All language subtitles for Murder She Wrote S03E14 Murder in a Minor Key 1080p BluRay FLAC2 0 H 264-NTb_Subtitles_3

What do you want?

Tonight on Murder,
She Wrote.

How dare you interrupt my
rehearsal! You know damn well why!

Get that thing away
from my face at once.

You think I killed him?
What for? I needed his music.

We want justice. I'm asking you
to stop this demonstration.

I'm not sure
I could do that, sir.

I've been kissing your pinky
ring for too many years now.

You owe me this!

What did I hear about shots?
Is somebody playing Hardball?

Stoneham's widow. She may
have plunked the guy.

Hello. I was just changing into
something more comfortable.

I've got a long night of reading ahead
of me. Galleys on my new book.

I don't know why they
send me these things,

because I am absolutely the
world's worst proofreader.

"Murder in a Minor Key."

Well, at least they've
got the title right.

Oh, it feels so good to sit down.

You know,

I was on my feet half the day
down at the power company.

Running from one office to the other,
trying to get my last bill sorted out.

Did you ever try to argue with
a computer? It is impossible.

It's like trying to talk
sense to Amos Tupper

once he's made up his
mind about something.

These? Yeah,
I know they're a little bit silly,

but my nephew Grady gave them to me.

And you know something?
They're really very comfortable.

I mean, I only wear them around the
house where nobody can see them.

Well, let's get down to business.

You know I'm really very pleased with
this story, the way it's turned out.

It's a neat little puzzle
involving some young students

at a Southern
California university.

Michael Prentice is a bright,
budding music composer.

And I'm afraid we put him
in trouble right away.

His best friends are a very
soft-spoken, young law student

from the Deep South,
Chad Singer.

And a rather quirky, young lady from
New York named Jenny Coopersmith.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

It started out one spring evening

when, as usual, our trio of comrades

arrived at a favorite campus hangout

for a couple of hours of relaxation.

I am not a fascist, and
I'm not sellin' out.

Mm-hmm. A body that
willingly goes to work

for Transacom's legal
division is a body for sale.

Second the motion.

Well, what am I supposed to do?

Join the public defender's office?

Terrific.

Send me your tired, your poor,
your huddled masses...

your guilty.
That is cynical.

And sick.
But accurate.

Corporate law.
The heart pounds.

Meanwhile, every day innocent people

are getting victimized by the system.

Yeah? Name two.

Listen, Mike, don't talk
to me about sellin' out.

Last time I looked, you were sendin'

your songs to Nashville,
for God's sakes.

Thank you. Thank you. I thank
you and so does Mr. Porter.

Now how about a change of pace?
Here's something brand-new.

It's called
The World Belonged To Me.

A friend of mine in New York
sneaked me an advance copy.

I understand it's from an
upcoming Broadway musical.

I like it.
And I hope you will too.

I'm gonna need steady employment

if Jenn and I are gonna get married.

Oh, don't drag me into this.

I am real happy living in sin,

at least for awhile.

Michael?

Michael, what is it?

That's-That's my music.
What?

That's my music.
I wrote that!

Well, shoot,
Mike. It probably only sounds like...

No, no, not sounds like!

Excuse me.

I'm sorry. I was playing
the best I know how.

Would you mind? Please.
It's important.

Be my guest.

Here, check me out.

How am I doin'?
You haven't missed a note.

Mike!

Professor Stoneham!

Mr. Prentice, may I assume that your
rude disruption of these proceedings

is prompted by some
monumental occurrence.

I wanna know about this!

We'll discuss this in my
office in half an hour.

Meanwhile, will you have the courtesy of
allowing me to continue with my rehearsal?

Ladies and gentlemen,
let's try it again.

How dare you! How dare you
interrupt my rehearsal!

You know damn well why!

Would you get that thing
away from my face at once.

Professor--
At once, do you hear me?

The name Alden Gilbert is on
this music, a piece I wrote.

Coincidence is not uncommon
in musical composition.

We're talking note for
note here, Professor.

Last spring, I handed you four original
themes as my term assignment.

This was one of them.

Surely you're not accusing
me of something, Michael.

Those themes belong to me.

I want them back, now.
Or what?

Listen to me, my insolent young friend.

You continue with this
confrontation, and I will see to it

that your future in music is
limited to organ grinding.

You don't frighten me, Professor.

I'll see the chancellor...
And tell him what?

And show him what?

Irate college students
who feel they've been

badly treated are a dime a
dozen on every campus.

And anyway, it's your word against mine.

Oh, I'll find a way,
Professor, somehow.

And if I can't find
anybody else to help me,

I'll settle things myself.

Professor, I, uh...
That is...

Is there some trouble here, sir?

No, Mr. Papasian.

I believe Mr. Prentice was just leaving.

Damn!

What the devil is wrong
with you, Christine?

Are you being solicitous,
Tyler, or merely polite?

Surely we're not going to have
another of our discussions,

not at this hour.

For the last six years,

all I have ever wanted
was to share your life.

Just to be a small part of it.

Oh, Lord.

And each year, I have
drifted farther away.

These...

These past few months
have been the worst.

Every weekend, you've
gone off to San Diego.

I had business to
conduct. Every weekend?

Why was I never able
to contact you there?

No matter how often I called?

You phoned down there asking for me?

I specifically told you
I was not to be disturbed.

And I am your wife.

I will not be treated like
one of your students.

I am not a fool.

I see. You suspect me of
some schoolboy infidelity.

Really, Christine.

I should be flattered.
You're mocking me.

Strange, I thought it was
the other way around.

Another woman, is that
what you really think?

Dear child.

There's nothing to
concern yourself with.

A preoccupation with business, yes,
I'll plead guilty to that, but...

I'm afraid anything else is a figment
of your overly suspicious imagination.

Hello? Oh. Hi, Pauline, how are you?

Honey, you remember when I busted
in on you and what's-his-name...

Alden Gilbert? That composer
you were working with?

Yeah.
You want a big surprise?

Take a look at this
morning's paper, page 32.

Okay.

We want justice. We want justice.

We want justice.
We want justice.

Okay, okay.
Hold it down a second, huh, guys?

We all know why we're here, right?

Yeah!

Well, in case some of you don't,

let me give it to you by the numbers.

Last Friday, the semi-enlightened

administrators of this
institution summarily dismissed

one of the brightest, the best, and
the most dedicated professors...

Mr. Young, is this your doing?

Are you responsible for this?

Well, sir, could be my
editorial in the campus paper

helped feed the fire a little.

Well, I suggest you try to douse it.

The chancellor isn't amused.
No, sir, I'm sure he isn't.

And as vice-chancellor
of this university,

I'm asking you to stop
this demonstration.

I'm not sure
I could do that, sir.

Even if I wanted to, which I don't.

Well, then I'll just have
to have Mr. Hargrove

and his security force here break it up.

Oh, I'm sure Mr. Hargrove
realizes that that

would not only be
high-handed and illegal,

but dumb as well, sir.

I mean, who wants photos of the campus
police bullying a bunch of kids,

who are merely exercising their
constitutional right of free speech?

I don't know about you, but
I think those fat cats

at Transacom need a good
dose of flea powder!

What do you say?

I think if a bunch of us went over
to the chancellor's office...

It-It's impossible
to see you tonight.

I suggest breakfast tomorrow
morning, at your hotel.

No, you cannot come here.
I'm-I'm leaving shortly.

I'm merely waiting for an
important phone call.

Yes.

Well, he was gonna look into it

the first chance he got!

Fight
Transacom. Fight Transacom.

Fight Transacom.

Fight Transacom.
Fight Transacom.

Operator, I'd like you
to try a number for me.

I've tried it several times,
and it may be out of order.

It's area code 619-555-4027.

Professor Stoneham!

Mr. Papasian, are you
in the habit of always

entering my office without knocking?

Mr. Papasian, you have been drinking.

I have just been reading

the galley proofs of your
new music dictionary.

Ah-ah, correction!
Our new music dictionary.

But my name seems to be conspicuously
absent from the title page.

Harry, dear friend--
You promised me!

Your contribution has been duly
noted by the powers that be,

and they will, I am sure, strongly
consider you as my replacement,

when I choose to leave...

Depending, of course,
upon my recommendation.

Don't you threaten me,
Stoneham.

I've been kissing your pinky
ring for too many years now.

You owe me this!

Danny!

Hi.

It's a nice turnout.

Yeah. It's the power of the press.

You think it'll help?

I don't know. I already have the
vice-chancellor squirming.

We're recording this, and we're
gonna send him a tape tomorrow.

Oh-ho.
Where's Chad?

Home studying. He's having
trouble with his torts.

Oh. You know,
I hear they can cure that these days.

Hey! What are you doin' in here?

All right, son. Hands
where I can see 'em.

And stand real still.

Poor Michael. Fate seemed to
be conspiring against him.

Not only were his musical
compositions missing from the files,

but Professor Stoneham was in no condition
to tell him where they'd gone.

Of course, that was the
least of his troubles.

As soon as the security officer,
Mr. Hargrove,

entered the office,

he immediately added two and
two and came up with five.

The police were summoned,
and Michael was herded off

to a jail cell at police headquarters.

So what are you doin' in here?

You're not gonna tell me
you killed Stoneham?

Me? I'm a card-carrying pacifist.

Okay, so just tell me
everything that happened.

Wh-Why? Are you gonna represent
me? And get you hung?

No way.

But it's like my Uncle Jack always said,

findin' a fox in the henhouse
don't necessarily mean nothin',

unless, of course, he's pickin'
feathers out of his teeth.

The security guy, Hargrove, comes in,
catches Mike goin' through the files.

Then he spots Stoneham sprawled out
on the floor dead as a mackerel

with a tuning fork stuck in his
chest. The same one that...

That Harry Papasian saw him wavin'
at Stoneham the night before.

Right.

You know, I'm just a struggling
would-be social worker,

but it seems to me Harry
Papasian must have killed him.

Papasian claims Stoneham
was alive when he left,

and a polygraph passed
him with flags flying.

Nice. How about a lie
detector for Mike too?

Oh, he got one. The results
were inconclusive.

He flunked? That's the
way the cops see it.

Okay. So why did Mike break in?

He couldn't find any
copies of his music.

To prove it was his, he
needed the originals.

And Stoneham wasn't
about to give 'em up,

so he figured he had to take it.

Mike didn't kill anyone. And all
we have to do is prove it.

Is that the royal we, or am
I included in this mess?

It was my bright theory the
system always worked, remember?

So who says you're always so bright?

Where do we start?

Me, campus.
You, Broadway.

All right.

Here. No, no, no.

Keep it, keep it, keep it.

Are you kidding?
You talked to Prentice? In jail?

What'd he say?
He said he didn't do it.

Hold on,
I gotta get a tape running. Danny, I...

I didn't come here to give you an
interview. I need to look at your files.

I know. And I've got a paper to get
out with the story of the year.

And you, old pal, are my
exclusive. No way. No. No.

Then no way do you see my files.

Oh, God.

Files first.

Wrong. I've got a deadline. Come on.

Danny, you are gonna make
a great newspaperman.

It's in your blood.
Ice cold. Thanks.

Obviously, we must not let Dr. Stoneham's
death be turned into a media circus.

We've had enough trouble
on this campus recently.

I'm just helpin' out a friend, sir.

I guess I'm the closest
thing he's got to family.

Very admirable, but have
you considered that

your friend Mr. Prentice may
be guilty as sin. No, sir.

Shoot, there were lots of people on
this campus that hated Dr. Stoneham.

Enough to commit murder?

Well, I guess one motive's
as good as another.

I just remembered.

Didn't you use to be real
close with Mrs. Stoneham?

Given the context, I think I
resent that question, Mr. Singer.

No, no, no offense intended, sir.

I-I just happened to be going through

some back issues of the
campus newspaper.

I couldn't help but notice that

you and she were somethin' of an item

before Stoneham popped
up here six years ago.

Christine and I were
friends, nothing more.

After their marriage, I did not
harbor either of them any ill will.

As a matter of fact, I went out of my way
to make Tyler Stoneham feel welcome.

That-That sure was
neighborly of you, sir.

The music building,
Mr. Singer.

Professor Papasian's expecting you.

I trust you will not feel the
need to query me again.

Now this is our storage room,

where we keep all our
instruments, sheet music.

How about original compositions?

Ah, no. Dr. Stoneham insisted on keeping

all of that under lock and
key in his private office.

Ah, excuse me.

Yes?

No.

No, this is not Dr. Stoneham.

No. Ah, I suggest you pick up a
copy of this morning's paper.

The front page. That will
explain everything.

Mm-hmm. Idiot.

Ah, Dr. Stoneham's phone rings in
here as well as in his office.

He used to spend a lot of time
in here noodling on that piano.

Well, I guess that's about it.

You've seen everything there is to see.

Ah, with the exception of
Dr. Stoneham's office,

which you may have noticed
the police have sealed off.

So, Chancellor Simon tells me
that you're a law student.

Is this some sort of classroom exercise?

No, sir. I'm just a
good friend of Mike's,

that's all.
Ah.

Just tryin' to be his eyes and ears.

I guess all this has put quite a
burden on you, Mr. Papasian.

I mean, as Stoneham's assistant,

I expect you'll be takin'
over for him now.

Ah, yes, yes. I-I wish the
circumstances had been different,

but as they say, one must not
only endure, one must overcome.

I wish it had been anyone but
Michael Prentice. He's a fine young man.

Well, you know, sir,
Mike says he didn't do it.

Yes, so I understand.

I'm-I'm afraid, Mr. Singer, that
I was forced in all candor,

to tell the police of
the heated argument

I witnessed the night before Tyler died.

Well, now that's real funny.

Mike told me all about the fight
Stoneham had with you...

the night he did die.

Fight? No. It was a minor
argument, that's all.

Well, thanks for the tour, Professor.

Sure was helpful.

Rhoda, hey, thanks.
No, this is great, really.

Yeah. You're kidding! When?

She didn't.

Well, she's crazy.
You know something?

If Jerome wants to live
in Jersey, so big deal.

I mean, Jersey's not all
Hoboken, you know.

L-L-Listen, Rhoda,
I gotta go. Yeah.

Thanks again, and tell
Shelly she's a doll.

Is this lady a detective or what?

You got somethin'?

From my girlfriend Rhoda,

who was best friends at CCNY with
a certain Sheila Abramowitz,

who happens to be the sister
of Deirdre Abramowitz,

who just happens to work for
the Broadway producer...

Who just happens to be
puttin' on a musical

with words and music by Alden Gilbert.

Ooh. Sharp, Chad, sharp.

Show's named Blue Lights.
The guy's name is Max Hellinger.

He used to be
Gilbert's agent.

Darlin', you are a jewel.

You got a number on this Hellinger?

Um, yeah, but save your nickel.

Hellinger's been out of town for three
days, not expected back until Monday.

Whereabouts unknown.

Hellinger's secretary, she have a
number on file for Alden Gilbert?

Nope. Gilbert always called Hellinger,
never the other way around.

But Gilbert's definitely a local.

Contracts, checks, everything
went to a P.O. box in Westwood.

Weird, huh?
Maybe not.

Not if you're tryin' to
lead a double life.

Come again?
Don't you get it, Jenn?

Alden Gilbert? Professor Tyler
Stoneham? One and the same.

Thing is, who knew it and more
importantly, who stood to gain by it?

Hello.
Yes?

Mrs. Stoneham?
I'm Chad Singer.

Y-You'll forgive the intrusion, ma'am.

I... I'm a good friend
of Michael Prentice.

Yes. Come in.

Please.
Thank you.

Tyler and Michael used to work
together here quite often.

His best student in years, he said.

Well, at least they used
to work together here.

Lately, Tyler was away so much,

I barely saw Michael.
Away where?

San Diego. School business.

And the night...

The night he died, ma'am...

Did you see your husband, talk to him?

I called his office.

He told me he was waiting
for Harry Papasian

to drop off the galley
proofs of his new book,

and then he'd be right home.

I told him we could have
a late supper together.

About what time was this?

Um...

I was watching television,

some comedy show
that started at 9:30.

I watch a lot of television.

It must have been about half over

when I made the call at
the commercial break.

So I suppose that
would put it at about 9:45.

That was the last time
I ever heard his voice.

Later, when the policeman
came to the door, I...

I thought it was Tyler, that
he'd forgotten his key.

Yes, ma'am.

Are you married, Mr. Singer?

No, I'm not, but I hope to be.

As soon as I pass the bar.

It's not a step to be taken lightly.

These days,

people don't seem to care
very much about commitment.

Uh, ma'am,

did your husband ever mention
the name Alden Gilbert to you?

No, I don't believe so.

Max Hellinger?
No.

Well, I thank you very much, ma'am.

You've been more than hospitable.

And not very much help, I'm afraid.

Wow, your husband must have
been a very wealthy man.

I mean, from a wealthy family.

I don't know of too many
professors who live like this.

Tyler never confided
in me about finances.

I suppose that's something
I'll have to learn.

Yes, ma'am.
Bye.

A strange visit.

I wonder what he wanted.

I'm not sure.

You know, for a minute I got the
feeling he thought I'd killed Tyler.

So Augustine Simon claims he and
Christine Stoneham were just friends.

Well, then why was he
hiding in the other room,

when Chad questioned the bereaved widow
about the identity of Alden Gilbert?

If you ask me, it was hanky-panky
of the highest order.

Meanwhile, back on campus,

the assistant music chairman,
Harry Papasian,

was receiving some very good news.

Yes, sir, thank you.

And, uh, please convey my thanks

to the board for this appointment.

I can assure you that
Professor Stoneham's

high standards shall be
continued in every way.

Thank you.

I beg your pardon.
May I help you?

You never know, pal. I'm looking
for something that belongs to me.

Well, I seriously doubt that you'll
find it in here, Mr., uh...

Max Hellinger. Tyler Stoneham and
I had a business relationship.

These are his files, aren't they?

School files.
It's the same thing.

He owed me a couple of songs
he'd composed. I need them now.

Tyler a composer?
That's ridiculous.

The man didn't have an
original bone in his body.

You know not whereof you speak, pal.

By the way, who the hell are you?

Harry Papasian, assistant... Uh, former
assistant head to the department.

You are now running the store?
Good. I have a proposition for you.

Uh, excuse me, uh, Mr. Hellinger?

Two pieces of music, both ballads.

Look for the name of Alden
Gilbert as the composer.

You find 'em for me, it's
worth five big ones. What?

What, you have a hearing
problem? $5000 for two songs,

in 48 hours in my hands, okay?

Well, if the songs exist, I'll certainly
do my best to locate them for you.

You bet you will, baby.

You had no right to print that story.

We're a newspaper,
Mr. Parnell.

Check the sign on the door.

I am trying to save Prentice
from the gas chamber,

and you're trying to get
an "A" in journalism?

Hey, Chad.
Come here a sec.

Fella here's got a problem
with your interview.

You're Singer?
That's me.

I've been looking for you. I'm-I'm
Ray Parnell, public defender's office.

And if you don't want to screw up
your friend's life permanently,

I suggest you learn to
keep your mouth shut.

Sir, I'm just trying to
help. You listen to me.

Your friend has one chance of getting
free, and that's temporary insanity.

What do you... Have you talked
to him? He didn't do it.

So he tells me. And I sure
would like to believe him.

But what I believe and what you
believe, that doesn't count.

What counts is what
I can sell to a jury.

Hi.

I'm sorry I got hung up.
I brought us a pizza.

You eat. I popped a button
on my jeans this morning.

I'm fasting till Yom Kippur.

Don't stop. I like that.

Yeah?

Yeah, it really grabs me.

It was plain to see

That the world belonged to me

Makes me kinda wonder
who wrote the lyrics.

It sure wasn't Tyler Stoneham.

Well, I guess it was
Mike. Ha! Are you kidding?

I took American Lit with Mike. He
could barely understand Edgar Guest.

Hot dang! Lyrics!

Stoneham not only ripped off the melody,
but he got somebody to put words to it.

But who?

Don't look at me. After June and moon,
I'm lost.

Darlin',
I got a job for you. Uh-oh.

The last few months,
Stoneham's been spendin'

a lot of time south of the city.

Maybe San Diego.

619 area code. Are you still
friendly with that, uh,

what's-her-name in the business
office? Marsha? Sure, but...

Tomorrow morning, first thing.
I want you to get Marsha

to check all the outgoing toll
calls on Stoneham's line.

Everything with a 619 prefix.

Maybe we can put a phone
number to a name and address.

Oh, come on, Chad.

Well, you wanna help, don't you?

Not for me, hon. For Mike.

Persuade me, cowboy.

The things I put up with for my friends.

Oh.

Who's there?

Who are you?

What do you want?

Uh-huh.
I got that.

She heard this guy
stumblin' around when?

Four o'clock in the morning?
Is she sure it was a man?

Listen, Danny, the shots,
did she hit the guy?

All right. Look,
I'll call you later

at the newspaper office.
Anything you learn I want it.

I'll talk to you later, good buddy.

Do you know what time it is?

Yes, ma'am. Time for you to hustle your
bustle over to your friend Marsha's.

One of Danny Young's
newspaper reporters was

monitoring police calls early this
morning, some kind of a CB freak.

Somebody broke into the
Stoneham house last night,

probably lookin' for Mike's music.

Wh-What did I hear about shots?
Is somebody playing Hardball?

Stoneham's widow. She may
have plunked the guy.

They found blood outside.

Oh, terrific!

She didn't shoot at me, hon.

Come on, chop, chop.
I need that 619 number.

Uh, excuse me,
Professor Papasian?

May I help you,
Mr. Singer?

Professor, you got a minute?

Actually, I'm very busy this morning.
Well, this won't take long.

I just wanted to set things straight about
that fight you had with Dr. Stoneham.

It was a discussion,
Mr. Singer, not a fight.

Well, that's not the
way Michael tells it.

Yes, well, if I were in jail
facing a murder charge,

I, too, would be spreading suspicion

in as many directions as I could.

Well, I apologize,
Professor.

I guess it's just a case of friendship

gettin' in the way of my
better judgment. Mmm.

Looks like mice got at this seal.

What?
This seal.

The door to Dr. Stoneham's office.

Seems to be peelin' off.

I'm afraid, Mr. Singer,

that my patience with your
amateur sleuthing is exhausted.

As is I'm sure, everyone else's.

Now will you please leave, or will
I be forced to call security.

Oh, gosh, sir. I don't mean
to make a pest of myself.

I really do apologize for
any misunderstanding.

Yes, well, that's quite all right,
Mr. Singer.

Oh, I'm sorry. Is there something
wrong with your arm, Professor?

No, it's all right.
You know,

I couldn't help but notice the way you were
holdin' that valise out there, and...

And the way you opened the door.

I thought you might be
hurt or somethin'.

Maybe you oughta have a doctor look
at it. No, no, it's all right.

Well, ah, let me give
you a hand with that.

You know, Professor,

Mrs. Stoneham shot an intruder
in her house last night.

Yep, she surely did.

You know,
I'll just bet...

it was somebody searchin'
for some sheet music.

What do you think?

Yes.

I think you're probably right.

I was looking for some songs that
Tyler was supposed to have written.

A man named Max Hellinger,
a Broadway producer,

offered me a great deal of money
if I could deliver them.

No questions asked, of course.

They weren't... No. No,
I looked everywhere.

I suspect he stashed them
in a safe deposit box.

This man, Hellinger, do you
know where I can find him?

Well, I imagine he's gone
to see Michael Prentice.

When he called this morning and I
told him I couldn't help him,

he said his only other
possibility was in jail.

Mr. Hellinger?

Yeah, I'm Max Hellinger.
Who are you?

I'm a good friend of Michael Prentice.

I was wondering if I might talk to you

about the unpublished
works of Alden Gilbert.

Thank you, Jim.

It's a nice place.
It'll be a parking lot

in one month. Well,
things pick up after 6:00.

They'd better.
Okay, let's talk music.

How about first if we talk
about Tyler Stoneham?

Excuse me,
Alden Gilbert.

I didn't come here to shoot
the bull with you, pal.

Since the cops still wouldn't let me
talk to Prentice, you'll have to do.

Do you have the songs or don't
you? Tyler Stoneham was killed

just before 10:00 p.m.
two nights ago.

Two nights ago, I was in New
York City. Let's get back to the music.

Two nights ago, your plane
landed at LAX at 6:05.

A friend of a friend checked
the passenger manifests.

You think I killed him?
What for? I needed his music.

Maybe he was holdin' out on you. Maybe
he was hittin' you up for more money.

Maybe. Maybe you need something stronger
to drink than that beer you're nursing.

Look, I knew Tyler for 10 years.
He used to feed me stuff.

dreck, mostly. Then he comes
along with Blue Lights.

First-class material.
primo.

But even I could figure out he didn't
become another Sondheim overnight.

Okay, so you got in at 6:00. And then what?
You went to see Stoneham at the school?

Wrong, sonny. I called him. What time?

Around half past 9:00, at his office.

He said he was gonna leave as
soon as he got some phone call.

We made a breakfast date. I showed up.
He didn't. Then I caught the news.

Let's get back to those two
songs. I haven't got 'em.

Wait a minute, you said... And as far
as I know, neither does anybody else.

The only one that can deliver those
songs to you, Mr. Hellinger,

is Michael Prentice.

If you can think of anything
that'll help get him out from

under this investigation,
I suggest you talk to the police.

Otherwise, I'm afraid
your show's gonna be

openin' up on Broadway minus
a couple of ballads.

Okay, so where's my medal?

You said you wanted a lyricist.

You got a lyricist.

Say hi to Reagan Miller.

Writing partner of the late and
not-so-great Alden Gilbert.

Hi.

When Miss Coopersmith phoned me,
asking about Alden Gilbert, I, uh...

I didn't quite know what to say.

Sounded to me like she
dropped the phone.

That's when I knew
I hit the exact a.

Quite honestly, I really didn't wanna
talk about Alden, or Dr. Stoneham,

or whatever his real name was.

The man lied to me, he deceived me.

Cheated you?

Yes, I suppose you could say that too.

Look, I didn't care about the money,

the only thing that
I wanted was recognition

for my work, but he took
credit for everything.

The music, the words.
I mean, they were my words.

I just can't believe all
this is happening.

Okay, you say you went to the
college the night he was killed.

Yeah, but I didn't kill him. I mean...

The fact is, I never even saw the man.

I couldn't find his office, and all of
a sudden there were these policemen

coming out from all
different directions.

I think it was shortly
after 10:00. I just left.

That's terrific. Everyone but the
pope is at the college that night,

and Michael's the one they
find standin' over the body.

Forgive me, I'm... I'm
O. D'ing on frustration here.

Ah, if you'll excuse me, I,
I have to get back home.

There's something that I
wrote for television

and I forgot to set my tape machine.

No kidding.
You wrote for TV?

Yeah. Just a jingle for a
real estate commercial.

Not Broadway, but it pays the rent.

Um, look,
I think it starts at quarter to 7:00.

If I rush,
I can just make it.

Well, thank you for coming.

And, uh, if and when we ever
get Michael out of jail,

we'll have to put the
two of you together.

You'd make a great combo.
I look forward to it.

Good night, Chad.

Oh, he gets like that.

Okay.

What's with the face?

So, do I get first prize or what?

Darlin', you're not gonna believe this,

but I think I just figured out
which fox got in the henhouse.

Well, how about you? Have you figured
out who killed the good doctor?

Well, you can't be hurting for suspects.

Heaven knows there were plenty of
people with motive and opportunity.

But if you've been paying attention,

there's one particular clue that
should pinpoint the guilty party.

See if you can come up with the
same answer that Chad did.

This had better be good, Mr. Singer.

I didn't let you organize this little
charade to be made a fool of.

No, I wouldn't do that,
sir. You can count on it.

You know the drill.
I mean, lots of noise.

Hey, you're gonna get all
the dBs you can handle.

All right, Reagan, everybody. Yeah.

I want you to do and say whatever
you did the other night.

I didn't do or say
anything. Then do it again.

Ah, Singer, this is
Lt. Perkins. How are...

Just so's you understand, son,
I'm not real keen on parlor tricks.

Only reason I'm here is 'cause the
school asked us to cooperate.

Well, I appreciate that,
sir. How ya doin'?

Holding up.
All right.

Um, I don't know what I'm doing here.
I was nowhere near this place.

Well, I know...
Nor was I, Mr. Singer.

I know. I need you both to
help re-create what happened.

Look, one thing you'd better understand.

I'm not letting the
suspect out of my sight.

Right. I want you hangin'
on him like wallpaper.

Where he goes, you go.
Come on.

Mr. Papasian, glad you could make it.

Yes, Mr. Singer. As I told you,
I am delighted to cooperate.

All right. Mr. Hellinger,

Mrs. Stoneham, if you'd just
stand here by the telephone.

Mr. Parnell, you'll be
playing Mr. Stoneham,

so if you'll just come with me.

Step into the office. And
you know the instructions?

I know what
I'm supposed to do.

There we go.

All right, Mr. Hellinger,

if you will place a call to the office
like you did the night of the murder,

Mr. Parnell will answer it.

555-8974.

Start the watch?
Go.

Mike!

I heard him talking on the phone,

and I heard him say
he'd be leaving soon.

That's when I ducked into the
instrument storage room.

Go.

You too, Lieutenant.

Now the light went out, and went
on again almost immediately.

Okay, Mr. Hellinger, you
can hang up the phone.

Mr. Parnell, pick up the receiver
and pretend to be dialing out!

All right, Mike, now what?

After about 30 seconds or so,
the light went on again.

All right, that was Stoneham dialing
Reagan, but she wasn't home.

Uh, Chad, the light went on again
a second time, but shorter.

Okay. Get back inside.

Mr. Parnell, I want you
to hang up the phone,

pick it up again and hold it.

All right, Mike.
What next?

After the light went out for the
third time, I started to leave.

I heard a man's footsteps approaching.

I ducked back inside, then I looked out.

I saw Mr. Papasian go down the hall
to Stoneham's office and walk in.

Mr. Parnell, you can hang up the phone!

Mr. Papasian.

Okay, now I want the two
of you to argue, loud.

About what?

Anything. The price of
goat's cheese. The Dodgers.

It doesn't make any difference, but
you're mad as hell at each other.

This is ridiculous.

Of course it is, but if he wants an
argument, let's give it to him.

I haven't got anything to
hide! You think I do?

I don't know anything
about you, Parnell. Mike!

And frankly,
I don't care to! Can you hear all that?

Uh, bits and pieces, like the night of
the murder. It's pretty noisy in here.

Mr. Singer's theatricality is
beginning to border on the ludicrous!

On that, we totally agree!

Gentlemen,

that was just fine.

Mr. Papasian, you may
leave the room now.

This is the most
ridiculous thing I've...

How we doin'?

It's time.
Let's go.

Mrs. Stoneham, it's quarter to the hour.

If you'll just place that call to your
husband, like you did that night.

Hey, Chad, that phone, it
never rang the other night.

That's right, ma'am.
It never rang.

The call you said you
made to your husband

during the commercial break?
It never happened.

But...
There are no buts, ma'am.

Because you said you talked to
your husband, which you did not.

A fact I believe will be validated
by your next month's phone bill.

It's a toll call.

The only thing
I don't know is

was Mr. Simon in on it with you?

No! No, he wasn't!

Tyler was my problem.

Poor Christine.
It was only a little slip,

but those are the ones that get you.

She's come to the office
to surprise her husband.

They fought and long-suffering
Christine finally went over the edge.

Michael was cleared, of course.

And when last seen,

he and Reagan Miller were boarding
a plane with Max Hellinger,

headed for the Great White Way.

As for Chad and Jenny, you know,

I've been noodling with
this idea for a sequel,

in which they travel to Mississippi,

so that she can meet the folks.

On the way, they run into
this defrocked priest

and a professional wrestler
who just happen to be...

Oops, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Maybe we just better
wait for the sequel.

Thanks for dropping by and good night.