Original subtitles

[Jessica] Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

Well, now that we've finished carving up the artist,

shall we start on the roast?

Could be we're dealin' with a theft

as well as a murder.

Whatever he was working on would've been worth a fortune.

Yeah, I feel a deep sense of loss.

You being a woman alone,

I figured maybe you had somethin' needed fixin'.

Do you suppose I could take the boy in

and make a home for him?

Tommy needs Irene, his mother.

-But there's blood. -I cut myself.

It's nothing. Go back to bed!

[cheerful orchestral music]

Checking to see if any of your books

have been discounted, Jessica?

Simon, you know, I really should be annoyed with you.

The season's almost over and nary a phone call.

I'm beginning to think that those stories

about you becoming a recluse are true.

They are. I should know.

I started them myself.

Oh, well, that's no reason to neglect your friends.

I've been very busy, my girl. Work, work, and more work.

Dozens of new seascapes piled up

against the studio walls?

A few, but mostly I've been reworking one canvas.

Something very special.

Oh.

Jessica! What a coincidence.

-Eleanor. -Ah!

I just came in to buy one of your books.

My books?

I thought I gave you and Simon a copy of every one.

I was going to phone you.

We really have seen nothing of each other all summer.

-I know. -Don't feel slighted.

She's been ignoring me as well.

Uh... well.

W-weekends at the cove are about all I can manage.

I'm having the duplex redone, and it's a full-time job,

dealing with the galleries and the journalists--

I deal with the art. Eleanor handles the commerce.

Sounds like a good arrangement.

Otherwise, Simon would never have any time to paint.

Left to his own devices, Simon wouldn't see anyone,

which is a situation I intend to correct.

Would you be free to come over

for a small, informal dinner party tonight, Jessica?

Oh, my goodness.

That sounds delightful. I'd love to.

Well, which reminds me, I've got some marketing to do.

Um, 8:00? Elegant casual?

-Fine. -Great.

-Bye-bye. -Bye-bye.

Oh, and I have got to pop in and see Amos Tupper

and tell him that the Founders' Day

Committee meeting has been postponed.

He'll be heading off for lunch. Good-bye, Simon.

If you ask me, stealing another boy's bicycle

is a serious matter, Amos.

Well, now, the way it looks to me--

Tommy didn't steal your son's bike, he found it.

Where exactly did you find it, Tommy?

Behind the softball field in the tall grass.

Oh, guess rodney must've left it there, Mrs. Sommers.

You must not have missed it, 'cause we never got a report.

That has nothing to do with it.

The fact that Mrs. Rutledge's ragamuffin kid here

took it home makes it theft.

Well, it was startin' to rain.

And I didn't want it to get rusty.

With the kind of trash that's been moving

into Cabot Cove lately,

we're gonna have to lock everything up around here.

We may be poor, Mrs. Sommers. We are not trash.

Got no father, has he?

His father died before he was born.

Now just hold on here!

Now, the fact that Irene-- Mrs. Rutledge

brought the bike in here lookin' for its rightful owner--

Well, that makes it a simple matter

of lost and found in my book.

And as far as I'm concerned, that's the end of it.

[muttering] Next thing you know,

he'll take somebody's car for a joyride.

Thank you, sheriff.

Hope we didn't cause you a lot of trouble.

No trouble.

Lucky Tommy found it before somebody else.

And lucky he had a mother who knew where to bring it.

-Hello, Mrs. Rutledge. -Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, by the way, I wonder if you'd be available

to help out at the Founders' Day picnic.

I'm looking for volunteers.

Oh, I-I don't know.

Well, why don't you think about it and let me know.

I noticed Martha's tongue has lost none of its sting.

Yeah. Poor little guy.

Tommy's about the only kid in town without a bicycle.

When I was about his age,

I found a pair of skates at the mill pond.

Kept hoping that nobody would claim them,

but somebody did.

You know, Amos, I've got an old bike in my garage.

Frank used to ride it.

-[gasps] -Afternoon, ma'am.

Good afternoon.

Name's Cash Logan, ma'am. I do odd jobs around here.

Looks of your place, you being a woman alone,

I figured maybe you had somethin' needed fixing.

Thank you, Mr. Logan, but, uh,

I'm afraid I can't afford any repairs right now.

Well, I ain't in no hurry to get paid or nothing.

Hello, Mrs. Rutledge.

Well, you ever need any help with anything,

you keep me in mind, okay?

That's a fine-looking boy you got there.

Mrs. Fletcher,

if you've come about the picnic volunteer work,

I don't have anything proper to wear.

Oh, we'll just be wearing sweaters and jeans.

Well, maybe next time. Thanks for asking.

Uh, speaking of clothes,

I was just clearing out my garage,

and I found this old bicycle that my husband used to ride.

I really don't have any room for it anymore,

and I-I wondered if Tommy might have some use for it.

We'd have to lower the seat, of course--

I'm sorry, Mrs. Fletcher.

We can't afford to buy the bike, and we don't take charity.

Oh, of course not. Oh, my goodness.

I'm afraid it's my turn to be embarrassed.

I should have started at the beginning.

You see, the weeds are just taking over my yard.

And, uh, well, I wondered if Tommy

might come over and help me to dig them out after school.

I thought maybe he might take the bicycle in payment.

Could I, mom?

-All right. -[laughs]

Great! Well, then, that's settled.

Tommy, you could keep the bicycle here

and, uh, just ride it over to my house.

Yeah!

Well, since you've been kind enough to pay a visit,

won't you come in for some coffee?

Oh, I'd love a cup. Thanks.

[laughter]

This absolutely scruffy fellow

comes off Fifth Avenue and into my gallery.

I thought he'd been sleeping in Central Park.

[laughs]

He probably came in to get out of the cold.

Well, I'd already buzzed security

when he had picked out six of Simon's seascapes

and wrote me a check in seven figures.

I know. He found somebody's checkbook.

More likely mugged someone.

Naturally, I don't waste time on people of that ilk.

I'd already refused his check and had him hustled out.

Is it just instinct

or is there a little twist to this story?

Your instincts do not fail you, Jessica.

The next morning, I just happened

to be glancing at the Times,

and there was this gentleman's picture.

He was giving a rock concert at Madison Square Garden.

So you see, you can't always judge

a man by his clothes.

Seven figures?

I feel a deep sense of loss, Felix.

Not to mention my commission.

You know, Simon, when you gave me

that little seascape 20 years ago,

I had no idea.

I hope you have it well-insured.

If you ever decide to part with it, let me know.

Not on your life.

You know, George and I have three Simon Thanes.

Mm-hmm.

Best investment we ever made.

Makes the Dow Jones look sick.

You know, even though we're only summer people

here at the cove, I think we ought to arrange

some kind of Simon Thane art festival.

Don't you agree, Jessica?

-Well-- -Good Lord, no.

That would be the end of my privacy.

Well, Simon lets nothing interfere with his work.

Just what have you been up to this summer, Simon?

You've hardly sent me anything.

I'm trying something different.

It might just be the very best thing I've ever done.

Perhaps less profitable.

It sounds interesting. Can we see it?

I'm afraid that Simon is becoming

secretive in his golden years, Jessica.

Even I haven't seen it.

He keeps it covered up out there in the studio.

[bell ringing]

Hmm.

A pinch of mystery always adds luster to an artist's aura,

not to mention value.

I shall immediately begin to scatter hints

among the board members of the Met.

[all laughing]

Thank you, Felix.

The role of the artist is always to break new ground.

Otherwise, he may as well go into commercial illustration

and paint beer bottles for a living.

Oh, thank you, Irene.

Oh, I must say that looks absolutely mouthwatering.

Well, now that we've finished carving up the artist,

shall we, uh, start on the roast?

First-class dinner, Eleanor.

Thank you, George,

actually, the girl did everything.

Oh, you must give us her number.

Yes, Irene, it was simply delicious.

Oh, George, please don't choke us all

with that vile cigar smoke.

[laughs]

Has everyone noticed

what a purist Carol has become in only a month

since she gave up that vile cigarette smoke?

Ha!

[clearing throat]

All rumors to the contrary,

I value an evening like this with friends,

especially old and dear friends.

But, of course, I must be reminded

of how much I enjoy it by a lovely lady

who has enriched my life beyond measure,

a wonderful woman who has provided me

with love and support,

even though, on occasion, we disagree.

[chuckles]

To Eleanor, without whom I would be nothing.

-May I tell them? -Of course.

Simon and I are leaving in two weeks

for one month in Italy.

A second honeymoon.

Oh, how lovely.

The man's a veritable fountain of creative juices.

Why, Eleanor, now who's being secretive?

You didn't even tell me, your closest friend.

[clock chimes]

My goodness. Midnight.

Well, they do say the mark of a perfect guest

is to know when to leave.

I was gonna have another brandy.

Well, George, you've had enough

to open your own monastery.

[laughs]

And I'm afraid I have one of those

annoying headaches coming on.

Can I give you a hand to tidy up the kitchen, Eleanor?

Oh, heaven's no, Jessica. The girl will take care of it.

Can I give you a ride home, Jessica?

I'm staying at Hill House.

Well, Felix, that's very kind. Thank you.

Pleasure.

[dog barking, whining]

-Mom, what's wrong? -Nothing. Go back to bed.

-But there's blood! -I cut myself.

It's nothing. Go back to bed!

[tires screeching]

[coughing, crying]

Oh, god, no.

I'd say the knife went right through his heart.

He couldn't have lasted more than a couple of seconds.

Oh!

Who would've wanted to kill that gentle, gifted man?

Seth, when do you think he died?

Oh, you can't put too fine a point

on these sorts of things.

I'd say somewhere between, uh, midnight, 2:00 a.m.

looks like it was a carving knife.

[sighs]

Simon used it to carve the rack of lamb last night.

Well, no sign of a break-in.

Mrs. Thane says the door was standing open

when she discovered the body this morning.

-Strange. -What's that?

Well, everything's ready for painting.

The oil colors on the palette are wet.

But there's no picture on the easel.

Hmm.

Everything's dry back here too.

I always did like Simon's work.

I have a calendar in my office.

Some of his best stuff on it.

[sniffs]

All his things.

As if he was just going to walk in,

put on his smock, and light up his pipe.

[chuckles]

One of the hardest things about losing a husband

is all the little things he leaves behind.

[lighter clicks]

Sooner or later, when the pain subsides,

you have to put them away.

[crying]

We had the airline tickets,

reservations at a little pensione in Florence.

I can't believe he's gone.

[sobbing]

Eleanor, I'm so sorry.

If there's anything I can do,

any business details I can take off your shoulders.

[clears throat] Uh, I'm sorry,

but I got to ask some questions, Mrs. Thane.

When was the last time you saw your husband alive?

After everybody had left.

I guess it was a little after midnight.

Simon said he had some work to do out in the studio.

I went up to bed.

Was that usual, him workin' at night?

Oh, he worked at all hours.

Anyway, I woke up this morning,

and I realized that he hadn't come to bed.

So I went-- I went out to the-- to the studio looking for him.

Eleanor, there was no sign in the studio

of any painting in progress.

Did you, by any chance, remove it for safekeeping?

No.

All I saw was Simon lying on the floor.

Could be we're dealin'

with a theft as well as a murder.

Whatever he was working on would've been worth a fortune.

Sheriff, I suggest an inventory be made of the studio

as quickly as possible.

Yeah, good idea. Just who was here last night?

Well, George and Carol Selby were here.

Oh, right, that lawyer fellow from Boston and his wife,

the one that was talking about having

a Simon Thane art festival at the town meeting.

They were the first to leave.

And I dropped Jessica off on my way back to Hill House.

Hmm, anybody else?

Only the six of us.

Oh, except that girl, of course.

Irene Rutledge.

Hmm.

Yes, she was still cleaning up in the kitchen

when I went up to bed.

Well, Amos, the autopsy only confirms

what I've already told you.

Massive penetration of the left ventricle.

Must've killed him in seconds.

Nothing else? No marks, no bruises?

Nothing. Oh, a little paint on the knife.

-Paint? -Yeah.

Smeared all over the blade, underneath the blood.

Pinkish. I expect it was oil paint.

Hmm. That's very strange.

You say Simon used it to carve the roast?

Well, then Irene Rutledge must have handled it

when she cleaned up.

Uh, did you say Irene Rutledge?

-Yes. -What about her?

Well, I saw her on the street last night,

not far from Thane's place.

-When was that? -Uh, just after 1:00 a.m.

Amos, if Irene was still there at 1:00,

one hour after everyone else left,

she might have seen or heard something.

Right.

Maybe we should go have a talk with her.

No, I didn't see anyone or hear anything before I left.

Hm, and what time was that, Mrs. Rutledge?

Um, just after midnight.

Are you sure about that?

I mean, could it have been more like 1:00?

No, I'm certain. I checked.

I get paid by the hour.

Mrs. Thane went up to bed,

so I latched the door and let myself out

and went straight home.

[chuckles] Well, now that's not what--

Irene, all these boxes. Are you moving?

Yes, I thought I could find a job in Portland.

Looks like you're packin' up in a hurry.

What's this?

Oh!

Those are lovely!

Where'd you get these, Mrs. Rutledge?

Mr. Thane threw them away.

Now, just hold on here.

Some valuable artwork is missin' from Thane's studio.

Irene.

These are drawings of you and signed by Simon Thane.

But he was going to throw them away.

When I admired them, he signed them

and gave them to me.

She didn't steal 'em.

My mom doesn't steal!

Now, just take it easy, son.

Were you awake when your mom came home last night?

She came home at 12:00, just like she told you.

I remember because I looked at the clock.

Sheriff, I found this out back stuffed in the trash barrel.

Irene, isn't that the dress you wore last night?

Looks like blood, sheriff.

She-- She cut her finger on a glass I broke.

That's all it was.

Must've healed pretty quick.

I'm afraid I'm gonna have to take the dress in

for lab analysis, Mrs. Rutledge,

and I'm gonna have to ask you

not to leave town till we get this sorted out.

She lied about what time she got home.

Yeah, and Tommy backed her up.

Course he did.

The boy was trying to protect his mom.

You can't blame him for that.

That's what troubles me, Amos.

I mean, why would he think that his mother needed protecting?

They're both frightened. They're concealing something.

Maybe it was those drawings.

Eleanor Thane tells me

that Irene came over to Thane's place

a couple times a week to cook and clean,

seein' as how Mrs. Thane was only there on weekends.

Maybe Simon did give her those drawings.

I mean, he gave me a painting.

And Felix Casslaw, that art dealer fella?

He says those sketches are worth thousands

if they're signed by Thane.

Now, what if she was stealin' works of art from him?

Amos, that doesn't make any sense.

If Irene were stealing valuable artworks,

why doesn't she have the money to buy Tommy a bicycle?

Yeah. Huh, poor little guy.

Reminds me of me when I was a kid--

You got no right to bring me in.

Sheriff.

I pulled Cash Logan here over for runnin' a stop sign.

Found this in the back of his truck.

Just might be that picture stolen by Thane's murderer.

And it's still wet.

[phone rings]

Hey, could be this is a picture of Irene Rutledge.

Yeah, but with the face missing it's hard to tell.

Sheriff. Telephone.

Mr. Logan, where did you get this?

I found it.

I was takin' a load to the dump early this morning.

It was stuffed in an old carton.

I see. But why did you take it?

Somebody threw it away, but I figured,

it being a Simon Thane painting,

it might still be worth something.

How did you know that it was a Simon Thane painting?

He was carrying this in his belt under his coat.

I use it in my work for cuttin' rope.

There ain't no law against that.

Thanks a lot.

Well, that was the police lab in Portland.

The blood on Irene Rutledge's dress

matches Simon Thane's in all points.

Afraid I'm gonna have to arrest her for murder.

Me? Why would I kill Mr. Thane?

[sighs]

I am sorry, Mrs. Rutledge,

but you lied about what time you left Thane's place.

Now, you sure had access to the murder weapon.

And his blood was all over your clothes.

But I had no reason to kill Mr. Thane.

He's been very good to me.

Could be you repaid him by stealin' those drawings.

Maybe he caught you at it.

No!

Amos, there could be another explanation.

Well, if there is, I'd sure like to hear it.

Irene, did you pose for Mr. Thane?

No.

But you must have posed for those charcoal drawings

that you said that he gave to you.

I never posed.

He just did some sketches

while I was working around the place.

Did you see something last night?

Perhaps something that

you were afraid to tell us about?

No, I didn't see anything.

Well, if that's your final word,

Mrs. Rutledge, I got no choice.

Lock her up.

What about my son?

Well, I'll look after him.

At least until we sort this thing out.

She's lying.

It's as plain as the nose on your face.

Yes, she's certainly concealing something.

Has all the earmarks of a crime of passion.

Passion?

Oh, I know that Simon Thane

is something of an institution around here.

But just because there's a little snow on the roof

don't mean that there's no fire in the hearth,

if you get my drift.

Oh, I get your drift, Amos.

I just think your anchor is slipping.

That oil painting, the one that was slashed,

was of a lady in the altogether.

Could be that there was some hanky-panky

going on between Thane and his model.

Amos, Simon Thane was an artist.

To him, his model was more likely, uh--

Well, an interesting composition of line, color, and shading.

Maybe so.

But when a lady takes her clothes off,

well, human nature being what it is.

I know he's frightened,

but he won't allow himself to show it.

He's a tough little guy.

Probably already has had his share of hard knocks.

Amos, what do you think will happen to Tommy

if Irene is convicted?

Well, seein' as how his father's dead,

and Irene's got no other livin' kin,

he'll probably go to an orphanage,

maybe a Foster home if he's lucky.

I just can't believe that Irene is guilty.

Uh, I was thinkin' of goin' down

to the diner for a burger.

Maybe Tommy would like to go along, huh?

A boy that age needs lots of nourishment.

Well, that's a good idea.

And I'll look into what Irene needs.

What?

A good lawyer.

Oh, yeah.

I'm so glad you dropped by.

You know, with Simon's tragic passing,

I do think we should arrange

a commemorative showing of his works.

Now, I know that George and I would be honored to lend ours.

And I think you would be the perfect person

to organize it, Jessica.

And you do have a Thane original too, Jessica.

It might be just the thing to put Cabot Cove on the map.

Well, it's certainly an interesting idea,

but perhaps a little premature under the circumstances.

Oh, yeah. I see your point, Jessica.

There may be a whiff of scandal concerning that Rutledge woman.

Actually, George, that's what I wanted to talk to you about.

I mean, Irene needs a good lawyer,

and, George, obviously you're one of the best.

But my practice in Boston takes all my time.

I mean, normally I'm only here on the weekends.

Well, obviously there's no money in it.

But the case would undoubtedly attract national attention.

Yes, George.

Now, no matter what that poor woman did,

she's entitled to a fair trial.

Well, I suppose I could at least look into it.

Oh, good. Then it's settled.

Oh, dear, I said I'd drop in and see Eleanor.

Mmm, I've got to run too.

And there's that poor little boy to consider.

Oh, what's his name? Tommy.

Can I offer you a lift, Jessica?

Well, if it's not too much trouble, George.

No.

George, couldn't you pull some strings

and find some private school that would take the boy?

I'll make some phone calls.

Well, if there's anything George and I can do to help.

Well, maybe George can prove that she's innocent.

Thank you.

No, it's too soon for me to even think about a showing.

Well, look, you'll have to talk to Felix about that.

Look, we'll discuss it in a few weeks.

I've got to go now. Right.

Oh, Jessica, how sweet of you.

Are you feeling a little better?

Oh, keeping busy helps.

-Good. -There's so much to do.

Felix tells me they've arrested that woman.

Oh, you mean Irene.

Yes, Irene.

Well, I don't think all the facts are known.

I mean, she might be innocent.

Really? Do you have another theory?

Oh, no, no. Just, um, nagging doubts.

About what?

Well, I'm curious about something.

Did a man named cash Logan

ever do any odd jobs around here for Simon?

Well, being that I only come up here on weekends, uh,

I never met him, but, yes,

I seem to remember Simon mentioning his name to me.

Uh, bringing firewood,

hauling the rubbish, that kind of thing.

He's the one who found the slashed picture,

a nude study.

[sighs]

That was so strange, a total surprise to me.

Then you didn't know who was posing for him?

Well, I assumed it was Irene.

I mean, I heard about those-- the sketches.

Yes, well, the same thought had occurred to me.

But strangely enough, she denied it.

It's very puzzling.

Oh, by the way,

was that Felix Casslaw's car I noticed outside?

Yes, he's here.

It must be such a comfort,

having an old friend of the family close by

at a time like this.

Well, yes, he's out in the studio,

doing an inventory of Simon's pictures.

Sorry, did I startle you?

Jessica, you really shouldn't creep up on people.

Felix, the door was wide open,

and I didn't want to break your concentration.

You've got his signature down very well.

Well, you see, Jessica,

uh, since these are unquestionably Thane paintings,

the signature is merely a technicality.

And a signed Simon Thane is "technically"

more valuable than an unsigned one.

Precisely.

Simon rarely signed his work

until he packed it off to my gallery.

It's a question of protecting

Eleanor's interest in the estate.

Eleanor has given her approval, of course.

-Oh, of course. -I'm glad you understand.

Oh, there are some subtleties about the art business

that I will never understand.

Yes, well. [chuckles]

Was there something you wanted to see me about?

Yes, there was.

The painting that was stolen, the slashed painting.

I don't remember. Did Simon sign it?

Sorry. I never saw that painting.

Oh, yes. Of course.

How forgetful of me. Nobody saw the painting.

Except Simon, of course, certainly the model,

and whoever murdered him.

You mean the Rutledge woman.

Oh, look.

What a handsome lighter. Is it yours?

I don't smoke.

Perhaps it belonged to Simon.

Well, I'll give it to Eleanor.

I'm sure she'd want to have it.

There's no doubt in your mind, is there,

that Irene Rutledge killed Simon?

Well, until everything is brought out into the open,

there's always some doubt.

Well, don't let me keep you from your work.

-How's my son? -He's fine.

And thanks to Amos Tupper, he's eaten very well.

I don't know how to thank you for taking care of him.

No trouble at all.

Mrs. Fletcher-- Jessica-- can't you help us?

Irene, I want to help you.

But I can't if you won't tell me the truth.

-But I'm afraid. -Yes, I know that.

Irene, what really happened?

[sighs]

Mrs. Thane had gone to bed,

so when I finished cleaning up in the kitchen,

I went out to the studio to see Mr. Thane, to get paid.

And?

Well, he was lying on the floor.

I didn't know what was wrong.

I went to him, turned him over.

There was blood on my hands.

And he'd been stabbed with a carving knife.

He was dead.

I panicked. I-I ran away.

But Irene, why didn't you telephone the sheriff

or at least call Mrs. Thane?

No, I couldn't get involved. I just couldn't.

But you had done nothing. Why were you so frightened?

I didn't kill him, Mrs. Fletcher.

You must believe that.

Try to remember.

Was there a painting on the easel?

Um, no, the easel was empty.

And the knife? Hadn't it been in the kitchen?

Well, I remember carrying it to the kitchen

when I cleared the table,

but, no, it wasn't there when I put things away.

Irene, are you telling me everything?

Yes.

The roots, Tommy.

Make sure you get right down to the roots.

Oh! [chuckles]

Just showin' Tommy here

the best technique for pullin' up weeds.

Boy sort of needs a man

to show him how to get the hang of things.

Yes, it's a vanishing skill. Hello, Tommy.

Hi.

Sheriff Tupper was just telling me

how he broke the passing record

at the cabot cove panthers championship game.

It was so long ago, you probably don't remember.

Oh, is that the year they made you

the captain of the team, Amos?

Yeah, and after the game,

they carried him off the field on their shoulders.

Oh, my goodness. So long ago, I'd forgotten.

Um, isn't it time you two took a break?

Oh, right.

Tommy, why don't you hop on your bike there

and go on down and get us a couple of ice cream cones.

And make mine raspberry, huh?

I'll be back before they melt.

Sheriff, this just came in for you, special delivery.

Thanks.

Thought you might want to see it right away.

Been doing a little checking up

on Irene and Tommy's background.

Amos, what is it?

Well, according to the hospital records

where Tommy was born,

his mother died in childbirth.

If Tommy's mother died in childbirth,

then who exactly are you, Mrs. Rutledge?

If that's what your name is?

Is that what you've been hiding, Irene?

[sighs]

Irene Rutledge was a friend.

She was very sweet, very scared.

She had no family, no husband, and she was pregnant.

And we became very close.

When she died... [clears throat]

I told the people at the hospital

that I was her sister.

And I took the baby and I left town.

And I've been running ever since.

So you took not only her baby but her name?

And is that why you were afraid

to become involved in Simon Thane's murder?

I wanted to adopt him legally.

I even tried once.

But I don't have any money. I'm not married.

I just kept moving.

And Tommy doesn't know?

He thinks you're his mother?

Well, if that don't beat all.

[crying]

And now they're gonna take him away from me.

Well, we'll deal with that later.

Right now you're facing a murder charge.

Isn't there anything you remember about that night?

Even something insignificant?

Uh, well, um...

While I was cleaning up in the kitchen,

I-I thought I heard a car door slam.

Sheriff, this just came in over the teletype.

Mm-hmm.

Mmm, a rap sheet on Cash Logan.

He knifed some fella in a bar fight.

Nearly killed him.

Got ten years in the pen for aggravated assault.

According to these dates, he came to Cabot Cove

soon after he was released.

Well, Cash hasn't been in any trouble here,

but that business about knifing somebody.

Poor little Tommy.

What's gonna happen to him now?

You really like him, don't you, Amos?

I see a lot of my own childhood in that boy.

I was raised by a widowed mother,

deep in the depression, not much money.

Never could afford the kinda stuff other kids had.

Really.

Do you suppose I could take the boy in

and make a home for him?

Tommy needs Irene, his mother.

But she isn't even his real mother.

Well, only two of us know that, Amos,

and as far as I'm concerned--

Sheriff Tupper!

Tommy.

-I got the football, Sheriff. -Yeah.

Sheriff Tupper's gonna show me

how to throw a 50-yard spiral.

Ooh.

Well, might be a rad rusty after all these years.

Here's your change, Sheriff.

Okay. Let's go.

There you go.

Here it comes.

Grip the laces now, the laces.

In the laces?

Huh.

Okay, now you go out for a long one.

This way.

Here it comes.

Oh, sorry!

You're doin' pretty good there, Tommy.

I'll give you a tip.

Use both hands, and pull it in to your chest.

Go ahead.

Little bit of glue and that chair

will be as good as new.

Maybe.

Some things can be fixed, and some can't.

Like that painting you picked up at the dump.

What about it?

There's no way that that can be repaired, you know.

Why did you really pick it up?

I already explained all that to the sheriff.

Was it because you thought that Irene

was somehow involved in Simon Thane's murder?

I don't know what you're talking about, ma'am.

Really?

Is it merely coincidence

that you went to prison just before Tommy was born

and that you came here

to Cabot Cove when you were released?

I did my time.

Ain't nobody gonna touch me here.

I think you came to Cabot Cove

to find a woman named Irene Rutledge and her child.

You're Tommy's father, aren't you?

Ain't no kid deserves an ex-con for a father.

I ain't sayin' I am,

but supposing 11 years ago, I cut up some loudmouth drunk

insulted the woman that was carrying my child.

Supposing that that woman died

when I was in jail.

Why, I'd do just about anything

to make sure nothing ever happened to that boy.

-Even murder? -Maybe.

If I really was the father, which I ain't.

Yes, well, um--

Oh, you seem to have some paint on your jacket.

Yeah, must've got it

when I was handling that wet painting.

Yes, yes.

Of course. Thank you, Mr. Logan.

Isn't it wonderful, Jessica?

George has found a boarding school

that will accept Tommy.

And there's no reason any of his peers

will ever have to know... about his mother, I mean.

Obviously, you've gone to a great deal of trouble.

Yeah, well, I've persuaded one of the bright young men

in my office to handle her case.

Oh, dear, heaven's sakes. I'm so sorry.

Oh, well, no. The fabric's protected.

It'll wipe right off. Oh, dear.

You see.

Oh, my goodness. What's this?

Huh. Somebody's lighter.

So that's what became of my lighter.

[chuckles]

Yes, I would have taken Irene's case myself,

but you see, I already have a very full calendar.

I don't think that Irene's case will come to trial.

You mean she's confessed?

No, I mean that someone else killed Simon.

Good heavens. Do you know who?

Yes, I'm afraid I do.

You see, Irene heard a car door slam

when she was clearing up the dishes.

The killer must have taken Simon's picture

away with him in the car.

Really, Jessica? Are you sure?

Fairly sure. It's logical.

Wet oil paint makes such a mess.

I even got some of it on the sleeve of this jacket.

This is the same jacket I was wearing, George,

when you gave me a lift in your car.

Oil paint in my car? What?

Someone must've tried to clean it up,

but some was still left on the armrest.

Are you saying that I murdered Simon?

I'm sorry, George.

That lighter, your lighter,

I didn't find it between those cushions.

That lighter was in Simon's studio,

and it's not the sort of lighter that a pipe smoker uses.

But I haven't seen this lighter in months.

When Carol and I were both smoking,

we had them all over the place.

I mean, we were always losing them.

George, I'm so sorry.

Jessica, what is this all about?

I came here thinking you were the murderer,

but, of course,

it wasn't Irene who was posing for Simon.

Don't be ridiculous.

Carol? Oh, Jessica, that's nonsense.

No, I don't think so.

You were always such a devoted admirer

of Simon's genius.

I don't know why it took me so long to put this together.

The cigarette lighter was in the pocket

of Simon's dressing gown,

the same gown that he lent you when you were posing,

which obviously started before you gave up smoking.

-Carol? -Oh, George.

Don't look at me like that.

While I was in Boston during the week,

you were having...

an affair with Simon?

It wasn't like that.

We shared something spiritual.

Yes.

A long summer...

of intimacy with a man that you greatly admired.

Oh, he was the most exciting thing

that had ever happened to me.

His creative energy,

his-- his excitement.

I suppose I fell in love with him,

and I thought he felt the same thing for me.

And then the night of the party, I--

I realized it was Eleanor he loved and always had.

And you suddenly developed a headache.

I had made a fool of myself.

And when that painting was made public,

everyone would know.

I had to destroy that painting.

I waited until I thought everyone had left,

and then I drove back.

And while Irene was cleaning up,

I went in through the kitchen--

She was still clearing the table--

And I found the butcher knife and slipped out to the studio.

He was the finest thing that ever touched my life.

And I killed him.

So that's how you got the paint smudge on your jacket.

Yes.

Carol carried the portrait to the dump in the car,

after tearing out the piece of canvas that showed her face.

Yeah, she left it there where she figured it'd be burned,

but Cash Logan found it.

Yes, apparently she'd tried to clean up the car,

so that George wouldn't know.

But she missed a smudge,

which I brought away on my jacket.

Well, that's all well and good.

But what am I gonna do

about the fact that Irene Rutledge

has no legal claim to Tommy?

Amos, if I were you, I would develop amnesia.

Hmm.

Save a lot of paperwork too.

-[knocking at door] -Hello?

Oh, hi there, Tommy, Irene.

Jessica, we just stopped by to thank you again

for everything you've done.

Oh, my goodness. Uh, would you like some coffee?

No, we really can't stay.

Sheriff.

It looks like I won't be able to go fishing with you Saturday.

No? Why not?

Cash Logan has invited us to go on a picnic.

We had a long talk about things. He's really a very nice man.

I think I ought to go along.

Well, you being the man of the family, Tommy,

I certainly understand.

Don't you, Amos?

Well...

Anyway, thanks again. Come on, Tommy.

-Bye. -Bye, see you.

I'm not sure I like the idea of her keepin' company

with the likes of that Cash Logan.

I wouldn't be a bit surprised

if they started seeing quite a lot of each other.

How about some more coffee, Amos?

And I will tell you something else

to put into your amnesia file.

[cheerful orchestral music]