All language subtitles for Murder She Wrote S03E12 The Corpse Flew First Class 1080p BluRay FLAC2 0 H 264-NTb_Subtitles_3

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

One of you is a murdering thief.

I never should have let you
and Bert get me into this.

I don't suppose you'd be
interested in selling?

You're joking.

Just as I thought. The bluish
tinge under the fingernails...

Poison.

Scotland Yard is already present.

I'm not a screenwriter.

Writing is writing. I'll even
squeeze you in as an investor.

This is Jessica Fletcher. I'm
about 5,000 feet over London.

Would you listen carefully?
Time is precious.

Breathtaking.

All eyes will be on you
at the Royal Gala

in London tomorrow evening,
Miss Greer.

Well, that's the whole idea.

Who says the Brits have a
monopoly on crown jewels?

I'll go see if the forms have arrived
from your insurance company.

Try not to lose it.

Yes, Miss Greer.

An hour ago, they bought plane tickets.

Now they've just left the bank vault.

No, they never spotted me all week.

They're headed for Logan Airport.

We're delighted you're flying with us,
Miss Greer.

If I may be of any service...

Be sure the food's hot,
and the drinks are cold.

We'll get along famously.

Of course. We should be
boarding in about 20 minutes.

Sonny, hey, dear heart!

Clint, darling!

Well, I haven't seen you since when?

The symphony fund-raiser.

You on the Champagne
Supper to London?

Transatlantic house call.

I'm, uh, flying over to nip and
tuck ten years off Lady Burbury.

Sonny, I'd starve if
the world were filled

with such ageless beauties as you.

Chin up, in 20 years when
it all starts to fall.

I'm in the yellow pages.

By the way, is it true what I read

in Town and Country the other day,

you're going to the Royal Gala?

I wish I knew how those
busybodies in the press

know my plans before I do.

Leon!
Okay, friend, that's enough.

Hey, what do you think you're doin'?

Hey, are you crazy?

Look, I'm just trying to make a living.

Oh!

I'll deposit him with
Security, Miss Greer.

I'm so sorry.

But with Madonna out of the
country, someone has to be shot.

Oh, that's quite all right.
I understand.

Come on, Doc.
Buy me a drink.

I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean
to bump into you like that.

Oh, no harm. I think he
gave you the worst of it.

Well, I lost a couple of
shrimp puffs along the way.

Let me take that for you.
Thank you.

Errol Pogson.
Oh, Jessica Fletcher.

How do you do?

Who was the, uh,

film star he was after?

Oh, that is Sonny Greer.

The infamous
Miss Greer.

It's not only we British who
have pampered heiresses.

I love your country. I've
just been on holiday here.

I'm on my way home.

And I'm on my way to start
a holiday in London.

Well, sort of a holiday.

Actually, I'm doing research
on a rather grizzly murder

that took place in Northumberland
at the turn of the century.

It sounds macabre.
You must be a writer.

Of course you're a writer.

Jessica Fletcher.
J.B. Fletcher.

Errol, you are a dunce. It was
precisely three years ago

that you were rummaging
through our files

just, uh, two floors below my office.

Then you are with Scotland Yard.

Yes, but...

And a 25-year man to boot.

Uh, your lapel pin.

Um, who was the person you
were working with then?

Inspector Crimmins.

Roger, that's right. From the
Knightsbridge District.

Uh, Mrs. Fletcher,
I know I'm three years too late,

but, uh, please, would you
join me in a sherry?

Oh, thank you. I'd love to.

I think we've got time.
I'll be right back. All right.

Mr. Gunnar Globle, white
courtesy telephone please.

Uh, two medium dry sherries, please.

Transatlantic Flight 111 to
London Heathrow Airport,

now boarding.

Mr. Otto Hardwick,
courtesy phone please.

Otto Hardwick.

Flight 111 to London, now boarding.

Operator, I was cut off.

I'm talking to my
secretary on the Coast.

Doris, look, um,

tell Burt to stop being a nag.

Tell him I've got to be in London for
the premiere of my new picture,

and I cannot go skydiving
with he and Clint.

Who else called?

Joan? Joan who,
Collins or Rivers?

Oh, my wife! Joan! I love
her. Tell her I love her.

Yes.

Sonny, how are you?

Gunnar Globle.
You remember me.

You were skiing at Bobby
Redford's resort, and I picked you up.

I beg your pardon?

When you fell.

Yes, the man in the green plaid parka

with the white sunscreen
all over your nose.

That's me. Yeah.

Listen, Sonny,

I'm only offering pieces in my
next film to a few people.

Uh, $100,000 is the minimum
per piece. What do you say?

How many pieces
do you have left?

Thank you, Mr. Pogson.
Oh, Errol, please.

Cheers.
Cheers.

Final boarding for Flight 10 to London

is now boarding at Gate number one.

That's us.

Come on, let me be your bodyguard,

just in case some well-read paparazzi
decides to start chasing you.

Enjoy your flight.

May I take your coat?

Yeah, thank you.

Thanks, pal.

Welcome aboard.

Thank you.
1 -A.

Non-smoking section, right this way.

There you are, ma'am.
And there you are, sir,

just in front.

Well, we're neighbors, eh? How about
a, uh, coffee upstairs after dinner?

Oh, good idea.

Out.

This is out.

This is terrible.
You call this writing?

The picture business...
You work 24 hours a day.

I'm Gunnar Globle. I single-handedly
produced Off-road Aliens.

I must have missed that one.
Jessica Fletcher.

Excuse me, Mrs. Fletcher,

but I really enjoy your work,

and if there's anything we can do to
make your trip more pleasurable,

please don't hesitate to ask.

Oh, that's very nice. Thank you.

Level with me.
Are you anybody?

I'm a writer.

A writer?

Thank you, God.
Even for me, you listen up.

Here. I'll make a deal with your
agent when we get to "Fogtown."

Don't ask me what's wrong
because everything is wrong.

We need more action, more
explosions, more...

"Off-road Aliens:
The Second Coming."

Uh, oh, no.

Don't say no.
I hate that word.

I'm not a screenwriter.

Writing is writing. I'll even
squeeze you in as an investor.

Mr. Globle, I may not be good enough
a writer to work on your script.

You must be a good writer.
You're flying first class, aren't you?

Miss Fletcher, listen,
I'm the greatest deal-maker

in the history of Hollywood.

Believe me, you will say yes
to this great opportunity

even if it takes me all the way
to London to talk you into it.

Yeah. Well, uh, in that
case, I, uh, guess I...

I will read it.

Uh, but no promises.

Don't worry. Once you get
into it, you'll get hooked.

Ma'am, may I store that above you?

No.
It's my knitting.

She's a knitter.

Give the wife a length of rope,

and she'll knit you a noose.

This is
Captain Whetsel speaking.

On behalf of the entire crew,

I'd like to welcome you to our
Boston-to-London Champagne Supper Flight.

We should be taking off
in just a few minutes.

Thank you.

It's not workin'.

Maybe it's the batteries.

I put fresh ones in this morning.

My God, we're taxiing.

Oh, Darling, it's going to be all right.

Sonny,
I... I can't do this. I gotta get off.

Leon, it is safer than being in a car.

Then let's drive to London.

Ladies and
gentlemen, this is your captain.

We are now airborne en route to London.

Thanks for flying with us.

Miss.

As soon as you're able,
would you please bring

Mr. Bigard a glass of water?

It'll just be a moment.

I'm gonna use the gent's room.

Excuse me.
You go right ahead.

May I get you a cocktail, sir?

Yes, please. I'll have a
medium dry sherry if I may.

There you go.

White knuckler?

Yeah. I'll live, I guess.

You didn't lose it, did ya?

I got it right here.

Oh, uh, miss, I asked for a
white wine with my Dover sole.

Oh, right.

It's white with fish.

I think she's running on empty.

Yes, she does seem a bit distracted.

Perhaps she's got a lot on her mind.

Thank you.

So, how's the market?

I'm keeping liquid.
Speaking of liquid,

can I get you a drink?
No, no, thanks. I'm fine.

You know, one of the local channels

reported you'd be wearin' the
Empress Catherine necklace to the Gala.

Is that true?

Oh, what's the sense of owning
some gaudy little bauble

if you can't show it off?

Gaudy bauble.

I don't suppose you'd be
interested in selling?

You're joking.
Not at all.

A group of doctor friends and I are
looking for an investment package.

Good Lord, Clint.

What would my beloved ancestors say when
I meet them in the great upstairs?

It's been in the family
since Bunker Hill.

Well, at least I can tell my
partners we made the offer.

This is your captain.

We're experiencing a little turbulence.

Please fasten your seat belts.

Be careful.

Don't you tell me to be careful.

It was your idea.

I never should have let you
and Bert get me into this.

Here he comes.

Sir, your seat belt.

Sir.

Sir, your seat...

It may have been a heart attack
or a stroke. I can't be sure.

Miss, did he say he felt ill?
Any distress at all?

He was a nervous flyer, but
we see that every day.

Where's Miss Greer?

I was with her earlier upstairs.

The captain went up to tell her.

Captain, it's just not possible.

The man simply closed his
eyes to take a nap.

Sonny, he's been dead an hour.
Maybe longer.

Nothing can be done.

He just wanted to close his eyes

instead of watching the film.

Clint, how can a thing like this happen?

Cardiovascular catastrophe
is rare in a young man,

but they do occur.

I don't want anyone leaving first class.

The news of this tragedy is best

if it doesn't go beyond this
section of the aircraft.

Come and sit over here,
Miss Greer.

Go get a gurney.

We're all so very sorry.

If there's anything
I can do...

Thank you.

I suppose it's obvious.

He was more to me than just an employee.

The press hasn't been exactly
kind to either one of you.

"Flash bulletin: It's Sonny and her
chauffeur at it again. Film at 11 ."

To keep up appearances,
he became my bodyguard.

Miss Greer, was he always so
obviously nervous and tense?

Only when it came to plane trips.

Odd.

That cassette player malfunction
really sent him over the edge.

A psychiatrist made Leon
a relaxation cassette,

and it's helped him on a dozen flights.

I see.

Excuse me, Miss Greer.

I'm going to take
Mr. Bigard upstairs.

Wait. Please.

He was, um, carrying something.
It'll be safer with me.

Maybe he moved it.

What is it,
Miss Greer?

He had it with him before the movie.

It's gone. It's stolen!

Stolen?
What's stolen, madam?

Good Lord, the Empress
Catherine necklace?

Yes.

I... I gather that this
necklace is of some value.

To me. It's worth at least
two or three million.

This was no heart attack.

One of you killed him
to get the necklace.

One of us?
Sonny, please.

One of you is a murdering thief.

Well, one thing is obvious.

It certainly hasn't flown
out of the window.

And there's a murderer on
this plane who has it.

London's two hours off.
Mr. Carney, radio Heathrow.

I want Scotland Yard standing by before
anyone can leave this aircraft.

No calls will be necessary, Captain.

Scotland Yard is already present.

You... You're the police?

It seems my holiday will be cut short
a bit sooner than I expected.

Well, I think we're all very grateful

that you're on board,
Inspector.

Correction.
All of us but one.

I think the first and perhaps
the most obvious question

to ask is, who knew that the necklace
was being carried on board?

Wait just a moment.

You knew
I was flying with it.

All those questions...

Inspector, it was no secret
that she was going to wear

the Empress to the Gala.

I read something about it myself

in yesterday's
Boston Sentinel.

Miss Greer, was the necklace insured?

And are you with Scotland Yard too,
Mrs. Fletcher?

Miss Greer, uh,

Mrs. Fletcher's question
was quite natural.

And, frankly, I think you'd
best prepare yourself

to answer quite a few more.

Yes. I'm sorry!

The Empress is insured, of course.

And I'd collect quite a
sum if it is stolen.

But quite frankly, I'm worth too much
to swindle an insurance company.

Yes.

Well, I think we'd better first begin
by making a preliminary search

of all of the first-class passengers,

the areas above and below your seats,

and all of your carry-on baggage.

Not mine, you don't,
Mr. Scotland Yard.

I'm an American citizen
flying on an American plane.

Yes, and flying over
international waters.

And with the captain's approval,
I do have the authority.

You have my full support, Inspector.

Naturally, I can't do as thorough a
job here as I could on the ground,

but if the necklace does
not turn up by the time

the wheels touch the tarmac,

then I shall instruct Scotland
Yard to seal off this aircraft

and detain all of you at
Heathrow until we do find it.

Now what do we do?

Detained? I've gotta make
connections to Budapest.

We'll do our best then, won't we?

If there's anything
I can do to help...

Oh, Jessica,
I would welcome it.

The, uh, fact is, I'm a bit
up in the air at the moment.

No pun intended.

I'm not so sure about that.

Twenty-five years.

Twenty-five years of playing
it oh-so-very carefully.

Nothing rash or hasty
for good old Pogson.

While, of course, all the
younger chaps came up

and latched onto all the big
cases and got promoted over me.

Jessica, if I could get off this plane

with both the necklace and the
killer, it could mean...

Well, it could mean promotion
to chief inspector.

Damn it.
I've got to go for it.

Um, ladies and gentlemen,

Mrs. Fletcher is going to
assist me in my search.

Uh, it's nothing personal,

but since it is my
necklace that's missing,

shouldn't everyone be searched?

Oh, yes, and we're going
to begin with me.

All right.

Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Miss Greer, there is just one question.

When Mr. Bigard boarded the plane,
was he, uh, suspicious of anyone?

He would have told me if
he were. He said nothing

other than the necklace
was in his pocket.

Inspector,

that movie producer-

He seemed very anxious to get his hands
on some cash for his next endeavor.

Of course, being a producer
doesn't make him a thief.

Not automatically.

Pardon me.

Excuse me, I didn't mean
to eavesdrop, but I...

Uh, you are Mr...

I'm John Sugahara.

Inspector, the Empress Catherine

is too well-known to be sold as is.

If I were the thief,

I'd sell the stones separately
on the European black market

and perhaps net a million
and a half for my labors.

If you were the thief?

In 1980, I cut the Cape Town diamond.

Flawlessly, some say.

If you'd care to search me now.

Excuse me.

Oh, Mr. Carney, would you mind?

I need to look at the deceased.

Oh, well, like the captain
said, you and the Inspector

have our full support.

Well, there doesn't appear
to be any sign of a wound.

He died very quietly.

If it was murder...

Ah, just as I thought.

Ma'am?

The bluish tinge under
the fingernails...

Poison.

How can I get a look...

at the seating chart, the,
uh, the boarding passes,

the ticketing records?

Well, just knock on the cockpit door.

We keep 'em in there.
Thank you.

Let me have your carry-on
pieces, please.

I'm hoping to make a
connecting flight to Berlin.

Well, I'm hoping to
detain just one person.

Inspector.

All right.

And don't you go anywhere.

What is it, Jessica?

Look, I know you haven't finished
searching the passengers yet,

but I came across something here
that might cut a few corners.

The ticket records.
Right.

Mm-hmm.
You see the date down here?

Now, Sonny purchased her ticket at the
Liberty Tree Travel Service today.

So only the passengers who booked
their flights as late as today

could have been on the
trail of that necklace.

Hmm.

Well, Dr. Strayhorn booked
his ticket a month ago,

the Metcalfs 10 days ago,
Mr. Hardwick two days ago,

you a week, and me three weeks ago.

And Mr. Sugahara bought his ticket
at the ticket counter today.

But I've already searched him.

Well, I'll search him
again if I have to.

Thank you very much, Jessica.

Errol, Errol, wait.

We've been concentrating so
much on the passengers,

we may have overlooked something.

What, the crew?
Uh-huh.

Now, look here. That's our stewardess,
Kay Davis.

Now she made a last-minute
switch with another girl

so that she could take this flight.

You know, she did seem
sort of preoccupied,

and her beverage service
left much to be desired.

Oh, yes. She stuck me
with a tomato juice.

Well, Miss Davis is either
brand new to the job...

Or something is distracting her.

That's mine, Inspector.

Uh, Captain,
I don't want to seem nervous about this,

but who's flying the plane?
Automatic pilot.

Oh.

And this? Uh, that's mine, Inspector.

How long have you been with
the airline, Miss Davis?

Two years.

Mrs. Fletcher found out that you
switched with another girl

at the last minute to take this flight.

May I ask why?

Well, the man I'm going with is
a pilot for another airline.

He's flying into London this weekend.

I can see how romance would weigh
heavily on a young girl's mind.

What's his name?

Bernard Hollings.

Bernie? Bernie's been
seeing me in Paris.

What?

He swore he was only dating me!

Come on, girls, you calm yourselves.

Your pilot Bernie's alibi is airtight.

But, Kay, yours is not.

Wait a minute.
That isn't mine.

A two-million dollar necklace.

And you're right, young
lady, it's not yours.

I think you've got a great
deal of explaining to do.

I hope this brings you
some comfort, Miss Greer.

I'm only sorry it can't bring
back your Mr. Bigard.

Kay, I'm responsible for the
safety of 300 passengers.

Captain,
I didn't kill that man.

Mrs. Fletcher suspects he
may have been poisoned.

Well, I didn't poison him, and
I didn't steal any necklace.

Captain, Mrs. Fletcher,
I swear to you both.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

Pardon me for intruding, but might I
have a closer look at the necklace?

Perhaps it's the light.

No, it isn't the light.

It's the color of the piece.
It's a half tone off.

You can usually count on the real thing

to weigh an ounce or two
more than an imitation.

Inspector, if this young lady stole
the necklace, she stole a fake.

A fake?

You sure of that?
Impossible.

Well, it can't be.

Miss Greer, will you
take a very close look?

I can't believe it.

He's right.

This is a copy.

Miss Greer, could Leon have been
carrying the fake as a decoy?

Well, not without telling me.

I suspect that someone brought the
imitation on board for a reason.

Probably to substitute
it for the real thing

which we still have not found.

Then, Inspector, is Miss Davis
charged with any crime or not?

No, Miss Davis, you and your crew
can all return to your posts.

Thank you.

Mr. Sugahara, you can
return to your seat,

if you would please.
Thank you.

Well, it looks as if we miscalculated.

Well, Jessica, we must try and
look on the bright side.

At least the number of
necklaces is growing.

Ah, well, endless the trek,
endless the search.

Come.

Uh, would you stand up, please?

Us?

Yes. And could I, uh, ask
you to empty your pockets

and to show me all your
hand-baggage, please?

We heard you had your suspect.

Yeah.

How, uh... How long are you
going to spend in England?

On business.
For a vacation.

I said how long, not why.

A month, Inspector.

And we're not thieves.

Do we look like thieves?

Or killers?

Could I have your
knitting basket, please?

Uh, wait, wait.

Now just suppose we sue you

and the airlines for
invasion of privacy?

But if you have nothing to hide,

you've got nothing to fret about.

It was Bert.

He was behind it from the start.

I can't take it anymore!

Hush up, Agnes, and let me handle this.

Bert?

Louis, there's no way we're
gonna get away with it.

Would you hand it over, please?

All right, all right.

Sorry, Bert.
We couldn't help it.

You see, we were
told it's against the law

to bring a dog into England

unless he's quarantined
there for six months.

You were told correctly.

And we couldn't leave poor Bert
back home in some old kennel.

For those few moments clearing Customs,

we were gonna put him in
my husband's coat pocket.

Ladies and gentlemen,

we're just off the English
coast, starting our descent.

We should be landing in Heathrow
Airport in about 20 minutes.

I'll let the, uh,
Heathrow authorities

deal with my major bust.

I'm sorry.
I really had no idea.

What are you gonna do?

What can we do?

I guess we'll take the next plane home.

Oh.

Where's Mr. Carney?

He's just fetching something for me.

You know, when we arrive at Heathrow,

I've got to alert the Customs
chief and my entire department.

They're going to descend on
this plane like locusts.

So much for my one-man show.

Oh, I'll get a citation, all
right. "Dogcatcher of the Year."

Oh, Errol.

Oh, well. Meeting you,
that's reward enough.

What do you say to dinner tomorrow
night at the Savoy Grill?

You're on.

These printouts just came in
on the computer for you.

What is that?

Oh, it's probably a shot in the
dark. It's ticketing records.

Not just for today's flight,
but for yesterday's flights

and flights later today,

on all the airlines that service
the Boston-London corridor.

I'm looking for a familiar name.

Well, look, there's our
Otto Hardwick.

Hmm.

But, I... Wait,
I don't understand.

Uh, there he is again.

He's got...

And again!
Mm-hmm.

Of course.
Now I understand.

He booked passage well in advance

of any possible flight that
Sonny and her necklace

could have taken to London.

Hardwick, or some confederate,
follow Sonny and Leon,

and when they do head for the
airport, he's already ticketed.

And because the airlines are
used to passengers overbooking,

they don't get suspicious.

And by buying his ticket for this
flight well in advance of Sonny,

neither did we.

Errol, I distinctly remember

Mr. Hardwick in the airport lounge.

Cigarette smoke bothered him terribly.

So why take a seat in smoking

when there's a perfectly good
empty seat down in non-smoking?

Well, he could have known that
Leon Bigard didn't smoke,

and so to avoid suspicion,
he wouldn't want to sit

anywhere near his intended victim.

But where did he hide the necklace?

And sitting all the way back
there, how did he steal it?

Wait, I remember.

Earlier in the flight,
I was sitting reading.

I remember looking up and seeing
Leon going to the restroom.

It was the only time he left his seat.

Mr. Hardwick got in his way.

Maybe he's a professional pickpocket

and with a criminal record,

or one of those clever cabaret artists

who lifts people's wallets and watches
right there in front of the audience.

And then, later in the flight,

he plants another fake in
the stewardess's bag,

in the event that Sonny or
Leon discover the switch.

Yeah, but that still doesn't explain

how or when
Mr. Hardwick killed Leon.

Forgive me, Jessica.

First things first.

Mr. Kitt, I wonder if you'd be good enough
to take my seat up front, would you?

Mr. Hardwick, I'm afraid I'm going to
have to submit you to another search.

Inspector, we're all aware that
the best that Scotland Yard

could turn up was a mutt.

You're wasting my precious time.

Charles Lindbergh had less hassle
soloing across the Atlantic

than I've been subjected to.

Then next time, why don't you
do what he did. Fly alone.

Inspector, that's odd.

While I was standing waiting
to use the restroom,

I distinctly heard the sound
of an electric razor,

and it belonged to Mr. Hardwick.

Mrs. Fletcher, is there some international
law forbidding me to shave?

Not that I'm aware of.

But it does seem like a
bit of whisker overkill

to use an electric razor

and also carry this.

I don't see any sign of a razor.

Close shave, eh, Hardwick?

How very clever of you, Jessica.

That's it, Inspector.

Genuine.
Absolutely genuine.

I'll have the Yard
ticket it for evidence,

and then we'll make arrangements
for you to come and pick it up.

Uh, Mrs. Metcalf,

uh, do you have any wool
that you could spare?

Mmm.

Uh, this green do?

Thank you.

Ladies and gentlemen,

please fold up all trays and
extinguish all cigarettes

as we prepare for landing.

Would you like to, uh, make
a statement, Mr. Hardwick?

What can I say?

Yes, I stole the necklace.

And, yes...

I killed him.

This is Captain Whetsel. We are
making our approach to Heathrow.

Please make sure your
seat belts are fastened

and your seats are in
an upright position.

Sir, we're about to land.

Would you please extinguish
your cigarette? Thank you.

Mrs. Fletcher, you must return to
your seat. We're in a line to land.

Scotland Yard? Uh, yes.

Inspector Crimmins, please.
It's urgent.

Please, Fred, this is vitally important.

Inspector Crimmins?
This is Jessica Fletcher.

I'm about 5,000 feet over
London. Would you listen carefully?

Time is precious.

Mrs. Fletcher, the landing gear is down.

You must return to your seat.

Yes, thank you, Inspector.
Thank you very much.

Thanks.

Please remain n your seats

until the aircraft's come
to a complete stop.

Flight Number ten from
Boston has arrived at Gate six.

Flight Number 927 from Casablanca

is arriving at the Blue Concourse.

Thank you, Inspector.
Need some assistance?

No, I'm fine, thank you.
I think everything's in hand.

Thank you very much.

Flight Number 261 to Amsterdam is now
boarding at the Blue Concourse.

Inspector Pogson, would you and
your prisoner mind coming with us?

I'm sorry?

I'm with Heathrow Security.

The Customs chief needs
to have a word with you.

Only be a moment.

Blasted red tape every time.

Look, I've just signed the papers.

I suggest that the best thing you can
do is have your chief call my office

in Scotland Yard in about an hour.

Thank you.
Sorry, sir.

Under orders.

Come on.

Look, if this is a question of filling
out more forms, really, I...

What are you doing here?

Same thing you are, Errol.
Wrapping up a theft.

I'm only sorry we suddenly find
ourselves on different sides.

Jessica, what are you talking about?

Oh, I think you know.

In this day and age of
tight airport security,

how does one make off with a
two-million dollar necklace

without proof of ownership
or a bill of sale?

As the evidence in a crime, perhaps?

I'm...
I'm sorry. You've lost me.

A perfect theft
requires a perfect getaway,

and you had yours planned
from the very beginning.

You must have been with the
Yard at one time or another.

Perhaps a career man who
only got the gold pin,

and in bitterness you went
after the real gold?

Chief, it is perfectly obvious
that this woman's storybook world

has taken over from the
world of reality.

Don't be modest, Errol.

I fell for your deception from
one continent to another.

You even had the courtesy to
let me find the necklace

in Mr. Hardwick's can of shaving cream.

And to think I invited
you to dine with me.

Mr. Hardwick was to
pickpocket the necklace

and substitute the imitation.

If the switch was not
discovered, all well and good.

But if something went wrong,

well, then you'd be standing
by to nab the thief

and escort him and the necklace
right through Customs.

It was a brilliant plan.

Unfortunately, Mr. Bigard spoiled it
all by getting himself murdered.

It all fell into place when you,
Mr. Hardwick, confessed to the murder.

A skilled sleight-of-hand artist like you
wouldn't have resorted to violence.

Killing Leon would only attract
attention to the theft.

So after lifting the necklace
without Leon even realizing it,

why confess to his murder,

which you had absolutely
no reason to commit?

That's when I knew that
you and the inspector

were in on it together.

You'd have confessed to
every crime on the blotter

to get off that plane
and through Customs,

because the man arresting you
was your partner in crime.

Shall I ring up the Yard to verify
your employment, "Inspector"?

Hardwick, you're a bloody twit.

Don't tie up your phone.

No calls are necessary.

Dinner would have been lovely, Errol.

But I'm afraid I'd have been
waiting alone at some table

while you were on another
flight for points unknown.

Very impressive,
Mrs. Fletcher.

But permit me one small query.

If Hardwick didn't kill
Mr. Bigard, who did?

The killer should be arriving
at Customs at any moment.

All passengers arriving
from foreign destinations

will proceed directly
to Customs inspection.

Thank you.

Mrs. Metcalf.
Yes?

You know, I was just thinking.
Since Bert is persona non grata

in England, what about France?

It's only an hour's trip
across the Channel,

and he's welcome there.

Paris, Edna?

Who knows?
He might meet a cute poodle.

What a wonderful idea,
Mrs. Fletcher.

I'm sure Bert'll love it.

Parlez-vous français, Bertie?

Any minute.

Flight Number 472 from Cairo

is arriving at Gate number one.

Miss Greer.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.

You darted off the plane so quickly,

I didn't get a chance
to really thank you.

Yes. Well, uh, I just want to advise
you that a real Scotland Yard man

will be contacting you
about your necklace.

A "real" Scotland Yard man?
I don't understand.

Well, what matters is that your
necklace will be waiting for you

if and when you get out of prison.

What are you talking about?

You know, it's ironic.

You actually made the capture
of the bogus inspector

and Otto Hardwick possible

when you killed Leon Bigard.

What? No.

Oh, yes, I'm afraid so.

And in thinking back,
I even remember how and when you did it.

I looked up and saw Kay
give you a glass of water.

It was your way of planting the idea

of taking a couple of
tranquilizers in Leon's head.

And I couldn't help but see Leon
having trouble with his tape machine.

A little later, he either
asked you for some pills,

or you may have suggested he take them.

I did see Kay bring him some water.

But the pills that you gave him
were no ordinary tranquilizers.

They were poison.

If you didn't see him take pills
from me, you have no proof.

You had easy access to
his tape recorder.

You could have tampered
with it before the flight

when he gave you his tote bag.

You made him dependent
on your tranquilizers.

Is that what you think?

Are you prepared to deal with
the battery of attorneys

I'm about to unleash?

Oh, yes. Because you went
further than just the murder.

You waited until the cabin was dark,

and then you took the necklace.

I was standing at the
front of first class

and saw you enter the galley.

You had time to plant it in
the unlocked crew closet,

and then you headed upstairs

as far as you could be
from the man you killed,

waiting to be told of his death.

What you didn't know
was that the necklace

that you took from Leon
was by then a fake.

The real one had already been
lifted from Leon by Otto Hardwick.

That's why you were so shocked
when told the necklace

you put in Kay's bag was a fake.

Chief, if you'll alert
Scotland Yard, I...

I suspect that the crew closet handle,
as well as the stewardess's vinyl bag

should have, uh, some of Miss
Greer's fingerprints on them.

Damn him.

You're right, Mrs. Fletcher.

So very right.

Leon was my lover.

Only I found out
I didn't have him exclusively.

He climbed into my bed to climb
out of his chauffeur's seat

and onto bigger and better
things for himself.

He...

had an eye on a vice presidency

in one of my late father's firms,

and he was bedding the wife
of a board member to get it.

Only yesterday I learned
he was secretly planning

to meet that woman in London

and give me the gate.

Well, nobody tosses me aside.

He was a nobody.

Mr. Globle.

Here's your script.

You know, I can't tell
you how much I enjoyed

the sophisticated imagery
and the poetic wit.

I see it as a cross
between cinema Verité...

Imagery and cinema Verité?

Yes. I think if you change the title,

it might do very well in those
quaint little, uh, art theaters.

Anything to declare, sir?

Yes.

This is a dud.