Original subtitles

What does the IRS want?

The usual.

Money. Tonight on Murder, She Rubbed. The IRS can't find the money we withheld

from the first two quarters?

You're saying the IRS doesn't have two quarters to rub together? That's

blackmail. We may take your car and your house. We may send you to jail.

We'd never do anything as unsavory as blackmail. And what did you get?

Well, I got rid of Nolan.

I've read your stuff.

Which one of my books have you read?

Your books?

I'm talking about your tax return.

Put your hands up.

You must believe me, sir.

I don't know how the mistake was made.

Give me time. I'll get to the bottom of it.

I've never cheated on my income tax.

Never.

Before now.

Mr. Yoverton, I'm a consultant with my ex-wife's company.

Now, they pay me.

See line 16, paragraph C. Their accountant screwed you.

I mean, me.

I'm glad you brought up Edna Hayes. You know, Mr. Hayes, in my business, there

are oversights.

And there are oversights.

Mr. Hayes, we're not out to get you.

We want to help you.

If you will help us.

Yes, of course, sir. Not your taxes.

Aunt Edna's baked goods.

Claim to have deposited $2 million in quarterly withholding taxes.

Our records indicate otherwise.

My ex-wife owes you $2 million?

More or less.

Help us to find it, and we'll forget about your little oversight.

Mr. Yelverton, that's blackmail.

Mr. Hayes, we may take your car and your house.

We may send you to jail.

We'd never do anything as unsavoury as blackmail.

Edna? It's me, Jessica.

My plane landed about 20 minutes ago.

Oh, Jessica.

Jessica, my goodness, can you ever forgive me?

Oh, I forgot to send the car to the airport. I forgot to... Wait a minute,

you are on your Midwest book promotion tour, aren't you? Oh, yes.

At least I remembered something.

Oh, Jess, it's just been living hell for me. What with the IRS hassle, the loan,

trying to run the plant.

Well, Edna, now be honest. I mean, have I come at a bad time?

You sure have.

But I can't wait to see you.

I'll grab a taxi. Bye.

What with 1,500 employees nationwide from whom we collect taxes and then have

to pay the IRS quarterly. Now.

The remodeling loan comes due, so the problem with the IRS is even more

difficult. Edna, slow down.

I have just landed, and you've got me up in the air again.

Now, start at the beginning.

But, Jess, I wasn't in at the beginning. My first recollection of any problem

with the IRS came about a month ago, when George Arras, my vice president,

stopped me in the parking lot early one morning.

We need to talk.

What is it, George?

Something's wrong either in accounting or payroll or with our auditing firm.

just won't go away what does the irs want the usual money i thought it was

just a misplaced decimal point some kind of snafu that you didn't need to be

bothered about it's an awful lot of paperwork for a misplaced decimal point

that same morning i sat down with gail manning she's head of accounting richard

well stood our in-house attorney and jk davern sales and marketing exec How can

the IRS want $2 million when we've already paid them?

Gail, what is going on in the accounting department?

I don't know, and I've gone over this with the IRS, with our bank in St.

Louis, and with Spencer Prince.

Who? He's with the auditing firm that handles the payroll in St. Louis.

We regularly deposit the withholding taxes of the employees in St. Louis, and

then they are electronically, the money is passed along to the IRS.

Now, at the end of a fiscal year...

The IRS can't find the money we withheld from the first two quarters? Two million

dollars? It takes them several quarters to catch up.

We're now in the fourth quarter, and they want quarters one and two.

You saying the IRS doesn't have two quarters to rub together?

Neither will you, Richard.

Sorry, Edna.

But are you prepared to take on the government in tax court to prove Aunt

Edna doesn't owe Uncle Sam?

Edna?

If this were my company, now is not the time that I would choose to challenge

the Internal Revenue Service.

If you're planning a takeover, thanks for the notice.

I started this firm on 500 bucks and 24-hour work days.

No pointy-headed bureaucrat is gonna make me roll over and play dead.

Then the government may very well take the company away from you.

And the loan on the plant remodeling comes due next month.

What does one thing have to do with the other? Edna, if you have to pay the IRS

twice, there's no money to repay the loan.

Yes, Donnie.

Uh, it's, uh, it's my ex-husband. It's something, uh, supposedly important.

Would you excuse me, huh?

Put him on, okay?

What is it, Nolan? I'm a little busy now.

Edna, love, I hate to bother you, but it's about our divorce settlement.

That's why they call it a settlement, Nolan. Because once and for all, things

are settled. Thanks to me, you have been hunting and fishing for the past three

years.

My quarrel's not with you.

It's with the IRS and the consultancy fee you pay me.

You mean you're in hot water, too?

They're demanding that I pay taxes on $300,000 income.

$300,000? I thought that the deal that we worked out pays you only one.

Granted, your divorce lawyer had me over a barrel, but not in it. Some fellow in

your auditing firm named Spencer Prenz is supposed to help me out, but I keep

missing him.

All right, I'll have Gail Manning deal directly with you, not with some nobody

auditor.

Thanks, Edna.

Kind of romantic, isn't it? You and me brought back together by the Internal

Revenue? It's not exactly romantic, Nolan.

It's more like a shotgun wedding.

About a week later, things came to a head when I confronted the Internal

Revenue Service.

A faceless bureaucrat.

He had a face. Your worst nightmare.

Mrs. Hayes, stonewalling's not going to get you anywhere.

Who's stonewalling? I came from Jonesburg of my own free will. Nobody

comes here from anywhere of their own free will.

Look, I'm asking for $2 million.

In the past, I've been commended by my superiors in Washington for exacting

sums the size of the annual budget of a third-world nation.

Don't push me. I've got a senator friend in Washington who can have you

sharpening pencils in a fourth-world nation.

Look... Mr. Yaleverton, Mrs. Hayes has always paid her fair share.

She employs 1,500 people. She supports the arts. What do you do at Aunt Edna's

Pies, Mr... He happens to be one of my vice presidents.

And chief morale officer? Now, what is that supposed to mean?

Look, Mrs. Hayes, let's just settle this whole thing. Before the lawyers make a

killing, nothing personal, Mr. Wellston.

He's right, Edna. With the loan almost due, a settlement is worth exploring.

Absolutely not. That would be admitting that I'm a thief.

You said it, not me.

I will see you in court, Buster.

And if you or any one of your cronies has pocketed the money, I'll also see

you in jail.

Let's go, gentlemen.

And then what happened?

And then the phone rang.

It was you at the airport.

Edna, you and I have known one another since we were in college together.

Now, I know that you did not form this mini-empire by keeping two sets of

books. I'll fly in from wherever, and when your case comes up, I will appear

as your character witness.

That's very kind of you, but I'm afraid, Jessica, it's going to take more than

kind words to get me out of this mess.

And this is a picture of me with a congressman I tried to help re-elect.

My campaign contributions helped buy him a houseboat off the coast of Costa Rica.

And he never even sends me a Christmas card.

Excuse me, Edna. Mrs. Fletcher, I just thought you'd like to know Spencer

Prince, the auditor from St. Louis, was in this morning.

J.K. and I had a good session with him. Later today, he visits the IRS with

payroll records.

Better him than me.

Thanks a lot, Richard.

Sure.

Nolan! Good to see you. Richard.

Nolan!

What an unexpected... Treat?

Hard if it's one's ex, but hello, Edna.

Jessica, it's been too long. Nolan, I'm truly sorry that things didn't work out

for you two.

Thanks. Edna, I need to talk to you.

Alone, if you don't mind. No, no, if this is about our tax problems, Jessica

knows all about it.

The IRS is really turning up the heat on me.

Let me guess.

They want to cut a deal.

You divulge pillow talk and creative bookkeeping at the highest level, and in

return, you're a free man. Well, you know I'm no hero, but let's help each

other. Whatever you can give them. Our old returns, canceled checks, and if

there's anything that I can turn over to you, call me day or night. I shall,

Nolan.

Do you have my car phone number?

Uh, my secretary has it.

Jessica, stay well.

What can I say, Jessica?

It just didn't work out.

I imagine it was difficult for him being Mr. Edna Hayes. No, the problem was he

enjoyed being Mr. Edna Hayes.

Jessica, we usually conclude our little tour of the bakery in the freezing room

with some dessert.

Oh, please, no more pastries. Where is he? George, did you see Spencer Prince?

No, sorry.

There he is. Spencer!

You forgot the W-4 forms.

Wait up.

I'll walk you to your car.

Oh, George, this message for Edna was laying on my desk when I came back from

lunch. Is she around?

Oh, here I am, Gail.

Can I help you? A message.

Oh, thanks.

What does he want now?

The IRS?

No, it's Nolan. But he's running them a close second for headache of the week.

You'll excuse us.

Thanks, George.

Jessica.

I'm afraid I won't be able to take you to the concert tonight.

Oh, don't worry about that, Edna. I'll be perfectly fine. But I feel awful

because I know how much you love Sibelius. And I specifically asked them

to play Finlandia. You mean they take requests?

Well, we do underwrite the season, you know. We gotta keep the string section

in rosin.

Pardon me. I just got the cupcake survey.

J.K., could I ask you a big favor?

Do you think you could take Jessica to the concert tonight?

Be happy to.

You know, two of our bakers are in the woodwind section.

They even read music.

He's dead.

No wallet on him.

Car is registered to an Edna Hayes.

Dormitory rules absolutely for bad cooking.

So when we baked brownies in our room, as I hid him under the bed, my mattress

sagged and stuck to the fudge topping.

And from this humble culinary beginning, an empire was born.

Well, some of us have bosses to face early tomorrow morning.

Well, thanks again for joining me at the concert, J.K.

It's after 11.

That's amazing.

Mrs. Hayes?

Yes? According to the registration, Jaguar license plate MCR6475 is

registered to you.

Is that right?

Well, we have a company car that's leased, you might say, to my ex-husband.

Why? There's been an accident, ma'am, and the driver has no identification.

Could you come with us, please?

Is it Nolan?

We don't know, ma'am.

Is he hurt?

Would you please come with us, ma'am?

Yes, that's Nolan.

Lieutenant, could you tell me what happened?

No secret. The railroad tracks are a bad area.

Your husband was driving alone, got a flat, took out a jack to change it. Some

thug, thief, or wino shot him and took his wallet.

That's the way she looks.

Of all the times Nolan thought he could change a tire, in that neck of the

woods. Was the gunfire overheard by anyone, you know, a witness?

Nobody lives out there. We couldn't find a soul.

Edna... You said of all times, Nolan thought he could change a tire.

You knew Nolan. He couldn't open a can, let alone change a flat.

Which makes me think, if he couldn't change a flat, why was the jack out?

Isn't that what you said, Lieutenant?

There was no pay phone or gas station around. Mr. Hayes had to give it a try,

wouldn't you say?

Actually, no, I certainly wouldn't say.

Um, Edna, after lunch, Nolan said that you could reach him on his car phone. So

why didn't he stay safely in his car and call the gas station or the auto club?

You also said that nobody lived out there.

So what was he doing driving out there in the first place?

We plan to run ballistics and fingerprint tests as a matter of course.

A lot of questions will be answered then. Mrs. Hayes, how long you and the

deceased been divorced?

Three years.

Was the parting friendly?

Lieutenant, these questions hardly come under the heading of ballistics or

fingerprint tests. It's all right, J.K.

Lieutenant, we each got what we wanted out of the settlement.

Nolan got the farm, a car, and an annual consultant's fee.

And what did you get?

Well, I got rid of Nolan.

Right, Doc, I got it.

Is that right?

It wasn't a nail after all. The tire was slashed?

Look, if you're one of them pain-in-the-tail St. Louis reporters, I

still don't have a thing on the Hayes murder.

Okay?

I'm Field Rector Yelverton, Internal Revenue Service.

I'll call you back.

Mr. Yelverton, sir, I thought my IRS problem was over. I mean, they said they

wouldn't repossess my car.

Relax, Lieutenant. I'm here about Nolan Hayes' murder.

Oh, the murder. Great.

Coffee?

Decaf? Tea?

I think we still have a Danish.

No. No, thank you.

You know, Lieutenant, the IRS has lost a key witness in its tax case against Aunt

Edna's pies.

You may not be aware, Mrs. Hayes owes us $2 million.

$2 million?

Well, I guess repossessing her car is out.

You catch on.

You say Hayes was a witness?

Are you familiar with the term Judas Goat?

Sure. And Mrs. Hayes was going to be the lamb chops.

I'd like to be the first to hear of any developments.

Well, you know, actually, sir, the IRS has no jurisdiction in Hayes' murder.

Are you still driving that 84 Buick?

I'll be in touch.

Jessica, thanks so much for helping with Nolan's funeral arrangements. He had no

one, you know. I know.

Mrs. Hayes, I'd like to have a word with you. Kind of goes along with a couple of

things you mentioned, Mrs. Fletcher, if you'd like to join us. Right this way.

Did you know your ex was going to testify against you in tax court?

Well, I'm not surprised, Lieutenant.

But you're wasting your time if you think that I had a motive to kill him.

Lieutenant, it's only an IRS claim that Mrs. Hayes owes any money.

Sounds to me like you don't own a car.

Mrs. Hayes, my department found blood on the Jaguar's rear seat.

And the flat tire got that way because of a six-inch knife slash.

What are you saying, Lieutenant?

That Nolan was killed elsewhere?

About nine o'clock and driven to the tracks.

And what about the ballistic tests that you were going to run?

Wedding word on them now.

Naturally, I'm questioning everyone who knew him, like their whereabouts last

night. Miss Manning, Mr. Harris, and Wellstood were at home, they say.

J.K. Davern was at a concert with you, Mrs. Fletcher, I believe.

That's right.

And what about you, Mrs. Hayes? Where were you last night around 9?

I was home alone.

That so? Yeah, I got home around 7.30.

I was waiting for Nolan. He'd called the office that afternoon and said he would

be coming by at 9.

He obviously didn't. Then Jessica and J.K. returned about 10.30.

By yourself from 7.30 to 10.30, that about it?

Mm-hmm. Can anybody vouch for you, Edna?

I mean, a phone call you got or somebody who wanted to borrow a cup of something?

Yes. Actually, the doorbell rang about 9.

I don't know where he was from, but it was some delivery man.

He had the wrong house and he left.

I see.

A delivery man you don't know from a place you don't know didn't drop

anything off at around 9.

Look, Lieutenant, if I thought I needed an alibi, I would have invited him in.

Ms. Hayes, there may be a few more questions, so please... Look,

Lieutenant, I have a company to run. You know exactly where you can find me.

I'll be in touch.

Jessica, let me get you a car to take you to St. Louis.

I don't want you to have to postpone your radio interviews on my account.

Edna, you have got very important business to attend to.

Yeah, stalling the loan company will just bore you to death.

No, I mean Nolan's death and your alibi, or lack of it.

You don't really think that I need an alibi.

Edna, it's not important what I think. Lieutenant Phillips is a man with a

mission. It's his job.

Now, this delivery man, was there a sign on the side of the van?

Was he wearing a uniform from some store?

I don't know.

The doorbell rang.

I was expecting Nolan, but I live alone, and you never know.

So I said, who is it? And a voice said, delivery for 485 North Plainview.

Well, I realized he had the wrong address, so I said, this is 485 South

Plainview, and I heard him walk away.

i knew he was lost so i opened the door and he was he was in the shadows you

know by the curb i pointed out the right way he thanked me and left but i i could

never describe him well it's a start it is

well yes um i did get a delivery the night before last a pizza

and where did the pizza come from sons of sicily we deliver It was cold enough

to have come from Palermo.

Thanks very much.

Come on, Ronnie, will you have us all up here? I got calzones on the thing. Come

on.

So, this is Sally.

What can I do for you?

Yes, good evening. My name is Jessica Fletcher.

Yes, ma'am. What's your address?

Well... Actually, I'm calling about a delivery man of yours. Now, two nights

ago, he went to 485 North Plainview.

Oh, great. If this is another complaint about Benny getting lost, I fired the

guy this morning.

Oh, that's too bad.

So, what kind of pizza do you want? Well, actually, I want Benny's last name

and a phone number, if you have one.

Lady, come on. What do I sound like, a dating service? Oh,

well...

Looks as if Benny's lost again.

Miss Fletcher? Miss Hayes?

You certainly put in a full day, Lieutenant.

There's tax dollars at work.

Miss Hayes, do you happen to own a gun?

Guns frighten me. I wouldn't have one in the house.

Our ballistics report just came through. A .38 caliber killed your ex-husband.

I see.

Mrs. Hayes, we may not be big city police like up in St. Louis, but we know

how to read state records.

A 38 is registered in your name.

Bought about three years ago?

Uh, Hayes is a very common name. We read your records.

Lieutenant, would you mind if I had a word alone with Mrs. Hayes?

Why not?

Edna, this isn't the doormother asking why we're late for curfew. This is the

police. Well, surely.

You don't think that I killed? No. Well, of course not. And if you tell me that

you don't own a gun, I will believe that, too.

Jessica, I cooperated with the IRS, and where did it get me?

I could get a search warrant.

Won't be necessary.

After the divorce, living alone in this big house, I thought I should have it.

I never fired it.

Lieutenant, I'm sorry I lied to you. I haven't been myself lately.

Mrs. Hayes, one bullet has been fired pretty recently, too.

Are you quite sure?

Don't take an expert, ma'am. Give a whiff.

I don't understand it, Lieutenant. I never fired that gun.

I have to read you your rights, Mrs. Hayes.

Got a little three-by-five card someplace with the exact words. Oh,

Lieutenant, this is ridiculous. You can't charge Mrs. Hayes with murder.

Kind of funny, Mrs. Fletcher. Before I ran into you, I was content calling it

flat tire and robbery.

Here you go. Fresh brewed just a few minutes ago.

And I brought you some extra butter for that Danish.

Even from behind bars, Mrs. Hayes has to pay her taxes.

Selling pies from stir won't be easy.

She won't have to lift a finger. We'll do it for her.

Has a nice ring.

Uncle Sam's baked goods.

Excuse me, I'd like to visit Mrs. Hayes.

Would you fill this out for me, please?

Yes.

Mrs.

Fletcher. Yes.

I've been looking forward to meeting you. I've read your stuff.

Oh? Gerald Yelverton, IRS field director.

You've got a hell of an imagination if my opinion counts.

Well, thank you. Which one of my books have you read?

Your books?

I'm talking about your tax return.

Nothing personal. Mrs. Hayes has to pay what she owes.

If she owes it.

You know, it's occurred to me that if you're planning to write this trip off

as a business expense, the big stores and the television stations are in

Kansas City and St.

Louis and not around here.

Mr. Yelverton.

I was under the impression that what I did or didn't write off was my business.

Common misconception.

Excuse me, Lieutenant.

Ah, Mrs. Fletcher.

Still friends, I hope?

Lieutenant, this morning I spoke to Edna's attorney who told me that Edna's

gun had been wiped clean of fingerprints.

So she wiped them off.

Isn't that what you would do after you'd shot someone? Well, frankly, I would

have thrown the gun away, not left it by my bed for the police to find.

But if I had been foolish enough to keep it, what difference would it make if my

fingerprints were on my gun?

Look, prints or no prints, it was her gun, and I'm proceeding accordingly.

Lieutenant, that pizza being delivered, is that from Sons of Sicily?

No, we usually call Mr. Pizazz.

And besides those two, about how many other pizza places are there in

Jonesburg? I don't know. Two or three more.

You hungry?

Yes, for an alibi.

Would you by any chance have a telephone directory I could look at?

Right here.

What are you up to, Mrs. Fletcher?

I decided that I would like to order some pizza.

If I can find the right man to deliver it.

Aha, here's Alberto's Pizza Emporium. We deliver.

We'll start there.

And if we're lucky, we'll find Benny working for the competition.

Thanks to Mrs. Fletcher, we found Benny delivering for the competition.

Check off this box. We'll return your purse and things.

I was just doing my job, Miss Hayes. You understand.

Your job.

His job, Edna.

Now, the way it looks, a damn clever killer saw to it that you were left to

twist slowly in the wind without an alibi. And I helped him, making Jessica

go to the concert with J.K. Davern.

Gail? Yes, Mrs. Fletcher. The other day, you gave Edna a message that Nolan had

called, right?

How did he sound?

Sound? Well, I mean, was he nervous, upset?

Oh, I didn't actually speak with Nolan. There was a message on my desk when I

got back from lunch.

Well, who put it there? Your secretary?

No, I don't think so. Patty had a dentist appointment that day. She left

early. She took a long lunch.

So anybody could have put it on your desk.

Possibly as part of an attempt to frame Edna for murder.

You know who it could have been? It could have been Spencer Prince.

He's the auditor from St. Louis.

He doesn't come here very often, but when he does, he usually works through

lunch when no one's around.

Maybe he took the call.

I'm sure that's what happened, Gail. I told Spencer to use your desk during

lunch because he had to go over some payroll records.

You know, an outside auditor like Spencer has to grab a telephone and desk

wherever he can. And where is this Spencer Prince now?

Well, he's probably on his way back to St. Louis. He was here a minute ago.

You know, this is almost funny if Edna's predicament wasn't so serious.

What is?

Well, this mysterious Mr. Prince.

I mean, the other day he was here during lunch. Hardly anybody saw him. Now he's

on his way back to St. Louis.

That's where his home office is.

Well, I admit I did catch a glimpse of him. But the fact is that everybody sees

Spencer Prince except me.

Well, a little birdie didn't bring these checks from St. Louis.

Then you did see him.

Well, let me think.

No. He gave the checks to me.

Mrs. Fletcher, the police and the IRS have both talked to Spencer in their

offices.

And if his car is still here, you can talk to him, too.

Spencer!

Spencer!

There he is.

There he goes.

Gail, get Spencer's home number and address in St. Louis for Jessica, will

you? Yes, sir.

Jake, hey, you're gonna be late for that sales meeting. Yes.

This is really brutal, Mrs. Fletcher. If we pay the loan, we can't pay the IRS.

If we pay the IRS again, we can't repay the loan.

Computers, electronic banking, auditors.

It was a lot simpler when people actually dealt with money.

These days, nobody knows a damn thing.

Maybe there is somebody, somebody who gets paid to know everything.

Mrs. Fletcher, this is indeed a pleasure.

I must say, in my 20 years with the service, you may be the first person

who's ever dropped in on me voluntarily.

Well, thank you, Mr. Yelverton. I must confess I'm still a little

uncomfortable.

Every taxpayer is, even relatively honest ones like yourself.

Please, sit down and unburden yourself of those two martini lunches you used to

call business.

I'm sure we can straighten everything out.

I didn't come here about my tax returns, Mr. Yelverton.

Oh, really?

I'm trying to track down a man named Spencer Prince.

Now, everybody sees and talks to him but me, and I need your help.

Help? My help?

Goodness, nobody ever asks for my help.

Well, I was told that Spencer Prince met with you.

Oh, yes, I summoned him with the books from Aunt Edna's baked goods.

Naturally, he complied. They all comply.

And what was he like?

Like all of them, nervous, sweaty, afraid to look me in the eye, but

harmless, really. A quiet fellow with glasses given to bow ties.

Say, you don't think that little cog in the wheel actually pulled off a $2

million tax swindle and a murder, do you?

Mr. Yelverton, far be it for me to ask you to snoop, but you want $2 million,

and the police want a dangerous killer.

And when you think about it... Isn't that the way that the IRS helped the

police finally nail Al Capone?

Scarface Al Capone.

And those were the days.

Prints.

Let's see what we've got.

This isn't snooping exactly. This is T-Men in action.

Ha! Social security number.

Yes, yes, ma'am. These are the years he was filing his taxes when he was

resident in Illinois.

85, 86, up to 87.

I don't like this.

I don't like this at all.

He paid us every cent he owed us.

We've been filed early each year.

Ah, here's where he transferred a year ago to the auditing firm in St. Louis.

Oops, my mistake.

Wait a minute.

I've lost him.

In St. Louis?

Hold on.

Spencer Prince.

It's not my mistake. We don't make mistakes.

He's not lost.

You found him? No, ma'am. You found him for us.

He didn't file this year.

Of course he hasn't, but someone has just embezzled two million dollars.

Well, for once, I tend to agree with you.

Excellent, Mrs.

Fletcher. Excellent.

I'm sure Spencer Prince would be a lot easier to put behind bars than Al

Capone. Well, I wouldn't count on that, Mr. Yelverton.

First, you're going to have to find him.

Of course, Roy, I'm overextended.

But you know what this business is worth.

All I'm asking for is a short-term... Yes, Roy.

Damn it, there are jobs at stake here. I'm not going to throw all these people

out of work.

Fine, you just have your meeting with the loan committee and call me when they

turn me down.

Even Roy, huh?

That parsimonious jerk. I don't know how the bank stays afloat with him in

charge.

Where's Jessica?

I thought you and she were going over the books.

She went to St. Louis with that police lieutenant to try to track down Spencer

Prins. She's got it in her head that he's a figment of someone's imagination.

I gotta tell you, J.K., I'm beginning to agree with her.

He isn't here, mister.

What else is new?

Certainly looks as if he had quite a party last night.

Poker. Bunch of slobs.

Chips all over the floor, rings on the table.

Oh, well, that's what I get paid to do.

When's the last time you saw him? See him?

I never see him.

Never? Oh, yeah, a few months ago when he hired me, but since then, never.

He's always working whenever I'm here. He leaves me an envelope with cash in it

on that table over there. I see.

And this Mr. Prince.

What does he look like? Look like? I don't know. He's kind of medium-sized,

medium-built, glasses, mustache, and... Oh, yeah, he wore a bow tie.

Mrs. Fletcher?

Looks like Prince is our man after all. Take a look. Nolan Hayes' wallet, credit

cards, driver's license.

But this makes no sense, Lieutenant.

If you embezzle $2 million, why would you steal a wallet but keep it laying

around? It wasn't laying around. It was hidden.

I'm putting out an APB on Spencer Prins. White mail, glasses, mustache, bow tie.

I'll also have the local police stake out both here and the airport.

If it's not too late.

This is like cramming for finals.

Yeah, but there's no way of making it up in summer school if we don't find the

buried money by tomorrow morning.

Oh, it must be a power failure.

But this light is on.

Don't move, ladies.

Put your hands up.

And step back.

The ghost returns.

Spencer Prince, I presume?

That's right.

I'll just relieve you of this slightly incriminating volume and be on my way.

You did steal the money, didn't you? Oh, yes.

And I was forced to kill your ex-husband, Mrs. Hayes. He found out

what I was doing. A foolish and greedy man.

Now don't force me to use this again.

Step into the closet.

He's gone.

I found 911.

Please, get a hold of Lieutenant Phillips right away and have him come to

Aunt Edna's factory.

Tell him that we have found Spencer Prince and that he is armed.

Be careful.

Come on, Jessica.

Edna, the man has a gun.

That was a shot!

Richard, what happened?

I came by to help you go through the books.

I saw Spencer running toward me.

He had a gun.

He told me to freeze as he was going by me to get in his car.

I don't know where I found the courage. I tackled him.

We fought for his gun.

It went off.

I've never even held a gun.

In my life.

Much less killed a man.

That's odd.

Look at his hair.

Looks like a wig.

It's J.K. Davin.

He was Spencer Prince. He killed Nolan.

This is unbelievable.

He had me completely fooled.

But when you think about it, it...

It makes perfect sense.

J.K. designed our computer marketing, our billing, our payroll systems.

He could easily bury two million dollars.

Edna.

The gun.

Please pick it up.

Be careful with that, Edna. I want you to cover Richard.

Cover me?

That's ridiculous.

What? Do it. Now, Edna. Do it now. If you say so.

Be absurd.

I shot Prince, but I... I mean J.K., but it was self-defense.

Obviously. No, Richard. What is obvious has finally got through to me.

Unless my eyes are totally gone.

The gun you said that you picked up from J.K. is not the same gun that was

pointed at us inside.

Of course it is.

It was less than a minute from the time we heard the shot until we got here.

Thirty seconds isn't much time to hide a gun.

I know guns, especially when one's pointed at me, and I'm staring down its

barrel.

There are two guns there well stood. How do you explain that?

I don't know.

What must have happened is Spencer Prince, sorry, J.K., left the bakery,

pocketed his gun, and then was shot by Richard Pointblank.

Richard hid J.K.'s gun in the waste barrel.

and tried to make us believe the gun he brought was the one that J.K. threatened

us with. Total nonsense.

I don't deny shooting Spencer Prince, but I was as surprised as anyone to

learn he was really J.K. Davern. No.

I believe that you and J.K.

trotted out the fictitious Spencer Prince one more time tonight for my

benefit. Jessica was the only one who was curious enough to want a face-to

-face encounter with him. It seemed odd.

that the outside auditor's appearances at Edna's company were limited and

always verified by you, Richard, or by J.K.

In other words, it took two men to create the third employee, an elusive

man with an apartment, a maid, a car, and a passion for bow ties.

My first glimpse of Spencer Prince was from quite a distance. When you called

to him that he forgot the W-4 forms, then offered to walk him to his car...

A couple of days later, when my curiosity about Spencer Prince grew,

this time it was you, Richard, who dressed up as Spencer.

J.K. tried to stop Spencer before he drove back to St. Louis. But as usual,

we were all a few steps behind.

And as usual, either you or your partner were vouching for Spencer's whereabouts.

The catch was that no one ever saw all three of you together.

There's something wrong, Jessica.

J.K.

escorted you to the concert.

the night that Nolan was killed. So he couldn't have killed Nolan, and yet he

confessed the murder to us that night in my office.

Yes, but when he confessed, he did not know that he was going to be double

-crossed. Lieutenant, you can't take any of this seriously.

That's where you're wrong, sir. I buy it, and I think the D.A. will, too.

Would you like to call your lawyer now?

Or maybe you'd like to tell us how it happened.

Might go easier on you.

Only JK and I knew the real Spencer Prince, who was about to transfer from

Chicago to St. Louis one year ago.

A week before he was due to arrive, he died of a heart attack.

That's when JK and I hatched the scheme to steal the tax deposits by keeping

Spencer alive.

When the fiscal year was up, Spencer would disappear without a trace.

taking with him all the blame and $2 million.

Okay, but why did you have to kill Nolan Hayes? J.K. got greedy.

He forged a $200,000 payroll check to Nolan and cashed it to himself.

He figured it would take the IRS forever to catch up with the tax problems that

would cause Nolan.

It didn't.

Nolan was desperate for answers.

So after getting the runaround from Spencer Prince by phone, he came to our

office to see Spencer in person.

One of the secretaries must have told him Prince just left.

Nolan tried to catch up to him.

J.K. was taking his turn at Spencer.

As he was getting into the rental car to pretend to drive back to St. Louis, his

wig was accidentally knocked loose.

And as he replaced it, he didn't see Nolan staring in at him, observing the

metamorphosis. Nolan turned and ran back inside.

That's when he made his fatal mistake.

He came directly to me and said,

No wonder Edna was having problems, never mind two sets of books.

Her company had two sets of employees.

J.K. and I had to act quickly. Of course. And since Nolan was making waves

for Edna, why not frame her for the murder?

We set up the bogus telephone message, leaving Edna without an alibi.

I went to her house, entered through a rear window, and took the gun we all

knew she kept in her bed table drawer.

I drove out to Nolan's farm. I called in to him. He came out.

Surprised to see me.

I shot him.

Put his body in the car.

Drove to the tracks and took out the jack and made it all look like a flat

tire and robbery.

I returned the gun to your house while you were with the police late that

night. Once Mrs. Fletcher got you off the hot seat and became suspicious of

Spencer Prince, we shifted the blame for embezzlement and murder

to the perfect fall guy.

The man who didn't exist.

We came close.

The IRS has billions.

Aetna has millions.

JK and me, we just wanted a piece of the pie.