Original subtitles

You expect me to go in there and seduce Dennis Stanton? I expect Lindsay to go

and seduce him.

It had something to do with adultery, didn't it? I beg your pardon?

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote. Fire!

Somebody get a fire extinguisher!

I'm sure you have an alibi for when the fire started.

Oh, and which will disappoint you more, if I do or if I don't? But he couldn't

forge the paper.

Miss Barlow, are you flirting with me? Would it upset you if I were?

On the contrary. But it would lead me to wonder how soon you expect your mother

back up.

Miss Fletcher, could you please inscribe this to Nadine? I just love this new

character you've invented.

Why, thank you. No, really.

Damien Sinclair is a wonderful new addition to that roster of gentleman

thieves.

Arsene Lupin, Raffles, the Saint.

Praise is a giddy wine, dear heart. Don't let it turn your head.

Dennis?

Jessica.

Yes, your new character is amusing, perhaps.

But a pale imitation of the real thing. And I, of all people, should know.

Now, Jessica, I've booked at a fantastic restaurant in Carmel. They won't hold

the table.

Oh, but I can't. I've got all these books to sign, Dennis. Not anymore, you

don't. No, no. It's past six o'clock.

Manager's at the door, key at hand.

Time to get on with civilized pursuits.

Thank you, Nadine. I hope you enjoy the book. Oh, thank you, Miss Fletcher.

Pleasure. Nice to meet you. Nice to meet you, Nadine.

Well, book twos agree with you, Jessica. You're as lovely as ever.

Uh-oh. Whenever you start to flirt, it usually means that you have some

outrageous story to tell me. Well, of course.

And what makes this one so interesting is that you could never transmute the

hero of it, me, into that grotesque alter ego, Damien Sinclair.

Oh, why not?

Because I let the miscreants get away scot-free. Now, your Damien Sinclair

could never do anything so unheroic. Oh, I did my larcenous heart good.

You mean your formerly larcenous heart. I hope you meant... Aha!

Here we are.

Oh, yes, yes.

The recently discovered Mark Twain. But I'd heard... That it's been denounced as

a forgery. How well I know it was I who denounced it. Oh, now I remember.

Of course, an insurance policy was involved and the original manuscript was

destroyed. Oh, Jessica, whose story is this anyway?

Come on, I'll tell you all about it over a Caesar salad.

Now, most of us know Mark Twain as a kind of white-haired patriarch.

But it's important to remember as well that in his youth, he was a real ladies'

man. He wrote The Wild and Wicked Wench and had it bound as a kind of private

amusement for his mistress.

She passed the book down to Mrs.

Barlow's grandmother, who some people think was Mark Twain's illegitimate

daughter. And from there, it's come down to us in the present day.

I finally persuaded Mrs. Barlow to reveal its existence.

Why now, Mr. Erling?

San Francisco next week plays host to the largest collection of Twain experts

and enthusiasts in over a decade.

And finally, Mrs. Barlow has suffered a series of unfortunate financial

reverses, and I've offered to help her realize what's due her as custodian of

this important national literary treasure. Has anybody checked out this

book to make sure that it's not some forgery?

Well, no offense, but obviously literature and rare books are not your

beat. Otherwise, I'm sure you'd recognize Professor Chandler

Fitzpatrick. He's the country's leading expert on 19th and 20th century American

literature. I'm sure Professor Fitzpatrick would be able to answer any

questions that you'll have about the book's authenticity or its provenance.

Professor, Professor.

The Pachelbel Canon.

In deep appreciation for your help with the Eastman's case.

Well, thank you.

But how are we going to hear it without your CD player?

What's happened to my CD player?

They're boating.

DeFure, Herr Butler, likes to make his own noise.

He's been screaming for you all morning.

What is he up to now?

They're authenticating some old book. Somebody wants to insure it for $5

million. $5 million?

Good morning, Roberts.

Yeah, well, it would be if you weren't over one and one-half hours late. Well,

it was such a pleasant day. I strolled, I window-shopped. Oh, I got some

wonderful music.

Mozart, flute sonatas for me, and Spike Jones for you.

But somehow I seem to have mislaid my sound system.

Oh, well.

You will find it down at the reception desk, wrapped and ready to go home. We

are running an office here, not Philharmonic Hall.

Besides, after I'm done with this, I want to have a conversation with you

about a claim for that damaged Limoges. Oh, I wrapped up that little matter at 2

.30 this morning.

This wouldn't be the new Mark Twain book I've heard so much about, would it?

Magnificent, isn't it? In moments like this, I sense the presence of genius.

Yes.

I feel the same way often in Robert's company.

He means the book.

Insurance applied for by one...

Lawrence Ehrlich.

As agent for the owner. Yes, listen, Stephen, if you don't mind, I mean, I

have to get this done before this afternoon.

If you have nothing better to do, I suggest you might try catching up on

those reports that you have promised me all week. Certainly.

If I may just offer one small word of advice.

Examine that manuscript with special diligence.

Why?

Do you know something I don't know?

Well, all I'm saying is that five million is a great deal of money for a

book. That is what one Japanese collector has already offered. Besides,

I have already had the manuscript authenticated by no less of an expert

than Chandler Fitzpatrick.

Mr. Butler, you didn't tell me that Professor Fitzpatrick had already

certified this.

Oh, Robert, excuse me. I know you've explained these four to me a dozen

times, but this form, subsection B of 72, now is that where I enter the

estimated value of the claim or the adjusted value? No, you do not use a 72

for this. You need a 15, you've got to do it in trick... Fire! Fire!

Fire!

It's a fire! Listen, a quick fire extinguisher!

Shut that alarm off!

Shut that alarm off!

Somebody throw a fire

extinguisher!

All right, let's have the book face in this direction.

Check the seal on this case. This is awful.

Have it back in 45 minutes.

I'll be right with you.

My God.

Dennis Stanton. It must be, what, 20 years?

Nearly 25, actually.

Well, how are you, Lawrence?

Couldn't be better.

You still up to your old tricks?

What's the point, Lawrence? Are you?

I work for Consolidated Casualty Insurance Company.

Well, I suppose it was too much to hope that you were merely a Mark Twain fan.

You're not here for some kind of shakedown, are you? I mean, that was

never your style.

What could I tell anyone? That you were absolutely the best forger I'd ever met?

And second only to me as a con man?

No, no. I was better.

But all that's in the past now.

I've been legitimate for nearly a decade.

Have you?

I know. It's incredible.

But it's true. You know, all those years practicing my craft gave me entree to

the best houses. All those experts, I finally realized that I knew as much as

they did. I knew more than they did.

And it finally dawned on me that I could make just as much money for much less

risk by simply jumping the fence.

But, you know, I'm having almost as much fun now as when I was a crook.

You don't believe a word I'm saying, do you?

Well, as you said, you're almost as good a con man as I am. No, no.

I said better.

Lawrence, you have to know I will not let you defraud my company.

For the sake of our old acquaintance, I've said nothing about your past.

What past?

I was never indicted, never arrested.

Do you know, Dennis, I've worked very hard to get to where I am. If I were to

hear even the slightest public inference that I was less than totally honest, I'd

sue you for every penny you've got.

Then I take it you will not withdraw the Twain manuscript from Consolidated? You

take that manuscript to any expert in the country. I mean, the best. And I

know, because I have.

They'll all tell you the same thing.

It's the genuine article.

I mean, it's enough to make a man believe in divine providence.

Listen, I've got to get back to the display. Your man, Mr. Butler, promised

to have the manuscript back in an hour.

Dennis, you know, you of all people should believe that someone can turn

over a new leaf. I mean...

Look at you.

Yes, I'll be there in half an hour.

I really appreciate the time, old friend.

Uh, Mr. Stanton.

Oh, Professor Fitzpatrick.

Oh, it's an honor to meet you. Lawrence Earley tells me that you're casting

doubt on the authenticity of The Wild and Wicked Wench.

Now, I have a statewide reputation on this book.

What qualifications could you possibly have to question my judgment?

Professor, please understand my position as a representative of the insurance

company. Don't take refuge in petty bureaucracy, sir.

Now, you are either going to furnish some smidgen of evidence, or else you

will cease your smarmy insinuations at once.

Do I make myself clear?

And you obtained this specimen?

Some fool lit a fire in his wastebasket.

I took the opportunity to snatch this page away to safety.

Since the book would be displayed under glass, it won't be noticed for days.

Dennis, I owe you a great deal.

But I'm an old man discredited in the profession through no fault of your own.

True, it was an honest mistake.

But one does not challenge Chandler Fitzpatrick without being absolutely

sure there's no mistake, honest or otherwise.

He ruined me, but...

I've come to be content here in my library, burying in my books.

I'm sorry.

I'm a man whose judgment can no longer be trusted.

Constantin, old friend, it can by me.

Now, what if I were to tell you that it was Chandler Fitzpatrick who provided

the authentication for this book?

Oh? Oh?

Oh, oh, oh.

And you say this was discovered by a man known to be a forger? The best I ever

met.

Well, well, well, well, well.

What an appetizing prospect.

Is he going to give us any trouble?

I don't think so.

Let me do a little checking.

I'll see you later at the costume ball.

Lawrence.

Mother! Lindsay!

What are you doing here in San Francisco?

Oh, my God, you're not here with that ancient...

Rock and roll singer?

No, Mother.

Roger's still in England. And at Roger's age, they are not called ancient rock

and roll singers. They're called legends.

Look, don't say I told you so, but he threw me out.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Are you okay?

Yes. Yeah, I'm fine.

I just discovered that with legends, there are always plenty of other young

men around.

Come on, let me buy you a cup of coffee.

Oh, wait, but before we do, I'd love to take a look at this wonderful book I've

been reading about before you auction it off.

Oh, is that why you've come back?

You think I'm coming into some money.

My mother, how can you be so suspicious?

Especially since I can't understand why this precious family heirloom that's

been passed down from mother to daughter.

I've never heard of it before.

Lindsay, keep that to yourself.

This isn't a game.

I'm sure it isn't.

You better talk.

There I was, Biff.

After all these years, face to face with Lawrence Ehrlich again.

Oh, it brought back so many memories.

And you know, all I could think of the entire time was how much you loved

books.

Remember how angry you got when I dog-eared a page to mark my place?

And there I was, tearing up what might be a priceless manuscript.

Oh, well, if I'm right, it won't make any difference.

And if I'm wrong, well, I may be a bit rusty to go back to the old profession,

but...

I'm sure there are plenty of jobs for a man of my qualifications.

At the moment, I can't think of any. The city councilman denied any involvement.

The mayor, however, insists that the investigation will continue.

Earlier tonight, a blaze swept through the convention room of the Fairmont

Hotel. Damage to the hotel was minimal, fire officials said, but the newly

discovered manuscript of Mark Twain's long-lost book, The Wild and Wicked

Wench, was completely destroyed.

Lawrence.

You can't really expect to get away with this.

Can you?

Inspector Oliver.

Tenestat and consolidated casualty.

You're in charge of the investigation.

You guys carry the hotel's policy?

Only some of the contents.

I understand the fire was electrical in origin.

That's sure what it looks like.

One question I have is why it spread so fast.

You mean it may have been arson?

Boy, I sure hope so. I haven't had decent arson in months.

Nice to meet a man who enjoys his work.

May I look?

Go ahead. Be my guest.

It's a damn shame.

That was a beautiful manuscript.

Lawrence, I'm very disappointed in you.

Dennis, you don't think that... Surely you don't think that I expect to pull

something like this off on you, huh? How stupid do you think I am? I'm sure you

have an alibi for when the fire started.

Oh, and which will disappoint you more, if I do or if I don't?

Actually, I was at the costume ball wearing a little more than an oversized

fig leaf in full view of the assemblage, if you'll forgive the expression.

That's Adam.

Adam.

And if you don't believe me, I'll be glad to show you the outfit.

Oh, not before breakfast.

I'm going to get you.

Yes, I'm sure you're going to try.

Robert, not in yet?

Are you kidding?

He's upstairs.

They've had him on the carpet since eight this morning.

You insure something for five million dollars and six hours later it goes up

in flames.

Someone's liable to notice.

Robert?

Are you all right?

I still listen to you.

I never, I never should have touched that damn manuscript.

Deeding is holding me personally responsible.

What an ungenerous attitude.

Robert, I'm not saying it's possible, but if someone could prove that the

manuscript were a forgery...

Getting you and the company off the hook. What might that someone expect in

return?

Bonus?

That's what you're looking for? Some kind of reward?

Well, in a manner of speaking.

Not money. Nothing so mundane.

But to be honest, I do miss the strains of Mozart wafting through these sterile

corridors.

Don't you?

It's an old friend.

It is frustrating watching you do nothing.

Well, I'm hardly doing nothing.

I'm eating, I'm drinking, I'm reading, and I'm awaiting.

Awaiting? What?

If I knew, I wouldn't be awaiting.

Well, while you do, Lawrence Ehrlich gets away with a $5 million fraud.

This, uh, Mr. Ehrlich, there's something between you, something in your past.

See, you would talk freely about anything except your feelings and your

dear, sadly, Miss Elizabeth.

So what has Mr. Ehrlich to do with the memory of your poor dead wife?

Well, Elizabeth and I went through a difficult time once.

All marriages do, I suppose. I blame myself entirely for this one.

And... And he took advantage. Yes, it's now coming back to me.

I don't believe anything happened between them. I certainly never asked.

But yes, this may be something more than professional zeal.

Nonetheless, I feel it.

There's something all wrong.

If it comforts you, for me it also feels wrong.

But I can't put my finger on exactly why.

And I'm quite sure that the binding dates back to the turn of the century. I

also tested the ink, and it's fully consistent with the ink that was used in

San Francisco 100 years ago.

But you also said that it was a common ink, which might easily have been

artificially aged.

Yes, but there's more. You see, I've been rereading my Twain, and the writing

style is completely consistent with the San Francisco period.

And to a trained eye, the handwriting is either Twain or a superb forgery.

Lawrence Ehrlich is a superb forger, but he couldn't forge the paper.

The paper is as old as it purports to be.

So you're saying what?

That the manuscript is the genuine article?

I'm saying no such thing.

A warning bell is rung in my mind. A faint bell, but a bell nonetheless.

And until I can deduce what that bell means, I can't help you.

Hi. Miss Farland. You must be Mr. Stanton.

Well, I'm afraid my mother isn't home yet, but...

Maybe you'd like to come in and wait?

Thank you.

Very nice.

Mr. Ehrlich found it for us.

I have to confess, when I spoke to you on the phone, I wasn't expecting someone

quite so... Venerable.

I like that word. I like that word. May I take your coat?

Thank you.

And then perhaps you could assist me across the room.

Don't be touchy.

I adore older men. I find them fascinating.

They've had experiences.

Miss Parlow, you flirting with me?

Would it upset you if I were? On the contrary.

But it would lead me to wonder how soon you expect your mother back home.

Well, my mother and Mr. Ehrlich are at her publisher's going over the

transcript. Oh.

So the manuscript's been transcribed?

Yes. It's the first thing Mr. Ehrlich insisted on.

I think he'd like to foster a bidding war for the publication rights.

Mr. Ehrich thinks of everything.

Can I offer you something?

Coffee, perhaps?

Drink?

Or maybe you'd like to have dinner with me tonight?

You're a very beautiful young lady.

But suddenly, I don't know why, I'm put in mind of a runaway train.

Mother!

We were just talking about you. This is Mr. Stanton from the insurance company.

Mrs. Barlow.

A pleasure to meet you, at last.

I doubt that, Mr. Stanton.

Lawrence has told me about you.

Ah, well, I see where your daughter gets her forthright as well as her beauty.

Look, if you've come here to make trouble about our claim, I... Quite the

contrary, dear lady. My company is completely prepared to pay.

Unfortunately, there is one small technicality. You see, insurance

companies are forbidden from dispersing benefits in the cases of possible arson.

At least, until the police are easily sure that the crime... Oh, don't worry,

Mother. I'm sure he means the alleged crime.

Exactly.

The alleged crime was not committed for the purposes of fraud.

So far, we are told there is not a shred of evidence connecting you with the

fire. Oh, that's reassuring.

With any luck, you should receive your check by the end of the week.

I hope that won't inconvenience you.

Oh, not at all.

I'll leave you these forms instructing us how and where you prefer payment to

be made. Thank you.

Now, I don't wish to appear rude. I understand.

Yes. I can trim myself up.

Again, a pleasure to meet you.

How about Otto's Grotto?

8.30?

Seafood. My favorite. I'd be delighted.

Good. I'll meet you there. Oh, and since you haven't come through with the check

yet, you're paying.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Would you care to join us, Mrs. Bonner?

No, no. I, uh... I have other plans this evening.

Oh. Till this evening, then.

Business.

I'm sorry I'm not here to get your call, but leave a message and I'll return it

as soon as I get in.

Dennis! The bell finally rang.

Rang, it pealed with joy, I found it!

Forget the time.

Come over here the minute you get home.

Would you like another glass of wine, Mr. Stanton?

No, thank you, Jean-Pierre.

Looks as though I've been stood up.

Women, you know, they sometimes take forever to get ready.

Hi, I'm sorry we're late. It took me all afternoon to convince Mother to join us,

and it took her forever to get ready. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Stanton. I

realized earlier that I was terribly rude to you, and I wanted to apologize.

Totally unnecessary.

And as for minding, my only possible regret would be that to gaze at one of

you will mean looking away from Tala.

Stanton, you know as soon as I heard the victim was some kind of old book expert,

I had this gut feeling that you were involved.

When I got home, I found his message on my machine.

I came directly here.

He didn't say what he wanted?

Well, it was a private matter.

Murder makes it pretty public, Stanton.

I'll make it easy for you. It had something to do with adultery, didn't

it? I beg your pardon?

Adultery, you know, another man's wife. I figure that's what he's trying to tell

us with the book.

Book? Lieutenant, I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about.

You say he was dead when you got here?

Yeah. Now, we figure he was shot here at the desk and then somehow managed to

crawl over to the bookcase, you can see the trail of blood, and wrestle a copy

of the scarlet letter out of the bottom shelf.

Scarlet letter? Yeah, you know, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Hester, uh, what's

her name, uh, adultery, all that stuff. Anyway, the guy is dying, so I figure

he's not going over there for a little light reading material.

He's trying to tell someone something.

And since you're the one he knows is coming... May I look at the book? Yeah.

You're going to need a handkerchief.

Nothing's been removed?

Come on, this is a crime scene. Of course nothing's been removed.

Now, we checked the book. There's no notes, no marks inside the book,

nothing.

What do you think he's trying to tell us?

I mean, it has to be something to do with adultery, right?

Lieutenant, I give you my solemn word that I have no more idea of what

Constantine was trying to tell us than you do.

Why didn't you tell him about the page you took out of the manuscript?

Rhoda, darling, I'd be perfectly willing to admit my folly if it would help catch

whoever killed Constantine, but so far there's nothing definite to link the

two.

Well, listen, uh, you asked me to find out about old publishing paper.

You want to hear what I've got, or do you want to wait till morning?

Now, please.

Well... Well, first of all, there's more of it around than you'd think.

Some of it turns up every year. In the last ten years, there have been a dozen

finds, the largest of which was from an old paper factory they were tearing down

in London.

Even if you find the missing page, I don't know how you're going to prove

that that paper is this paper, because... Dennis, are you listening to

me?

Dennis, I'm sorry about your friend.

Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry.

The Scarlet Letter. I know that's got you bugged, huh?

There's a connection between the Scarlet Letter and the missing manuscript page.

But what?

Maybe Mark Twain wrote about the Scarlet Letter.

Or about Nathaniel Hawthorne, or... The Scarlet Letter. The Scarlet Letter. The

Scarlet Letter.

The Scarlet Letter.

Call it letter.

Constantine, you beautiful, devious genius.

You're looking in the wrong section.

Am I?

You shouldn't have killed him, Lawrence.

I didn't.

I don't suppose it matters now, but I didn't.

I've always hated you, Dennis.

You must know that.

You and your precious Elizabeth.

There was someone I could have loved.

But she'd have nothing to do with me, said she had... the best.

Why should she settle for... for a pale imitation?

Well, look...

I knew we'd get you sooner or later, Stanton. A good behavior couldn't last.

Now, you've not only violated your parole, but we've got you for breaking

and entering, obstructing justice, tampering with the police seal.

Lieutenant, I told you, Lawrence Ehrlich had already broken the seal.

And the longer you keep me here, the further away he's going to get.

Oh, don't make me laugh. Of course you couldn't have bothered to tell me about

Lawrence Ehrlich and the missing page until we caught you red-handed.

Because I didn't know then where the page was.

As far as I knew, he'd already retrieved it. What makes you think he didn't?

Well, of course he didn't. Otherwise, why would he have come back?

Oh, and now, like some revelation, you suddenly know where this mythical

manuscript page is.

Exactly, because I finally realized Stavros didn't mean the Scarlet Letter.

He meant the Scarlet Letter.

Now, may I?

This was the case that made Stavros' reputation.

Some dealer in Georgia claimed to have a letter from Margaret Mitchell describing

how she created the character of Scarlet O'Hara.

Constantine proved it was a forgery.

You see, what he was trying to remind me of... was the scarlet letter.

Constantine Stavros was an indifferent scholar, and very slipshod in his

methodology.

But he was an honest man, and I was very sorry to hear of his death. Well, the

message on my phone machine said that he'd found something on the page.

Well, you say it wasn't the paper.

It wasn't the ink.

It wasn't the handwriting or the style.

Mr. Stanton, I invite you to look at that page.

That's all there is. There is nothing else.

Yes, what is it? Please, I need to talk to Mr. Stanton.

Stanton, I thought you'd like to know we found Lawrence Ehrlich.

Oh, is he here in the hotel?

He was, but he stepped out.

Dennis, I'm so sorry.

It's all right, Rhoda. I knew the risk.

But it's so unfair.

The book is a forgery.

Ehrlich's suicide proves that it's a forgery. If it was a suicide, he may

have fallen or been pushed.

Well, that's no reason to fire you.

Well, of course it is.

Until we can prove it's a forgery, the Wilderwick and Wedge must be taken as

genuine. And if it ever got out that an employee of this insurance company

defaced a priceless manuscript... But it's not priceless!

Well... Now, that dear heart is what is known as circular logic.

It's sweet, it's emotional, but it wouldn't hold up in an undergraduate

debating society, much less a court of law.

And now they're going to revoke your probation.

Until I can get another job. No, not to worry.

Life is a toy chest of opportunity.

Okay, Sunderguard, this will be your desk.

Now, if you don't like the decor in here, we'll have the painters there this

afternoon.

Oh, Stanton.

I, um, I thought you left.

Without saying goodbye, I wouldn't dream of it.

Well, goodbye.

Goodbye.

Okay, Sundergard, um, come on, I'll show you the cafeteria.

Oh, they do a superb salmon surprise. I highly recommend it.

Early in the week.

Dennis? Oh!

Take care, Rhoda.

This is not goodbye.

It is au revoir.

And as soon as I'm settled in somewhere else, I'll send for you.

Promise.

Well, there's one thing that life's taught me.

Travel light.

Paper, ink, handwriting, style.

Odd you never mentioned the dye.

The dye?

What do you mean, the dye?

Along the edge.

You can't see it on a single page, but when all the pages of a manuscript are

bound together, like this book.

See? Yes, it's called the staining.

Staining, then.

Now, I saw the manuscript before it was burned.

There was staining along the edge.

There's nothing unusual about that.

Which is why I never gave it a second thought.

But then I found out about this cache of a hundred and fifty year old paper with

exactly the same mouth staining He got in touch with the people in England and

to whom do you suppose they sold the paper?

Mm-hmm Lawrence Ehrlich Astonishing coincidence, don't you think so you

still believe that book was a forgery you think that Ehrlich was able to

deceive me I think nothing of the sort. I think you were in it with him right up

to your hairy chin.

How dare you accuse me of that?

I don't know. I simply open my mouth and the oddest things come out.

In this case, however, I think an intensive comparison between the London

paper and this manuscript page will turn up some very embarrassing similarities.

Well, what if it did?

We can all make an honest mistake from time to time.

You mean like Constance and Stavros did?

Yes. All right. All right.

For the moment, let's say you were right.

Actually, I don't much care about the manuscript, but I do care about the

murder. Oh, I see.

Now, first you accuse me of fraud, and now you're accusing me of murder.

Oh, no, quite the opposite. I'm asking you to help me to catch a murderer.

Or, more precisely, a murderess.

Mrs. Barlow?

Erlich's gun was a .38. The gun that killed Constantine was a .22. A small

gun. A woman's weapon.

Easily concealed in a purse.

Now, Ehrlich and Mrs. Barlow went together to retrieve the page.

Then she came to dinner with me to establish an alibi.

Later, Ehrlich went back to search for the page, but when he told her that I

had caught him there, she panicked.

So you think she pushed him out of the window?

Well, it was the only connection that could lead to her. I also think that

Mrs. Barlow still has the .22 pistol she killed Constantine with.

All I need to do is find it.

And I need your help to make it possible to search her house.

Oh, I see.

And why should I help you?

You owe Stavros. You owe Erlich.

It was your authentication that got this whole thing started.

Yeah. Point well taken.

In return, I would see that no breath of scandal sells your otherwise impeccable

reputation.

I see.

The police can't search for the 22 without a warrant.

But if Mrs. Barlow were to be at my place for an intimate dinner, say, and

then to be caught attempting to steal the manuscript page while my back was

turned, that would certainly constitute probable cause.

You see where I'm headed, Mr. Fitzpatrick?

Mm-hmm.

All of us are in danger of going to prison.

As long as that manuscript page exists, no one of us has to get it back and

destroy it.

Lawrence never told me you were part of it. He told me we'd fooled you.

Oh, come now, dear lady.

You couldn't have brought this off without my connivance. Surely you

realize that... No, what I realize is that you'd like a cut of the insurance

money. Well, unless you would prefer me to re-examine that page and express

sudden new doubts.

Stanton keeps that page in his apartment.

What are you suggesting?

We hire a burglar to go in there and steal it?

Oh, yes.

And let another person in on our secret?

No, I think not.

Anyway, I was under the impression the two of you were on extremely friendly

terms with Dennis Denton. Oh, you expect me to go in there and seduce Dennis

Denton? Oh, no. No, of course not.

I expect Lindsay to go and seduce him.

Oh, don't be vulgar.

Vulgar?

Prison is vulgar.

He's right, Mother.

I'll do it.

Mrs. Barlow?

Good evening, sir.

Detective Ishimine at your service.

Of course, it occurred to me that I may be wrong about Mrs. Barlow. Oh, I

presume that's the gun you killed Constance and Stavros with, which you

planned to plant on Mrs. Barlow's body.

Drop it, Professor.

I'll kill him.

Now, don't move out of this room, any of you. If I get a glimpse of even one of

your moronic faces, I'll shoot.

Right, Stanton.

The reports of my death, as Mr. Twain once remarked, are greatly exaggerated.

Dennis,

welcome back.

I got you a present.

Thank you, Robert. What a pleasant surprise.

Montefiore plays the classics.

I asked the man at the store. He said you'd like it. Yes. Thank you, Robert.

That was a lovely thought.

Well, you're welcome. I will need you to talk to the district attorney. Oh, I'm

sorry, Robert. I'm still in the midst of my convalescence.

It may be a week or so before I... Oh, thank you. I can come back full time.

Oh, no, no, no. Take all the time you need.

Yes.

It's about the Barlow prosecution.

Well, I'm afraid there's a serious problem about any prosecution of the

Barlows. They had nothing to do with either murder.

Fitzpatrick not only killed Brooke Constantine, but he also confessed to

pushing Ehrlich out of the window. Without their cooperation, we could

never have caught him.

What do you mean?

They tried to defraud the company.

I'm afraid we have no physical proof of that.

No physical evidence? We have the Forge manuscript page. We don't have the Forge

manuscript page.

Lindsay Barlow went to my place to retrieve it.

As far as I know, she has it, if it still exists.

You let her destroy it? I made a deal to trap a killer. I intend to honor it. I

don't look so glum, Robert.

District attorneys do it all the time.

The Barlows have agreed to withdraw their claim for $5 million, so your

record is still intact.

Oh, they call ready.

Bye.

out there an awful long time. Any problems? None, none. Just re-explaining

the terms of our arrangement to my superior, a man not given to grasping

the obvious.

Lindsay, I didn't expect you as well.

Well, Mother said you were going on a day trip to the wine country. I thought

it sounded like fun. Lindsay, you are a loyal and concerned daughter, but don't

you think it's time that you let your mother out without a chaperone?

Yeah,

I guess it is.

Have a good time.

We plan to.

Oh, and Mother, don't let him get you tipsy. That wine can catch up on you.

Oh, and Dennis, don't keep her out too late. I expect you both back by

midnight.

Midnight?