Original subtitles

For 30 years, this house has haunted me.

[Jessica] Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

I've been looking into a murder

that was committed with a .38 here, 30 years ago.

So now we have another suspect, a dead man.

Mrs. Jarvis couldn't have murdered anybody.

She was playin' bedsheet bingo with the boss.

How dare you come waltzing in here

and make accusations against him?

Get out!

There's no way to prove suicide.

But there may be a third possibility

that nobody's considered.

[cheerful orchestral music]

Let me tell you, Mrs. Fletcher.

You can have this town at your feet.

Well, actually, Mr. Peabody, eye-level will be just fine.

Listen. Can I call you Jessica?

Jess, my job is to sell you.

Now, I've seen the material.

Then you've read The Stain on the Stairs?

Not the book, Jessie,

the clippings.

This real-life sleuth action

will play like a Beatles reunion.

Miss, can I get some extra goat cheese on my duck salad?

I'll tell your waiter, sir.

So we book you and some of the people

whose murders you've solved

on a couple of the talk shows.

Don't you think it would be

a little difficult to book the victims?

You think they might want too much money?

A joke. You know what I mean.

Look at this.

"Scribe Pens Killer into Pen,"

"Writer Rights Wrong..."

Mr. Peabody,

wouldn't it seem as if

I was trying to profit

from people's misfortune?

This is Hollywood, J.B.

Mrs. Wilson,

why don't we let the florist handle that?

Yes, I'm sorry, sir.

[laughing]

Seth, I know this sounds just terrible,

but it's just too nice to work here.

And they keep sending up these... These baskets.

I've got more spoiling fruit than a zoo.

[knocking]

Oh, oh, there's the door again.

See you at the end of the week, Seth.

Good-bye.

[chuckles]

Please, Mrs. Fletcher, uh...

I know I'm imposing,

but could you give me

just a little minute of your time?

You work in the restaurant, don't you, Mrs....

Wilson. Georgia Wilson.

I could be fired for coming up here to your suite.

I'm sorry to bother you, but may I come in?

Please. Of course.

Oh, God, I hate crying.

[sobs]

You must think I'm very foolish.

Uh, please, sit down.

No. No, I'm sorry.

I shouldn't have come.

What is it, Mrs. Wilson?

It's my husband, Sam.

Please, do sit down. Tell me.

Thank you.

Sam was just released from prison.

He was there for 30 years.

30 years for a crime he didn't commit.

When he came home,

I thought we could pick up and go on,

but he was broken, just broken.

He sits there and broods and waits to die.

It's almost as if he had convinced himself

that he was guilty.

Guilty of what?

Murder. That's why I came to you.

I overheard that man at lunch,

and I thought maybe...

I just...I just don't know what I could do.

Listen to his story.

I don't want vengeance, or money, or publicity.

All I want is for us, in whatever time we have left,

to have a life together.

Please, Mrs. Fletcher.

I don't know where else to turn.

[door opens]

Sam, I'm home.

Sam, we have a visitor.

This is Jessica Fletcher.

She's a mystery writer.

I'm glad to meet you, Sam.

She brought a newspaper writer to prison once.

Didn't do any good.

Don't want anything written about me anyway.

Well, I didn't intend to write about you.

I was hoping to help.

Gonna give me back 30 years?

Sam!

I didn't kill him.

Why don't you tell me what happened?

We were having a rough time of it...

Two children, house payments.

Well, Sam...Sam was doing his very best and...

Sam, we can't go on like this.

We've got to do something.

I know, dear, but what?

Why don't you ask for some more money?

You know you're worth a lot more

than they're paying you, a lot more.

I'm only the assistant bookkeeper.

Yes, but even assistant bookkeepers

and their families have to live.

How do they expect the four of us

to live on what you're getting?

Why don't you talk to Mr. Jarvis?

Oh, Sam, please, why don't you ask him today?

All right, I'll see what I can do.

I don't know which made me more nervous,

seeing the boss or getting past his secretary.

She really enjoyed putting me through it.

But did you get to see Mr. Jarvis?

Unfortunately.

I'm fired?

Yes.

Sir, if it's the raise...

I'm sorry, but you know

the financial condition of the firm.

You must have realized we can't go on this way.

We've got to cut expenses.

[sighs]

I've been with the firm 12 years.

I guess I expected to spend the rest of my life here.

We haven't saved much money.

I know it's going to be difficult for you,

but I can't help it, the firm just can't stand it.

The firm'll come back, Mr. Jarvis,

if you hang on a while.

You could put in some money of your own.

Money of my own?

[chuckles]

That's a laugh.

Do you know what my bank account is today, Sam?

Zero.

Maybe worse.

Maybe Mr. Herne would put in some.

Herne?

Herne and I don't get along, you know that.

He's willing to put money in

on one condition: that I get out.

But he won't pay me anything,

says the firm has no assets and isn't worth anything.

He'd sunk all of his money into the firm?

Except about $10,000.

$10,000...

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Mr. Jarvis took me out for a drink that evening,

told me he had a plan to end all our troubles.

And that's when our troubles really began.

Sam, I'm going to kill myself.

No, you're joking, Mr. Jarvis. It's the...

No, it's not the liquor, and I'm not joking.

I'm planning to commit suicide, and I need your help.

Mr. Jarvis, you mustn't think of such a thing.

He wanted to leave his wife and son the kind of security...

he couldn't provide anymore.

He'd increased his life insurance policy.

Oh, but life insurance...

usually doesn't pay for suicide.

Oh, Lord. That's why he needed help.

I want you to make my suicide look like murder.

Murder?

I've made all my plans.

I've got a good .38 nobody knows about.

I want you to come over, afterwards, and take it away.

No, Mr. Jarvis, I couldn't do that.

I'll be in the library. I'll leave the safe unlocked.

Make it look like a robbery.

He was ready to pay me his last $10,000...

to take the gun,

fire some shots inside the library...

And get rid of the gun.

Incredible!

Naturally, I turned him down.

But Mr. Jarvis wouldn't accept Sam's refusal.

Georgia and the kids were out that night when Jarvis called.

He insisted that he was going to kill himself,

and sooner than he'd planned.

I tried to talk him out of it, he wouldn't listen.

I drove as fast as I dared.

I had to talk him out of it.

But you never got a chance to.

When I arrived, the front door was open.

I went into the library,

but he'd already killed himself.

He was lying face down. There was blood all around.

Then I saw the note.

The note he'd left with the $10,000.

He begged me not to let him down.

Well, it seemed like he'd already done it,

so I took the envelope and the gun.

I left the house.

Then I remembered

I was supposed to fire some shots inside.

Well, it was too late for that,

so I fired two shots in from outside.

But didn't that prove your innocence?

How?

Well, because the killer would hardly fire shots in

from outside after killing his victim.

I mean, he'd just attract attention.

And if the killer had fired shots

from outside before going in,

why on earth would Mr. Jarvis have stayed in the library?

The evidence against me was too strong

for the police to let that bother them.

What other evidence?

Well, there was the $10,000, of course.

And the blood.

I washed my hands in the garage,

but I forgot to clean the steering wheel.

The police found blood on it from the gun.

And what did you do with the gun?

Before I went home,

I drove to the Santa Monica Pier.

I was nervous as hell.

So I walked down below the pier

where it was deserted,

by the pilings,

and I threw the gun into the water.

So the police recovered the gun...

and did a ballistics match?

No, the gun was never recovered.

But all three bullets matched.

Lieutenant Webb made that very clear

when we went to pay our respects to Mrs. Jarvis the next day.

The autopsy report shows

the bullet that killed Jarvis was from a .38.

And we recovered two .38 slugs from the wall of this room.

Ah, yes, Mr. Wilson, right there.

That look just about nailed me.

Webb hadn't said which wall they were in.

But what about the note that Jarvis left for you?

Didn't that prove your innocence?

I'd already burned it,

before I became the number one suspect.

Sam did everything he could to help Mr. Jarvis,

but did Mrs. Jarvis and Sidney try to help Sam?

You can't blame them, Georgia.

How were they to know about Jarvis's plan?

And if we'd proved that Jarvis's death was suicide,

they wouldn't have gotten that $250,000.

A quarter-million dollar life insurance policy.

What had it been before he raised it?

[chuckles] $10,000.

Well, surely that must have looked suspicious

to this Lieutenant Webb?

Not him.

Webb, the terror of the OSS,

always got his man.

Oh, he had a very convincing limp.

He just couldn't bother with insurance.

[door opens]

I'd like to meet this Lieutenant Webb.

[door closes]

Good luck.

Oh, Rod, Terry.

I'd like you to meet Jessica Fletcher.

Nice to meet you both.

You're kidding.

I just finished one of your books.

The mystery writer, honey.

Mom.

We were just at Lamaze class. [chuckles]

Boy, I haven't breathed so heavily

in about eight months.

Well, you'd be wasting your time, Mrs. Fletcher.

I tried to contact Webb years ago.

I was told he's retired and not available.

He was available enough when it came to convicting Sam.

I had such faith in him too.

Well, I have a few days here in town,

so I'd like to see what I can do.

Perhaps I can find this Lieutenant Webb or...

Sam, I believe you.

God, I idolize my father.

I even became a cop because I thought

I could use the job to clear him.

Did you ever get to see the police file?

It was missing.

Somebody removed it.

You want a file?

My own investigation, I keep it with me.

Newspapers, court records, depositions, the works.

Well, it certainly looks very thorough.

Maybe if I'd paid that kind of attention to my own career,

I'd be a sergeant, not a desk drone,

for all the good it did Pop.

Would you mind if I borrowed this for the night?

Sure.

But Mrs. Fletcher, don't get their hopes up.

I've been down this road. I know it by heart.

It's a dead end, believe me.

There's no way to prove suicide,

and the sooner my mother faces up to that,

the sooner we can get on with our lives.

You know, Rod, maybe the reason

that you couldn't prove that it was suicide...

was because it wasn't.

I thought you believed Pop.

I do.

But there may be a third possibility

that nobody's considered.

Mr. Jarvis could have been murdered by somebody else.

It will spoil.

Well, nevertheless, madam,

your publisher stipulated

you were to be given a basket each day.

Please.

But don't you have a charity

that could use all this beautiful fruit?

Charity?

Mrs. Fletcher?

Oh, oh, Rod, Sam.

Please, come on in.

Rod, you have done

an extraordinary piece of police work on this file.

We appreciate your interest, Mrs. Fletcher,

but you don't need to humor me.

Oh, believe me, I'm not.

I read that case from cover to cover

and believe me... [chuckles]

the case against you simply does not add up.

The killer could've already been in the house

when Jarvis called you, Sam.

In fact, the killer could have forced Jarvis to call you.

That would explain why he said

that the plan was going forward

sooner than he had expected.

But why?

If the killer knew the plan, then why kill Jarvis?

Well, perhaps the killer was afraid

that Jarvis wouldn't go through with the suicide.

Pop, are you okay?

30 years.

For 30 years, this house has haunted me.

Yes? What can I do for you?

Sam?

Sam Wilson?

I wasn't sure if you'd recognize me, Sidney.

How could I forget you?

The battle of Austerlitz, to scale.

Father got me started on these.

In a much smaller way, of course.

Sidney, uh, Mrs. Fletcher's a writer.

Uh, she's interested in Pop's case.

Uh-huh. I see.

Uh, Mr. Jarvis,

I realize that this may be difficult for you,

but I am trying to retrace your father's death,

to see if possibly some evidence was left out.

Uh-huh.

So that, uh, you could write a book about it.

I suppose there's a lot of money in that.

That's not it at all.

I don't mean to be rude, Sam,

but it doesn't seem quite right...

that you're here at the scene of the crime.

I'm confused, Mr. Jarvis.

I thought that you didn't believe

that Sam killed your father.

I mean, uh, didn't you confide in Sam the very next day

your suspicion of Mr. Herne?

You saw Mr. Herne at your house last night?

Yeah, he doesn't know I saw him, but I did.

And didn't that prove that Herne was lying

when he was questioned by Lieutenant Webb?

Sure, I quarreled with Jarvis several times.

Not only that, I wasn't very fond of him personally,

but that doesn't mean I killed him.

Mr. Herne, you didn't, by any chance, drop in

to see Mr. Jarvis at his home Saturday night, did you?

Why should I go see him at his home

when I could see him anytime I wanted at the office?

There may have been other suspects,

Mrs. Fletcher,

but Sam was the one they found guilty.

Sam, I'm sorry,

but I really don't see the point

in dredging up the past.

Mr. Jarvis, if Sam were guilty,

why on earth would he stir this up all over again?

I mean, he's got nothing to gain,

except peace of mind.

[chuckles]

Very persuasive, Mrs. Fletcher.

You may snoop around if you want to.

Well, thank you.

I wonder, would it be possible

for me to talk with Mrs. Jarvis?

I'm a bachelor.

Oh, I meant your mother.

-She's dead. -I'm sorry.

I imagine that you would like to, uh,

begin in the library.

It's just through here.

Thank you.

Rod, while you're at work,

could you confirm if Mrs. Jarvis is really dead?

But why would Sidney lie?

Well, that's a good question.

Mrs. Fletcher, what a pleasure.

Thank you for taking time to see me

on such short notice, Ms. Davis.

Uh, I have a confession to make.

Actually I prefer Mrs.

So do I. [both laugh]

-Please. -Thank you.

You know, I hate sitting behind a desk

when I talk to a client.

I like getting to know

who I'm working with.

You know, a friend of mine

used to work with your grandfather.

Really? Who was it?

Oh, this was a long time ago,

when Mr. Jarvis was still with the firm.

I must say, the firm staged quite a comeback

when your grandfather took over.

Yes, we're Jarvis in name only now.

Once upon a time it meant something.

Before Mr. Jarvis's unfortunate death?

I remember my friend telling me

that your grandfather was actually a suspect.

Mrs. Fletcher,

I had assumed that you wanted this appointment

for investment advice.

I don't believe that I said that, Mrs. Davis.

My friend who worked in the office is Sam Wilson.

Oh, I...I can see where this conversation is going.

So let me assure you right now

that my grandfather was cleared

of any involvement in Jarvis's death.

Well, then no harm can come to his reputation now, right?

Do you know what happened in the Jarvis mansion

the night of Mr. Jarvis's death?

He was completing a deal

for my grandfather to take over this firm.

Oh? Well, now I am confused.

At the time, Mrs. Jarvis said

that your grandfather gained control of the firm

after her husband's death.

Then she was lying, which doesn't surprise me.

John, the Bialoff account, now.

I believe that the other button is intercom.

E...Excuse me, miss?

Pardon me, but are you Miss Vante?

-Thelma? -Oh, no.

She hasn't been here for years.

Oh, I'm sorry to have bothered you.

I haven't seen her for a long time.

I used to be a client of Mr. Jarvis.

He was such a nice man, such a tragedy.

Tell me, whatever happened to Thelma?

She was such a pretty, sweet young lady.

Mrs. Fletcher?

[laughs]

It was nice of you to see me, Miss Vante.

Hell. I haven't used that name in years.

Oh, come on. Sit down and make yourself comfortable.

How about a nice glass of iced coffee?

If it's not too much trouble.

Trouble? Oh.

Oh, wait till I tell the girls... Me in a book by J.B. Fletcher.

Well, as I said on the phone,

I'm really only doing research on the case now.

What I'm really interested in is what happens to people

who are affected by murder, say, 30 years later.

Well, you know the only ones who got anything out of that

was the wife and kids.

All that insurance money,

and there I was, out in the street.

Hmm.

Oh, my, what impressive equipment!

Oh, well, that belonged to my husband.

The hunk.

I thought you might be interested.

There. There he is.

Oh, yes, he's very handsome.

He sure was, the no-good son of a...

I take it that, uh, you're no longer married?

Oh, well...

-May I? -Mm-hmm.

No, he...He dumped me as soon as a better deal came along,

and I bet he still hasn't worked a day in his life.

But you see, he... He had other qualities.

Oh.

Oh, my, what a lovely home you had!

Split-level,

with a kidney-shaped pool.

Tell me, what did you make

of Mr. Jarvis's relationship with his wife?

You don't think Mrs. Jarvis iced him?

Well, she was supposed to be

spending the weekend at their beach house,

but according to the testimony of her maid,

she arrived there well after Mr. Jarvis was dead.

Mrs. Jarvis couldn't have murdered anybody.

You mean she was too nice?

She didn't have the guts.

Good-bye, and thank you again.

My pleasure, J.B.

Be sure and send me a signed copy of that book now!

Hello?

This is a voice from your past.

Yes.

How nice to be remembered.

There seems to be some new interest in our problem.

I always thought Mrs. Jarvis was cold, Jessica,

but murdering her husband?

Well, she...She was the one

most likely to know about his plan,

and she had the easiest access to him.

Of course, that doesn't prove anything,

but it's suspicious the way she lied

about Herne's takeover of the firm.

If you believe Dorothy Herne.

-Which you don't? -It doesn't fit.

Even after Mr. Jarvis's death,

Mr. Herne still didn't know if he'd be able to take over.

But why would Dorothy Herne lie?

Perhaps to protect her grandfather's reputation,

or the reputation of the firm or maybe the firm itself.

So now we have another suspect, a dead man.

Well, maybe one of our suspects is dead,

but Mrs. Jarvis is alive.

She's been living at the Fairfield Rest Home

on and off ever since Jarvis's death.

Now we're getting somewhere.

But why would Sidney lie about his mother being dead?

Well, maybe we ought to pay her a visit

and find out first thing in the morning.

[footsteps]

[gunshot]

Jessica.

Thank God you're all right.

Oh, Rod, I told you on the phone, I'm fine,

but thanks for coming over.

Well, well, will you look at that.

They haven't made these in at least 20 years.

Is that bullet from a .38 pistol?

Sure is.

Did you see the gun, ma'am?

No, Lieutenant,

but I've been looking into a murder

that was committed with a .38 here, 30 years ago.

I can guess which one.

Well, I know the chances of that bullet

coming from the same gun are remote.

Yes, you could say that.

Look, ma'am,

Lieutenant Webb put this one to bed ages ago.

Excuse me.

Uh, to bed but not to rest.

Lieutenant Sharp,

I was shot at in the middle of the night

with a bullet that hasn't been manufactured in ages.

Why?

The motive wasn't robbery,

and it certainly wasn't an accident.

Please, humor me.

Check it out.

Jessica, you know that bullet

couldn't have come from Jarvis's gun.

Pop threw that gun in the ocean.

Well, the same gun or not,

my guess is that somebody

feels threatened by our investigation.

Mrs. Jarvis, you have visitors.

Hello, Mrs. Jarvis.

I'm Jessica Fletcher.

How nice of you to visit me.

Do I know you?

No, but I think you know Mrs. Wilson.

Georgia, Sam's wife.

Sam Wilson.

Sam Wilson.

He worked for my husband.

My husband grows roses...

out by the camellias.

Did you see them?

Yes. They're beautiful.

Hello, Mother.

I see that you have visitors.

They like roses.

Oh, do they?

Well, then,

I'll take them and show them the rose garden,

and I'll be right back.

All right?

Mrs. Wilson,

I had hoped we might meet

under more pleasant circumstances.

This must be very pleasant for you, Sidney.

Your mother's made an amazing recovery.

I assume this visit was your idea, Mrs. Fletcher?

I was hoping that your mother

could clear up something that has been puzzling me.

Well, as you saw,

she is not well enough to answer questions.

Well, perhaps you can.

You know it's peculiar

that there should be two such different versions

of the same event.

Dorothy Herne-Davis claims

that her grandfather made a deal with your father

to take over the firm on the night of his death.

Timothy Herne tricked the firm from us

in a proxy fight after my father's death.

And if you need to confirm mother's word,

it's a matter of public record.

And since Dorothy Herne is the one who's lying,

you should bother her rather than a sick old woman.

Forgive me, Mr. Jarvis,

but Dorothy Herne isn't the only one

who has been misrepresenting facts

these past few days.

If you'll excuse us.

Well, one thing is certain.

Edna Jarvis didn't climb out onto that balcony last night.

Oh, I feel so responsible, Jessica.

I didn't think anyone would want to kill you.

Well, I don't believe they were.

Well, then what...

Well, whoever fired that shot was only a few feet away.

He or she had all the time in the world

to take aim or even fire a second or a third time.

No, whoever it was meant to miss.

Then it was a warning?

Well, not necessarily.

I imagine that we'll know more

once we get the ballistic reports.

Georgia, could you give me a lift

to Herne's and Jarvis on your way to work?

Of course.

Mrs. Davis suggests that you could make an appointment.

Now, perhaps next month?

Well, I'd be happy to.

Of course, by that time

the authorities will probably have been in touch with her

about the new developments.

Come in, Mrs. Fletcher. My 11:00 just canceled.

Malcolm Jarvis was a failure,

a fraud who's been deified in death.

And his family was paid

more than their stocks were worth.

I mean, my grandfather deserved this firm

after all the work he put into it,

and what did it get him?

This...This unending suspicion.

Well, perhaps that was unavoidable.

I mean, since their argument at the mansion

has never been really explained.

Well, it... It could've been 1,000 things, uh...

They always argued about business.

I mean, that's one of my great childhood memories:

Grandfather and Mr. Jarvis arguing about business.

Mrs. Davis, you still haven't said

why you felt it necessary to misrepresent the takeover.

Why are you doing this?

Because an innocent man who spent 30 years in prison

has a right to know why.

Now, I understand you

not wanting any trouble or a lawsuit.

They wouldn't have a leg to stand on.

Unless your grandfather did kill Jarvis,

in which case, the ownership of this firm

could be in serious question.

You don't know the first thing about my grandfather!

How dare you come waltzing in here

and make accusations against him like this?

Get out of my office!

If you'll forgive me, Mrs. Davis,

it appears to me that you suspect your grandfather

more than anyone.

Yes, Lieutenant Sharp, I understand.

Well, thank you.

I'm afraid the ballistics report from Jarvis's death

is missing

along with the rest of the report,

so they can't compare the two bullets.

But surely there's some other way

to find the same gun?

Well, not without a ballistics report, I'm afraid.

Now we'll never know.

Oh, but there are several other leads

that we can track down, Sam.

Down dead-end streets? No, not me.

Mrs. Fletcher,

I have a surprise that you will just adore.

The Louis Quatorze suite,

as a humble gesture of our gratitude

for staying on after the unfortunate incident.

Well, that's awfully nice,

but you know, I'm just fine in my room.

If it means so much to you.

[both laughs]

Mangoes! That's what you need!

[phone rings]

Telephone for J.B. Fletcher.

Telephone for J.B. Fletcher.

Hello? This is Jessica Fletcher.

You have a call for me?

Yes, Mrs. Fletcher, one moment please.

Go ahead, sir.

I have some information about the Jarvis case

that might interest you.

Who is this?

You'll have to come alone.

Thank you very much.

[click, humming]

[switch clicking]

Mrs. Fletcher, I presume.

And you must be Lieutenant Webb.

You live up to your reputation.

How'd you figure me out?

Well, I read about your war wound.

And, uh...

Well, there was the timing of your call.

And, uh, Lieutenant Sharp...

must've told you about my interest in this case.

Sorry about all the intrigue.

This had to be strictly unofficial.

But why?

If you know something, why not come forward?

I don't know anything, not for sure.

It'd look pretty shabby,

me coming forward without any proof.

And truth be told,

I didn't feel up to facing the Wilsons.

I always had the gut feeling that Sam Wilson wasn't guilty,

even though all the evidence had him dead to rights.

Oh?

The DA told me to close the case quickly,

said it was my job to collect evidence,

not judge the case.

There's something on that table that might interest you.

It's the reason I called you over.

The missing police report.

Took it with me when I retired so I could ponder it.

My own Lindbergh baby, you might say.

Top page.

A ballistics report, dated yesterday?

The bullet that was fired at me?

Sharp sent it over.

Now take a gander at the one below it,

the one from Malcolm Jarvis.

The bullets match!

Like Siamese twins.

Always hated not being able to recover that gun.

Sam said that he threw the gun into the ocean

at the Santa Monica Pier.

He only told that to us. Not the press.

All we told the newspaper guys was that he dumped the gun,

not the specific location.

We were hoping to find it

and didn't want anybody else getting there first.

Yes, but somebody did get there first.

Somebody must've followed Sam to the pier

and then fished it out of the water.

And that same somebody

took a crack at you with that same gun.

After 30 years.

Kind of weird.

[sighs] You know, Lieutenant,

I have been concentrating

on who actually would have benefited

from Jarvis's death,

but the killer could've believed

that he or she would benefit

but could be wrong.

That was my theory about the tootsie.

Tootsie?

Jarvis's secretary, Thelma Vante.

Miss Vante, you know if Mr. Jarvis was insured?

Yes, I think he was.

You think he was?

Weren't you his private secretary?

Yes. Yes, he was insured.

What company?

The Standard Life Insurance Company.

I see. And for how much?

I don't know.

How would you know what company but not how much?

I figured she was playin' bedsheet bingo with the boss.

Assuming that she was the beneficiary?

On the nose.

But Jarvis checked out a family man

through and through.

And one that left his family well-provided for.

Didn't his sudden policy increase seem odd to you?

Very.

Like the perfect setup for suicide.

But you still didn't believe Sam.

The jury didn't believe him.

That wasn't my job, as I was repeatedly told.

Seems like it fits your qualifications though.

How's Sam?

Sitting in his rocker again.

This time I'm going to get to the bottom of this.

Do I look threatening?

You look very official.

Why, Mrs. Fletcher! What are... What a surprise!

Keep it down in there, you little dickens!

My grandchildren.

Uh, Thelma,

I've just come from a long chat with Lieutenant Webb

and very honestly,

he believes that you knew more about

Jarvis's insurance policy than you told at the time.

He thinks you were trying to cover up

your motive for murder.

You get rid of the cop and we'll talk.

I am not going to jail, not for anybody.

I'm not talking until we lose the cop.

I'm also Sam Wilson's son.

Is that supposed to make me feel better?

Thelma, you have nothing to worry about

if you'll just tell us the truth.

The statute of limitations on blackmail has passed.

What's that mean?

That I can't be tried for something I did...

May have done 30 years ago?

Well, not for blackmail.

There is no statute of limitations for murder.

Whoa!

Now, I didn't kill anybody.

But you did blackmail the Jarvises?

Somebody tell you something?

No.

But I imagine, as a secretary,

you didn't get paid very much money,

and after what you told me about your husband,

I have to wonder how you could have afforded that house.

The way I look at it, lady, you've got a choice.

Either you tell us who you blackmailed

here, off the record,

or I take you in and book you for murder.

Jarvis did mention suicide once or twice.

I just put two and two together to make a profit.

That's all.

Then you did know about

his change in the insurance policy.

Of course I knew.

And when I read your father's story

in the newspapers,

I figured he... He was telling the truth.

Well, then why didn't you tell the truth?

[laughs]

I was Jarvis's private secretary.

There was no job for me when he was dead.

And the cops,

they certainly weren't going to make it worth my while.

So you let my father go to jail for 30 years

even though you knew he was innocent?

Your father knew he was taking a risk

when he grabbed that 10,000 bucks.

He got cash,

the Jarvises got cash.

I got zip.

Until somebody paid you to keep quiet.

It was Mrs. Jarvis, wasn't it,

so they could collect the insurance money?

Oh, not Mrs. Jarvis...Sidney.

Did he tell you that?

Well, Mrs. Jarvis was in no condition

to make payments from a rest home.

Well, after a while,

Sidney decided that he didn't want to pay anymore.

So I suppose he told you

that if you went to the authorities

that you would go to jail for blackmail.

After your last visit, I called Sidney

to try to get some more fees out of him,

and he sang the same tune all over again.

After crying poorhouse didn't work, that is.

Can you believe the nerve of that guy?

Let's hurry, Jessica.

I can't wait to get home to tell Pop.

Finally we can prove it was suicide.

Something still bothers me, Rod.

If Jarvis did kill himself,

who fired his gun at me and why?

Well, Sidney

was afraid you'd blow the lid off the insurance money.

Yeah, but the money wasn't affected any more.

Besides, why take an action

that would only prove that we were on the right track?

It's the same gun all right.

Whoever fired the shot had something else to hide

besides the truth of Sam's story.

But using the same gun...

It just seems so stupid

to attract that kind of attention.

[inhales]

Or very smart.

Oh, yes, Rod.

Smart.

Thelma told us you paid her off to keep quiet.

The gifts of money that I gave a woman

that I felt sorry for proved nothing.

No, Mr. Jarvis,

but the gun matching these bullets will,

which I imagine the police will find

if they search the house.

And you expect a court

to issue a search warrant for a gun

thrown from the Santa Monica Pier 30 years ago?

How did you know where Sam threw the gun?

I suppose I read it in the newspaper.

But it was never reported anywhere.

Well, then, Sam must have told me.

No, Sidney, I didn't.

There was no way for you to know,

unless you followed Sam to the pier to retrieve it.

All right, Mrs. Fletcher.

You have got it all figured out.

For 30 years,

I have been hiding a terrible secret.

I killed my father.

I followed Sam to the pier, down below to the beach.

At one point, you almost saw me.

I watched you throw the gun into the water.

The tide was out.

I could hear it landed in the shallow water.

Fortunately for me, you left quickly.

I waded in and I got the gun.

I was afraid that it would wash up with my prints on it.

But, why, Sidney?

Your own father?

Yes, my own father,

for a quarter of a million dollars.

But if you'd known he'd increased his insurance,

then you'd also have known about his suicide plan,

and you would've had no reason to kill him.

What are you saying?

Sidney had another reason for killing his father?

No.

Mr. Jarvis, you didn't kill your father at all, did you?

Aren't you really covering up for your mother?

Don't be ridiculous.

My mother was at the beach house all weekend.

She didn't arrive until well after the death.

But you yourself said, Jessica, that she couldn't have...

climbed onto the balcony to shoot at you.

We were working under a couple of incorrect assumptions.

First, that whoever fired the gun

was also Jarvis's killer.

And second, that the shot was meant to kill or scare me.

But what else?

Well, it was designed to misdirect us.

You knew we suspected your mother

from the phone call you got from Thelma.

What better way to misdirect us

than to provide a new, interrelated crime

for which your mother had a perfect alibi?

She was in her wheelchair in a rest home.

You meant to miss me.

You meant for the bullet to be preserved in the chair.

You were going to take the blame yourself if necessary.

But, Jessica, why would Mrs. Jarvis

wanna kill her husband?

I don't think that she meant to.

We jumped to another incorrect conclusion.

That if Jarvis's death wasn't suicide,

it had to be murder.

What other possibility could there be?

Accidental death.

That is absurd.

I killed my father.

And recovered the gun to make sure

that any incriminating fingerprints wouldn't be found?

Yes, just as I said.

But any prints on the handle of the gun

would have been smudged when Sam picked it up.

So the only reason to worry about the prints...

would be if they were on the barrel.

A killer would have no reason to handle the barrel,

but somebody trying to take the gun away would.

Sidney, is this true?

Thelma said that your mother didn't have

the guts to murder anyone.

Now I don't believe that the woman

that I saw in the Fairfield Rest Home

could have killed her husband intentionally.

Father thought he planned it all so well.

Mother and I...

were going to spend the weekend at the beach house.

Father was going to stay in town, work.

We had just left...

when mother realized

that she'd forgotten a book in the library.

We drove to the back entrance.

Mother went in to get the book.

He...He told her to go away,

that, uh, there wasn't any more money,

all was left was the insurance.

Your mother must've realized what he was planning.

She tried to grab the gun from him,

but in the struggle...

[gunshot]

She came running out to the car to get me.

It was an accident,

but no one would believe that, not with the insurance.

You sent her to the beach house,

so that at least she'd have an alibi.

Our maid was already there.

She could vouch for her arrival.

I thought that I could fabricate a later time of death.

I went into the library...

You saw me?

You were there?

I saw you get the gun and the money.

And then father's plan became clear.

You knew!

You knew Pop was innocent,

and you let him take the rap.

I thought it would be best for everybody.

The police would've thought it was a burglary,

and you would've got the money just like father planned.

I tried to protect you.

By having your mother put pressure on the DA

to close the case quickly.

We used to be... very influential.

But it backfired when Thelma

figured out what was going on and blackmailed you.

At that point,

I had to choose between...

Sam...

and Mother.

You understand, don't you, Sam?

How can he?

You've wasted 30 years of his life.

30 years of an innocent man's life

and the lives of his family.

You knew what you were doing, and you sent him to prison,

just as if you were the judge and the jury.

How could you expect him to forgive you?

Let's go home, Georgia.

It's over.

I know.

I'll put in a call to the DA.

No, Roddy.

Pop, he's gotta prosecute.

Who?

An old lady whose guilt has eaten her away?

Mrs. Jarvis has already paid

for whatever crime she may have committed.

But what about Sidney?

He was an accessory.

He withheld evidence.

He was just trying to protect his mother,

like you tried to protect me.

We've all suffered enough, Roddy.

And I don't want to spend one more day in a courtroom.

I want to enjoy my life with this beautiful woman

and that new baby you're bringing into the world.

I understand how you feel, Pop, but...

Jessica, you agree with me, don't you?

Justice has to be served.

[sighs]

Justice is always imperfect, Rod.

Besides, sometimes there's a difference

between serving the ideal of justice

and doing what's best.

Jessica, you've given us the rest of our lives.

Bless you and thank you.

I don't know how to thank you.

Just be happy.

We will be.

I am.

[Georgia laughs]