

What was it, an accident or what?

He just suddenly turned red.

Then he seemed to have
trouble breathing.

Then he keeled over.
There'll be an autopsy.

I'll cover the medical
examiner's office.

Yeah.

Well, hold on a second, Kay.

Lou, hold page one for a remake.

Artie, get me a rewrite man, and quick.

Okay, kid.
Give me your lead.

I feel so sorry for Billy.

He and Bennett go back a long way.

Oh, yeah. Way back.

Clear back to when Billy
was just a hatchet boy.

It's just unbelievable.

Yeah, kinda makes you
wonder here you turn next

for your aggravation quota.

Listen, Mrs. Fletcher,

since death seems to have cheated us out

of that rubber-chicken dinner

they were gettin' ready to serve us,

why don't you let me buy you dinner?

I'm afraid I've lost my appetite,
but I'll take a rain check.

Tomorrow night if I'm still in town?

You're on.
Good.

Oh, anybody get a fix
on what did him in?

[Jessica] Well, it's just a guess,

but the symptoms looked to me

like a brain hemorrhage.

Hmm.
Well, he was lucky.

I always thought somebody
would murder him.

Actually, it, uh, could
have been murder.

What?

Oh, I'm sorry.

It's just my mystery
writer's mind at work.

You see, it is possible to
induce a brain hemorrhage

using a combination of
alcohol and certain drugs.

Well, that lets out all of us.
We're not that smart,

or else we wouldn't have been working
for him in the first place, huh?

Shut up,
Mr. Lassiter.

The man is dead.

Just keep quiet about him.

Okay, okay.
No offense, Clyde.

You always went around sayin'
bad things about him.

You, too, Miss Garrett.

You just couldn't let
yourself see the good side.

Maybe she just misplaced
her magnifying glass.

Clyde, leave him alone.
Stop it.

[Jessica] Yes, this is
Mrs. Fletcher, in 315.

Would you make up my bill, please?

Yes, I'll be leaving in a few minutes.

Thank you.

Lieutenant Caruso,
Boston PD.

That's Sergeant Tierney.
May we come in?

Oh, yes. Yes, of course.

Mrs. Fletcher,
I'll get right to the point.

The medical examiner
thinks Lamar Bennett

may have been murdered.

Really?
The newspaper says nothing...

That makes two of you.
What?

Last night you raised the
possibility of murder

while talking to a, uh...

Oh, yes, to Kay Garrett
and Stan Lassiter.

That was just conjecture,
Lieutenant.

You conject accurately.

The autopsy showed
methylthionate in his system.

Oh, dear.

And that mixed with alcohol, it, uh...

It caused a massive cerebral hemorrhage.

The coroner picked it
up from a blood test.

You work from a crystal ball,
Mrs. Fletcher?

Well, uh,

with all the research
that I do for my books,

my head has become
something of a storehouse

for extraneous information.

But of course, that's nothing
like the kind of knowledge

that you need in your job, Lieutenant.

I don't like being shined on,
Mrs. Fletcher.

I read that article the
Sentinel printed about you.

Not real flattering.

Well, surely you don't think
that that silly story

is sufficient motive for murder.

I deal in evidence, ma'am.
Facts.

And the chief fact
I have uncovered about you,

is you seem to know more about
this man's death than you should.

Facts?

All right, all right.
Let's talk about facts.

The glass that Mr. Bennett drank out of.

Surely that must've yielded
something useful,

like a fingerprint.

The glasses were washed before
anyone thought it could be murder.

Anyone but you,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Another fact
I seem to remember

methylthionate and alcohol
needn't be administered

at the same moment.

Funny.
That's the same thing

the medical examiner told me.

Bennett could've either
have the alcohol first

or the other way around.
Mrs. Fletcher,

I suggest you remain in Boston.

We may need you for further questioning.

I'm sorry, Lieutenant,

but I know nothing about
that man's death.

And after I have visited a
dear friend in the hospital,

I am returning to Cabot Cove.

Unless, of course, you feel
compelled to press charges

against me right now.

Tierney, get her home phone number.

[Eleanor] Do you believe it?

The police were on my doorstep
at 8:00 a.m.

Oh, don't worry, Sis.
They didn't single you out.

They came by for a statement
from me and from Dad.

[Eleanor] It's totally humiliating.

How can they possibly think

that I would have had anything
to do with his death?

[Perry] Oh, come on, Eleanor.

We were there.
We detested him.

Speak for yourself, brother dear.

All right, that's enough.
Both of you.

Listen to me.

I've decided to speak
with Bennett's executor

about buying back at least
enough of the Sentinel stock

to regain control.

Eleanor, I need your promise
you won't sell your shares.

Sell? Daddy, what do you
think I've been living on?

Lamar Bennett dead.

Well, it figures.

Excuse me, but, I mean a man
with his rotten disposition,

God would get him.

Well, God may have gotten a little help.

Murder?

The police seem to think so.

Lamar Bennett murdered.
Now there's a story, Jess...

Ah, ah, ah, Haskell,

calm down. Your heart.

What are you talkin' about?
My heart feels great.

Now wait a minute.
Look at this obit.

"Rags-to-riches, self-taught,
one-time salesman."

That's all surface.

I mean, who knew him
better than Billy Simms.

But that's Billy, loyal as hell.

Now what he doesn't say here,

that's the real house
number on Lamar Bennett.

Like, uh, who he stepped
on to get where he got.

You know, stuff like that.

Jess, I'm telling ya.
This is a story...

For goodness sakes,
Haskell, stay still.

Well, can't you see it?
This is a great story.

The big one.
I can feel it.

Jess, do me a favor.

Can't you stay a few days,
do some legwork for me?

Legwork?

Oh, don't be ridiculous.

Oh, come on,
Jess, please?

I mean, this story can put
me back in business.

The search for the real Lamar
Bennett, and who killed him.

That's our hook.
Our hook?

You remember that summer you worked

for the wire service,

and you did some research for me?

That empty oil tank storage swindle?

You had me running all over New England.

Yeah. And your head was all cluttered

with hearts and flowers
and Frank Fletcher, huh?

You wanted to be a teacher?

Ah, what the hell.
Forget it, forget it.

You weren't much help then anyway.

Are you kidding?
I was terrific.

You said so yourself.

I would've made a first-rate reporter.

Yeah, well, maybe.
Maybe?

On my worst day,
I was the best legman you ever had.

That's the way you remember it.

Haskell Drake, you are impossible.

You're ornery and
deceitful... and devious.

Yeah, and not to mention, manipulative.

Okay, come on.

Here's your first assignment.

I don't believe it.
All right?

I want a typewriter and lots of paper,

and, uh, a couple phones.

Oh, yeah, and bring me a box of cigars.

Who were you with just
after he was murdered,

and what was their reaction?

Well, come on, girl.
Start takin' notes!

[Kay] Come on, Karen.
Come on, Vernon.

Let's go.
Let's get on the bus.

All right, Kay.

Now maybe I could've been stronger
with Bennett, but damn it...

I'm sorry, Perry. I don't
mean to take it out on you.

Look, things are going
to be different now.

My dad's going to be back
running the paper soon...

Mrs. Fletcher.
Hi, how's Mr. Drake?

Oh, he's improving.
Miraculously in fact.

Oh, that's great.

Actually, he's starting a story,

and I'm... Well, I'm sort of
helping with the research.

Oh, no kidding.
What's it about?

Lamar Bennett.

I'll catch you later,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, I was hoping that you
could give me a few minutes.

Sorry, I've gotta pick up my laundry.

Later, honey.

He's not always that rude.

I guess you just hit a nerve.

Yes. Kay...

Maybe Perry's right for once.

The less said about
Lamar Bennett, the better.

Kay, a very dear friend of
mine is in the hospital.

He was ready to give up
and die two days ago.

Now he has a reason to live. This story.

Sure.
How can I help you?

Well, for starters,

how would you rate Lamar
Bennett as a newspaperman?

A very narrow sense of story.

A flair for the dramatic,

but no real feel for human interest.

Well, give me a "for instance."

I was working on this piece
about unwanted kids,

about the state's tendency
to leave them with parents

who abuse and neglect them.

Come on.
Let's get on the bus.

Anyway, Bennett said

the story wasn't sensational enough.

As I recall, you've
written several stories

about unwanted children, orphanages,

foster homes and so on.

You've done your homework.

It's hard to change the system.

I guess I was luckier than most.

You see, I was adopted
after only four years.

Hi, Julie.

I suppose I haven't been
much help, Mrs. Fletcher.

I guess
I'm just too close to it.

I gotta go. Oh,
I understand. Bye.

Bye.

Mr. Drake, you have got
to take your medication.

You are already two hours overdue.

And you can't smoke that cigar.

Listen, Phillips,
I'm on long distance. Do you mind?

Uh, yes, Sackett,
I think her name was.

Uh, right, right.
Okay, bye.

Uh, look, miss, try me in a
month, why don't ya, huh?

Better still, make it two.
Hello, you still there?

Yeah, I'm still here.
That's right.

A little bit of a thing.
Bee-stung lips.

[Phillips] He's all yours.
Sioux Falls?

Oh, good. Wait a minute. Hold it.

Good, good.

Mr. Drake...
Uh, excuse me, Doc.

Thanks.

Yeah, what is it?

Oh, Jess, what've you got?

I've got everything that
the Boston Public Library

has on Bennett, plus.

Oh great.
I'm trackin' down a lady

who worked as a society editor in
Tulsa, back in the dark ages.

Mr. Drake, you are a very sick man.

You can't be abusing...
Doc, here, take my pulse

if it'll make you feel better.

Anyway, Jess, if we find her, we're
gonna uncover a lotta bodies.

Now, listen to this.
The way I figure,

Bennett's last will and testament

might just give us the answer.

You know, find out who feels
they didn't get their due,

and you've got your killer.

Well, it may not be as simple as that.

I mean, Bennett's finances
were very shaky,

and he owed a lot of people.

Jessica, Jessica. That's what I got
from the Wall Street Journal.

I don't want dollars and cents.

I want a personal point of view.

Oh, she...
Oh, Doc, please, please.

So what'd you learn about Kay Garrett?

Well, apparently she and Perry Revere...

Uh, well, they're an item. Only he
seems more committed than she is.

Yeah? How much of an
item and for how long?

We need details, Jessica.
Facts.

Did Perry ever catch Bennett
making a pass at her?

Was she insulted he didn't make a pass?

Is Perry the jealous type?

Well, I suppose I...
Wait, wait, wait.

Wait a minute, wait a minute. We do
not suppose anything here, Jessica.

We are not writing a
novel here, Jessica.

Who, what, why, when, where?

I'll make a reporter outta you yet.

Where was I?
Where, where was I?

Where...

[Billy] Wait a minute.

You are asking me to quit?

For the good of the paper, Billy.

I mean if my dad takes over again.

Like it or not, around here,

you'll always be
Bennett's hired gun.

Perry,

I'm gonna do you a favor.

I'm not gonna take anything
you said personally.

But your dad has got as much
chance of gettin' back on top

as the Braves do of
comin' back to Boston.

Now, how about getting back to work?

Mrs. Fletcher.
Mr. Revere,

I know you're very busy,

but if you have a few
moments... Not now.

Guy's a nice enough fella. But
he'll never make a newspaperman.

You know, he doesn't have
that edge, that nose

to really dig into a story.

Really?
I'm Billy Simms.

And Lamar Bennett?
Did he have the nose?

I hear you're giving
Haskell a hand.

But don't expect me to
help you do an ax job

on a man who was pretty good
to me most of my life.

Oh, now, that is unfair.
Now, you know Haskell's work.

Now, he'll be a lot more impartial
than Mr. Bennett ever was.

Use the close-up, Sam, and
lose the background.

When I started with L.B.
25 years ago,

all I knew was writing ads.

He wasn't perfect, but he
taught me everything I know.

But as you said, he was "not perfect."

Hey, I didn't say I agreed
with all his decisions,

or the way he treated people.

Mr. Simms, do you think he was murdered?

I'm sure there are a lot of
people who've had the urge

at one time or another.

If you'll excuse me,
Mrs. Fletcher,

our editorial conferences is now.

Uh, just one other thing.

One, Mrs. Fletcher.

You reported, in the late edition,

that most of his estate had been left
to the Lamar Bennett Foundation.

Do you know of any personal bequests

that he might have made?

Yes, he left me a few bucks.

But as far as I know,
the only other heir

was Clyde Thorson.

Goodbye.

Well, hi,
Mrs. Fletcher.

I understand you've become
Haskell Drake's shoe leather.

Well, we're sort of working together.

Hey, well, don't expect any credit.

Drake wouldn't share a
byline with his mother.

When you have a chance, I'd love to hear
your thoughts about Lamar Bennett.

I never speak ill of the dead.

Only running backs with bad knees.

Well, the Bennett stock is not for sale,

not at any price.

Circulation's up, so Billy
Simms gets the job.

I can't believe it.

Believe it, Daddy.

You're really pleased
at this, aren't you?

Now, Daddy...
Just marvelous, Eleanor.

I guess I haven't been
terribly realistic,

thinking I could count
on you for support.

Daddy, realistic,

is the fact that the Sentinel
is now making a fat profit.

And if I take it over, it won't.

Well, I'm sorry, Daddy,

but I have a whole new lifestyle

that is riding on the price
of the Sentinel stock.

Oh, Mr. Thorson?
Mrs. Fletcher.

I don't wanna talk to
you because I heard

what you and Mr. Drake

are tryin' to do to Mr. Bennett,

makin' him a bad person.

Mr. Thorson, if that were true,

I'd only question people
who disliked him.

Whew.

I know that if someone left me $25,000,

I'd feel just terrible,

people saying negative about them.

Yes, ma'am.

So, I don't suppose that
anything could pay for...

How long was it,16 years
of total loyalty?

My goodness.

Out of all the millions that he owned,

that doesn't seem like so very much.

Mr. Bennett must have had his reasons.

You know, some people are saying

that his death could have been suicide.

No way, ma'am.
Not for Mr. Bennett.

And I wanna tell you somethin' else.

If it was murder,

the cops better get a hold of this guy

before I get my hands on him.

You see, Mr. Bennett was like a
father to me if I'd ever had one.

I understand that you
were raised by an aunt

on an Oklahoma farm.
Is that true?

Yes, ma'am.

I was down in the Oklahoma oil
fields when Mr. Bennett found me.

I was a washed-up football
player, just lookin' for work.

Excuse me, ma'am. I just don't wanna
let the ticker slow down too much.

Oh, no, no, no.
Of course not.

Uh, just one last thing.

Uh, you seemed to be in charge
of his sinus medication.

You don't suppose that someone
could've tampered with those pills?

No way, ma'am.

The cops asked me the same thing.
And they took what was left.

Good day, ma'am.

[Jessica] So, in spite of the increase

in circulation and advertising,

the costs went up too, which in a way
explains Bennett's financial problems.

Whoa, whoa, hold it, hold it.

Where's your lead paragraph?

Well, I'm coming to that.

Well, before you do, they'll be
reading the vitamin content

off their cereal boxes.

Haskell, will you stop treating
me like a two-year-old?

You know, it's all beginning
to come back to me now.

Why I chose to marry Frank

instead of pursuing a
newspaper career with you.

Uh.

Yeah, hello, Mrs. Marcus.
Yeah, that's right.

The society editor from Tulsa.
Finally tracked her down.

Guess where?
Minneapolis, for God's sake.

Yeah, yes, hello.
Well, say that again?

Uh, when was that?

Uh-huh.

Hmm-mm.

Are you sure?

You're not sure.
She's not sure.

Uh, well, thank you,
Mrs. Marcus.

There's more? Hmm.

Well, thank you, Mrs...

No, I am interested, but not just now.

Uh, bye, Mrs. Marcus.

Well...

A couple of more minutes and
I'd have enough to blackmail

half the people in Tulsa.

Okay, now.

You ready?
Here's the skinny.

About 23, 24 years ago,

Bennett has an affair with a local lady,

an Olivia Kimmell.

Rumor has it that the
lady got with child.

Maybe yes, maybe no.

Either way, a short time later,

Miss Kimmell ups and dies.

Which means that if there was a child...

Bennett sure wasn't
accepting responsibility,

even if he knew about it,
which maybe he didn't.

Haskell, there are an awful lot
of maybes in your scenario.

Yeah, but Jessica,
I can smell it.

We've got something here.

All right.
Try this on for size.

The kid gets adopted, grows up,

discovers that Bennett is his
father, his real father.

Bennett refuses to acknowledge
him, the kid kills him.

I know maybe it sounds crazy, but...

Maybe not as crazy as you think.

Jessica?
What is it?

Haskell,

I really don't want to
think what I'm thinking,

but Kay Garrett spent the
first four years of her life

in an orphanage on the
outskirts of Tulsa, Oklahoma.

[Caruso] Mrs. Fletcher,
forget it. You're wrong.

The lab workup indicates that
Bennett's sinus medicine

was just that, sinus medicine.

Now if you will excuse me...

If I could just have a look
at the coroner's report.

What for?

Mrs. Fletcher, why don't you
just go back to Cabot Falls,

and leave this...
Cabot Cove.

And look, whether you believe me or not,

I am not trying to step on your toes.

No?

Everybody else is.

You like these?

Some ex-jock can hang a
dead fish on the wall

or maybe what's left of a moose
who didn't move fast enough.

That's okay. But when I
bring in a few geraniums,

you can hear the snickers
all the way to Brockton.

I know the feeling.

Which is why I, especially, have to toe
the line when it comes to the regs.

Regulations.
We've got it, Lieutenant.

Oh, hello, Mrs. Fletcher.

It was murder, all right.

Forensics found traces of
the drug and the alcohol,

along with Bennett's blood,
on her handkerchief.

Whose handkerchief?
Eleanor Revere's.

The one she used to dab the
cut on Bennett's cheek.

We found it in her laundry basket.

Are you saying that Eleanor Revere

murdered Lamar Bennett?

In cahoots with her father.

Walter Revere strikes the
victim, draws blood,

then Eleanor dips her hanky into a glass

containing the methylthionate
alcohol solution,

dabs it on the open wound...

It mixes with the alcohol
already in his system,

and ten seconds later, it's all over.

You know, it is possible
that the methylthionate

was already in his bloodstream.

But not terribly likely when you
consider the Revere family motives.

Nicely choreographed right out in
the open. Who'd have thought?

Come on, Sergeant.
Let's bring 'em in.

Glad I caught you,
Lieutenant.

Gotta get your autograph
on these little beauties.

Mm-hmm.

Bottom of the blue one there...

Uh, yellow one there.
Mm-hmm.

And initials there. You type
a nice report, Officer.

Anybody ever read this stuff?

Not that I know of, ma'am.

I think it goes straight to the files.

Well, I'm heading over
to the Revere place.

Mrs. Fletcher, if you
come up with any reason

you think I'm trudging down the wrong
road, I'd like to hear about it.

But don't send me smoke rings, okay?

I want evidence.
Hard evidence.

Otherwise, you're just wasting my time.

Thank you,
Mrs. Falucci.

Al, that's it for today,
dear. Thank you.

Okay.

You know, I've got no business
doin' this, Mrs. Fletcher.

But here you are.
The donors from the Sentinel.

AB-negative being as rare as it is,

we're so delighted to get some

even if it was just the pint
we got from Miss Garrett.

Thanks very much.

[Haskell] It fits. Kay Garrett's
gotta be Lamar Bennett's daughter.

But I don't believe that she
would have killed him.

Oh, come on, Jessica.
It's the classic

Greek tragedy, kid.

I mean, she confronts him and
says, "Hi, Daddy, it's me."

He says, "I don't know what
you're talkin' about."

You know, people tend to take that
sort of rejection kinda hard.

Yes, but I was with her

from the moment that the
editorial meeting broke up

until the moment that he died.

Mr. Drake.

French fries are not a
part of your diet.

Don't you dare.

No, but you'd rather poison
me with chipped beef

and tapioca pudding, right?

At least take your medication.

Okay.

You know, Jessica, you yourself told me

that alcohol and methyl-whaddyacall-it,

doesn't have to be taken
at the same time.

Oh, it's terrible.

Just so long as they mix
in the bloodstream

and trigger off the brain hemorrhage.

Now,
I mean, uh,

Kay could've slipped it to him

before you got to the Sentinel.

Besides, she had a hell
of a better motive

than Walter and Eleanor.

What're you after?

This. The bulldog edition.

Haskell, what time does
this go to press?

Well, it depends. Uh,
if you want it on the street by 10:15,

you gotta put the paper to bed
by 8:30, 8:45 the latest.

Now, you know, there was a time

I saved the day, of course.

Jessica!

Thank you.

It's a clipboard. About,
uh... About so big.

It contains all of our
donor information.

I mean, everything for
the past two months.

Dr. Rashnishi is going to
have a fit if he finds out.

Well, it could mean my job.

Oh, incidentally,
I don't recall you giving blood.

Well, I would've,

but I got this thing about needles.

Ah, thank you.

Mrs. Fletcher?
Oh.

Mr. Simms. I thought you'd finished up
the early edition and, uh, gone home.

What're you doing here?
Well, uh, I...

I was just looking for a little
background on Mr. Bennett.

What's this about?

I told you...
I know what you told me.

Don't try to con a newshound,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Especially one with a
lot of miles on him.

Kay Garrett.

You've known her for a
long time, haven't you?

No, I met her two years
ago, when I hired her.

I don't think so, Mr. Simms.
I think you've known Kay

since the day that she was born.

I think you also know
Lamar Bennett was her father.

Who told you that?

You brought Kay on to the Sentinel

in the hopes of bringing them together,

somehow making an honest man of Bennett.

You make a pretty good
reporter, you know?

Yeah, I knew it.

I was disappointed the way
that he brushed her off.

I think you were more than disappointed.

I think you were angry.

For 25 years, you've been angry.

Until finally you couldn't
handle it anymore,

and you had to kill him.

Oh.

Mrs. Fletcher, that is
just plain horse manure.

I mean, he died at the
banquet. I was where, here?

Fourteen blocks away, getting
out the bulldog edition.

Yes, but Mr. Bennett
was actually murdered

in two different places.

The most lethal half of the dose
was administered right here,

during the editorial meeting.

That's when you gave him the pill
containing the methylthionate.

Now you're really blowin' smoke.

The only pill that Bennett took

was from Clyde's bottle
of sinus medicine.

Yes, that's what
I'd assumed, Billy,

until a short time ago.

When I saw how easily
Haskell Drake

fooled his nurse into believing

he'd taken his pills by
simply palming them.

Oh, man.
In the editorial conference,

you knew it was nearly time for
Mr. Bennett's medication,

so you sent Clyde Thorson out
of the room on an errand.

Naturally,
Clyde left the pill bottle.

And when Mr. Bennett
requested his medication,

you obliged by appearing to
dump the tablet into his hand.

But instead,

you slipped him the methylthionate pill

you had already palmed.

Then, it was simply a matter of
Mr. Bennett going out to the banquet

and when he consumed
something alcoholic,

the poisonous solution was
formed, inside his body.

Well, there's no evidence of that.

Oh, but there is.

If you'd actually been
giving him a sinus pill,

that medication would've shown up
in his bloodstream. It didn't.

You can't prove anything.

There's more,
I'm afraid.

In your story about
Mr. Bennett's sudden death,

you stated the cause of death
was a cerebral hemorrhage.

That's what it was.

Yes, but that fact wasn't known
till the autopsy was completed

about an hour after the bulldog
edition was on the street.

Unless you knew in advance the effects

of the methylthionate
and alcohol together.

Kay told me how he died when
she phoned in the story

just before we went to press.

That's not true.

I was there.

He just suddenly turned red. Then he
seemed to have trouble breathing.

Then he keeled over.
There'll be an autopsy.

Okay.

Okay, okay.

Oh, god.

I did it. About...

About three weeks ago,

I tried to work up the courage
to tell him who Kay really was.

I kept putting it off
because I was afraid.

When I finally screwed
up my guts to tell him,

and he told me, warned me never ever
to mention it again to anyone.

I watched her grow up,
Mrs. Fletcher.

I saw her turn into a fine young woman.

She's bright and talented
and independent.

I figured she deserved his recognition.

Then Kay doesn't know?

Her mother, Olivia,

she was the only one who could
ever stand up to Bennett.

He offered to marry her.
She turned him down.

Must have transferred his
hatred for her on to Kay.

He told me to fire her, discredit her.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.

I...

I sold out my whole life to that man.

But well, you...
You get to a point

where you just can't
take that final step.

I knew if I stuck with you long enough,
you'd show me who did it, Mrs. Fletcher.

No, Clyde. Don't.

I don't wanna hurt you.
You just stay outta this.

Killing Mr. Simms won't
make you feel better.

Billy.

Billy, he treated you good,

treated me good.

[Jessica] Did he really, Clyde?

If you heard Billy confess to the
murder, you also heard why.

You know how many people he's hurt,

not just the victims of his stories,

but the people who were close to him.

Like Kay and Billy.

He never hurt me.

Please believe me.

I understand how you feel,

how much you loved the
good thing about him,

but admitting the truth doesn't mean
you can't keep those memories.

Mr. Bennett's gone, Clyde.

It's time to get on with your life.

Let the courts punish
Mr. Simms.

[Jessica] Perry and his father are
back in command at the Sentinel.

Walter has promised to stay out
of Perry's editorial domain

and do what he does best,
which is reporting.

Oh, and Eleanor is coming on
board to learn the business.

Wonderful.
Are you finished?

No.

Kay has finally come to terms

with the fact that Lamar
Bennett was her father.

I think she and Perry are
going to be married.

You know one of these days I have the
feeling she's going to run for office.

All right, now I'm finished.

Now, hold on to your hairdo.

Our story on Lamar Bennett

has been picked up by Worldwide.

That's fantastic.

Quiet.
I'm not finished yet.

I have been offered a big
overseas assignment

in Hong Kong, Singapore and Bangkok.

Oh.
By Newsmonth, no less.

Haskell, that's marvelous.
When?

Oh, well, um, as soon as
you hand me my trousers.

And by the way, you can tag
along if you want to.

I figure that, uh, a couple
of years of hard work,

who knows, you may turn into
a half-decent newspaperman.