Original subtitles

Those are my terms, damn it.

I receive half the proceeds in your little venture.

Or you pay the consequences.

And I'm sure you realize they'd be very severe.

I can't really see that you bloody well have much choice.

Attention, Joshua people today participants.

All those involved in the battle reenactment, please report to the large

tent in costume.

Hi, Mrs. Fletcher. Oh, good morning, Scott.

Ready for the big production? Yeah, right. They're all inside.

This is a documentary, Rick, not a rock

video. Look at this room. It cries for available light. Amelia, this is really

getting old.

Shoot it my way or I'll find somebody that will, all right?

Excuse me, Mr. Hawks, but wouldn't you rather have Joshua's saber here in

front? Mrs. Peabody, Mrs. Peabody, I placed this here because that's where I

want it for the shot.

Louise,

Louise, your mother is driving me around the bend.

I can't believe it. It's past ten. We haven't shot a frame.

Don't look at me. I've been ready since seven.

Robert, when are you going to start behaving like a producer?

Come on, babe.

The suits in Boston think Hawks is some kind of god.

I'm getting rid of him. It's not that easy. Yeah?

Well, I can think of a few ways.

No, no, no. You don't need any makeup. You're fine. You're fine. And Edith,

again, suggesting that Mrs. Fletcher do the narration was inspired.

I hope you haven't been too busy to learn your lines.

No problem.

I like the way you write, by the way, very much. Oh, thank you.

I did notice a couple of details, though, that weren't quite accurate, so

I took the liberty of correcting them, with your approval, of course. Okay,

okay, you're right here, Mrs. Fletcher. All right? Oh, and thank you. No matter

how thoroughly you research these things, you always seem to miss

something. Okay, folks, let's see if we can make this happen, all right? Amelia?

Still ready.

Okay, here we go. Roll sound.

Quiet, please.

Quiet. Speed.

Camera rolling.

Scene four, take one, mark.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Before the American Revolution, Joshua Peabody was known as Maine's finest

clockmaker. But when he read of the music boxes the Swiss were beginning to

fashion, he became fascinated with the design of such instruments.

Ultimately, he constructed some of the finest, most innovative music boxes of

the... Cut!

Cut!

I'm sorry, did I goof?

No, no, no, you were fine. It just hit me that we've got to end this sequence

with you turning this thing on. Give us a dynamite transition sequence here. I

see. Mr.

Hawks, I don't think it's ever worked. At least, not in my lifetime.

Forget the damn music box, okay? We can't afford to lose the time.

Look, if it's anyone who can get this thing to work, it'll be Tom Godfrey. I'd

be glad to take it to him during our lunch break.

Even better.

All right, we'll shoot you pretending to turn it on, and then we'll dub the music

in later. All right, here we go. All right.

I'll take a shot at this, sure.

Might help me get into character. I'm playing a major in our reenactment.

You know, this might be the start of a whole new career.

I just hope it gives some kind of boost to the tourist trade.

Muggy summer we've had here. Everybody in town's heard it.

Now, this is not the one I wore last year. That one fit me just fine. Dr.

Haslett, it is the same uniform, I swear.

Well, then you must have done something to the darn thing.

Nancy, didn't you mention to me that some of those costumes got soaked when

the roof leaked last winter?

Well, you know, as a matter of fact, and I think that this was one of them.

You think?

Isn't it obvious?

Thank you, Jessica.

Jessica, come here.

I was going to call you and let you know that your chest of drawers finally

arrived from Vermont.

You know, I'd almost given up.

Oh, it's lovely, Nancy.

But it seems to me that these drawer pulls are mismatched.

Oh, no.

I can't imagine how I missed that. You know, I probably looked at this piece

for 20 minutes.

I'm so sorry. I'm going to call Burlington right now, and I'm going to

order the replacements. No problem.

Jessica, I think I found the problem.

This was jamming the mechanism.

It's dated September 12th, 1780.

To Major Joshua Peabody, your cowardly request to surrender Cabot Cove is

categorically refused.

You are to stand and fight or face court-martial as a traitor.

I am investigating reports that you have accepted payments from the enemy.

It's signed, George Washington.

Traitor?

Joshua Peabody? Another hero shot down in flames.

Well, the way the world's going, it doesn't surprise me.

But everybody knows that Joshua Peabody was killed by the Redcoats' final volley

just before the British turned and ran. He won the Battle of Tappet Cove.

Can't you see? It's an obvious hoax. Jessica, we should destroy that letter.

Edie, if the letter is a hoax, it's evidence.

And if it's genuine... Jessica's right, Mom.

My God, you're as bad as those people you work for. Ready to throw away

something precious just for its exploitation value.

Jess, we best get started. Blakely said he'd see us at one shop.

Seth, talk some sense into Jessica and let me burn that letter.

Edie, you know I can't be parted to something like that.

The only reasonable course is to let Dr. Blakely examine it. The university lab

has all the equipment, and we'll find out once and for all whether or not it's

real. And if it is, we'll just have to accept the fact that the people around

here have been deluding themselves about their icon for over 200 years.

There's no need to get ugly.

You will be paid.

Just like always. Now, will you please send the door pulls today?

All right. C.O.D.

I can't believe you screwed up like that.

We're this close to Chapter 11, you don't seem to give a damn about taking

care of our best customer.

And whose idea was it to sink all of our ready cash into advertising for the

Joshua Peabody Day, which looks like it's going to lay a huge egg. If we're

about to go down.

It is not my fault.

Sorry to trouble you.

Just wondered if you might have any early Dutch-American pieces.

Not at the moment, no.

Is there anything in particular you were looking for?

Nothing special.

Pity.

I have to tell you, Jessica, based solely on observation, this signature is

either George Washington's or a world-class forger.

The text seems plausible, too, Dr. Blakely.

If I remember my history correctly, the fall and winter of 1780 were rough times

for the Continental Army.

I mean, defeats in the South, Benedict Arnold, all that sort of thing?

Well, according to this, a lot of people were having second thoughts at the end

of 1780.

Maybe Joshua Peabody was one of them. I don't even want to think about what this

is going to do to tourism around here. What doesn't make sense is that if he

were paid to lose the battle, how come our side won?

And if Peabody did make a deal with the British, why would he hang on to such an

incriminating document and keep it hidden in a music box?

Well, that bothers me too, Mort.

But, you know, it's possible that Joshua was trying to cover himself.

I mean, maybe he figured that if the British had gone on to win the war, the

letter could give him an excuse for his failure to honor their deal at the

Battle of Cabot Cove.

All right.

On the other hand, if this is a hoax, why would anyone go to all this trouble?

I mean, what could they possibly hope to gain from it?

Well, this is all idle speculation until we get the results of the groundwood and

aqueous tests on the paper and ink.

They should pretty well confirm or deny the accuracy of the documents. I'll be

in touch.

Sheriff's office, Metzger.

No, Ezra, there is no definite word.

Yes.

Yes, we'll make sure that everyone is notified.

Goodbye.

Ezra, down at the Lighthouse Motel. We have got one frightened bunch of

business people on our hands.

I don't believe you, Hawks. A historical scandal drops right into our laps, and

you want to ignore it?

I mean, the attention that this could draw to all of us, the minute we go

public, money in the bank.

I told you, not a word until it's authenticated.

It's my reputation that's on the line here.

Oh, for God's sake, give it up, will you? We're documentary filmmakers. We

deal in actuality, remember?

What the hell's that supposed to mean? It means that whatever we get on film

tells us what kind of movie it wants to be.

So we started out doing a story about the Battle of Cabot Cove. Well, guess

what? That old piece of paper is the story, whether or not we like it and

whether or not it's real. That and a town that might just fall apart, and

we're in the middle of it.

That, my boy, is the stuff of dreams, the stuff that network careers are built

on. Okay, let me remind both of you, I am the director.

All right.

And until that changes, I make the decisions in this outfit.

And right now I've decided to take my assistant to dinner.

I'll see you at the reenactment tomorrow.

Oh, look at the bright side, Scott.

I'm sure he'll give you his leftovers once he's through with her.

Amelia, mind your own damn business.

Oh, cool it, Scott. The lady's only speaking the truth.

Thanks for helping me trying to change Rick's mind.

That's the least of your worries.

I've been going over the production reports.

One day into this thing, and he's already three days behind schedule.

At this rate, he's gonna go, hmm, 60, 70% over budget? I never wanted him. The

brass couldn't wait to hire the Emmy-winning filmmaker.

Hawks won that Emmy eight years ago. This is the first significant gig he's

had in a very long time. Tell me something new.

Well, I don't know what they do at your station, but anyplace else, producer

lets a director run wild, producer's the one who takes the fall.

Yes.

Yes, a letter has been found.

And no, I can't confirm its contents or its authenticity. Not at this time.

Thank you very much.

That was the Booth Bay Harbor Gazette. Oh, dear. Next it'll be the Boston

Papers, then New York, and then the TV networks. I don't know how this news got

out, but it sure is spreading fast.

All the more reason you need to find out who broke into Peabody House and planted

that letter.

I was just about to mention that. We checked all the doors and all the

windows, and I'm afraid there was no sign of any forced entry.

Now, look, does anyone else besides you have a key, a cleaning service, a

bookkeeper? You're talking to the cleaning service and the bookkeeper.

Oh, Mort, you know how Harold loved that old house.

And I promised my husband I would always look after the family name and the

family home.

Edie, we just dropped by your place, and Louise told us that you were here.

You've heard from Professor Plagler? Yes, yes, we have. And the university

lab have confirmed that the ink and the letter...

is chemically identical to ink that was commonly used in revolutionary times.

They've also ascertained that the paper itself was over 200 years old.

No.

No, that can't be true.

And then there are the stains on the letter. They're whale oil.

Which was used back then to lubricate machinery, such as music boxes.

Edie, I'm afraid the bottom line is that there is no way to prove that the letter

isn't real.

So, it looks as if they'll have to rewrite the history of Joshua Peabody

and the Battle of Cabot Cove.

Damn, Jessica.

If you'd let me burn that rotten letter like it deserved, none of this would be

happening. Now everything's ruined.

The Peabody name, the town's reputation, the tourist business.

It's all on your shoulders.

You!

Shoot. Scoot.

All of you. You should be ashamed of yourselves.

All right, folks. Let's break it up here, all right? There's nothing to see.

It's just some kid's prank.

Better yet, why don't we just clear out the area? The battle reenactment's

coming up, all right?

Thank you very much.

Do you want to come down, please? Let me do that for you. Oh, no.

Where have you been? How could you let this happen?

We're pretty shorthanded, idiot.

Everybody's over in Oak Street handling traffic control. Traffic control? That

would be easier to believe if they were more torpid. I've got a picture, Mrs.

Peabody. Come on, let me buy you an ice cold drink. Oh, stop that. Stop that.

Get out.

Cabot Cove, this classic New England fishing village, picturesque, tucked

into our rugged Atlantic coastline, as American as the Fourth of July, has been

shaken to its very cultural and historical roots with the dramatic

discovery that its most famous patriot was actually in league with the British.

Well, now with me now is local antique dealer Nancy Godfrey. Nancy, how is this

affecting your annual celebration of the Battle of Cabot Cove?

Well, as you can see...

Would you excuse me for one minute?

Nancy, just... Rick and I have been talking, and there are some real

problems with the uniforms. I've got our notes right here, and I will talk to

Rick myself.

And I would appreciate it if you would keep out from underfoot.

Jessica, I think you've got to let it go. The document is genuine, and that's

that. I don't know. I mean, supposing Richard Hawks hadn't decided to use the

music box?

Well, then we might have had to wait another 200 years to find it. Mrs.

Fletcher, as Cabot Cove's most prominent living citizen, what do you think about

the appearance of this mysterious letter?

Well, I think that the jury is still out on its authenticity.

Really? Can you elaborate?

Well, I can't right now, I'm afraid. We have a reenactment to wage.

And as you approach the bandstand, I want you to veer to the left.

Excuse me, Mr. Hawks. We've done this for years, and we have never charged the

bandstand. Tom is right.

It's past the oak tree, then down toward the waterfront. That's how the battle

was fought. Exactly. No, that was later, according to my research. What

difference does it make to shoot the damn thing? Get the hell off my set.

Your set?

What about our reenactment? Richard, Seth.

Richard, isn't it true that if you photograph them in close-up, the

direction that they're moving won't be all that critical?

And once they've passed the bandstand and turned, we can go wider. Yeah.

Yeah, that'll work.

Suppose we can live with that.

All right.

Done. Amelia, keep this shot tight, please. Okay, everybody, this is

picture. Let's go.

That's twice you bailed me out. Thank you.

Quiet, please. Rolling.

Feed. Scene 16, take one.

Mark.

And... action!

Scott,

are

you okay?

I didn't know all it took to get your attention was almost getting kicked in

the head by a horse.

I'd arranged it a long time ago.

Jessica, I keep forgetting to give you this release form.

Oh, that's all right.

I understand my mom was pretty hostile last night. I'm sorry.

It's quite understandable.

Louise.

Excuse me. Can we get this done today, please?

Yeah.

All right, let's get everybody back to their start marks. We'll take it again.

Dr. Haslett, officers in the Continental Army didn't carry powderhorns. Let's ask

the property master to get you a sword, all right? Whatever keeps you happy.

Mrs. F., I did like you suggested.

I faxed Interpol and NCIC, you know, for information about world-class forgers.

So far, nothing.

Okay, fellas, please, let's go. Let's get this done.

Rolling.

Speed.

Scene 16, take two, mark.

And settle down, please.

And action.

Believe this, I'm late.

Reloading our muskets. You didn't do that in rehearsal.

That's because you wouldn't let them fire them during rehearsal.

You see, there are 13 steps in reloading a musket. First, you put the hammer

back. Then you handle the cartridge. Put the powder... Wait, wait. We're not

shooting a miniseries here. We don't have time to film 13 different steps.

We do this every year. If you had had the courtesy to... That's it. I can't

work like that. That's a rock.

What are you talking about? We still got three...

this way.

What about the rest of us? That's where you point that uniform, Admiral. Those

buttons could be lethal.

Buttons may not be all that I pop.

You know, I hired you with the understanding you could keep the local

bumpkins in line and assure their cooperation.

I'm sorry.

No sorry doesn't cut it, kiddo.

Hey! That's the man I want to see. We have to go over tomorrow's shot list.

Oh, forget it.

I just spent two very tough hours on the phone to Boston.

I gotta tell you, you had those folks fooled.

Had... What are you saying? What I'm saying, buddy boy, is I gave them a dose

of reality and it finally broke their fever.

You're off the project.

As of now, Amelia Farnham is directing this film.

Amelia?

What's she ever directed?

Oh.

This was her little plot all along, wasn't it? Oh, trust me, Rico, you

torpedoed yourself.

Bob, you can't do this. I can.

And I have.

Coming in.

Come on.

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

Amelia should be back in a few minutes, Mrs. Fletcher.

Thanks a lot. Appreciate it.

She was anxious for me to sync up yesterday's footage so she could see

what needs to be reshuffle.

Well, I think I better wait.

Her phone message said that she had some changes in my narration.

Well, no matter what Louise says, Amelia's got to be a better choice than

Hawks.

Louise took his firing so hard, she quit.

I heard.

Ah, you use double system, don't you?

You know something about film, Mrs. Fletcher?

Well, I only have a reading acquaintance, you understand, but I do a

lot of research.

But this is the first time I've ever seen it firsthand.

That isn't all that complicated, really.

It just means that when we shoot the picture, the sound is recorded on this

quarter-inch tape instead of on the film.

Now we have the sound that's on the tape copied onto this stuff. It's mag track.

It's film that's coated with iron oxide.

So when you run it under a sound head, it reads a sound, just like a tape

recorder.

I find the picture where the clapstick hits, and line them up, and sound and

picture are in sync with each other.

And real soon, I hope.

Hi, Mrs. Fletcher. Hi.

Now that we know that the letter is authentic, I just made a few changes in

your script.

Yes, of course.

Jessica. I hope you don't mind my just dropping by like this, but do you have a

minute? Oh, of course I do. Please, come in.

I had no business blowing up at you the way I did. I wish I could just take back

what I said.

Listen, it's forgotten.

It's hard to adjust.

It seems like all my life I've been keeper of the flame, and now just to

admit it was all a waste?

It may not be, Edith.

Mrs. F?

Edith? Please come in. Any news? Yes, but not what you're looking for, I'm

afraid. I just heard from Dr. Blakely. He said he tried to call you earlier.

He wanted you to know that he's traced that paper.

Seems it was manufactured over 200 years ago in Virginia by Kelso and Sons of

Williamsburg, and George Washington is known to have used that same paper for

other documents.

Not a waste?

It was a rough day in the show business.

That new director, Amelia, what's her name?

Farnham. Whatever.

She's worse than the fellow she's replacing.

She expected me to make that charge at a dead run.

Well, you are playing Major Prentiss, and he did lead the charge.

Yes, but he only had to make it once. I had to do it seven times before Frau

Director Farnham was satisfied.

Well, maybe that's because Major Prentiss had to get it right the first

time. How about some coffee? Get your mind off things.

According to that, the mercury stands comfortably above 80. I think a hot cup

of coffee is the last thing in the world I need. Thank you.

Jessica, when you get back to Earth, would you like to tell us where you've

been?

Thermometer.

Maybe that's one test that Dr.

Blakely overlooked.

Hello? Sheriff, there's been a fire at the movie company's office.

I'm on my way.

That was Andy. There's a fire over at the movie company's office.

It looks like it was arson, Mrs. F. Somebody poured some kind of solvent all

over the floor. Good heavens.

Sheriff, I think you better take a look at this.

It's Amelia Farnham.

calls? It's from the head man at the station in Boston.

I guess he and Amelia were playing phone tag.

The coroner will have to make final determination, of course, but I'd say

that Ms. Farnham hasn't been dead more than an hour or so. Apparently killed by

a blow to the head.

Well, the position of the wound would indicate that the killer was standing

directly in front of her when it happened.

Any thoughts on the murder weapon?

Something heavy. You can bet on that.

I don't know if it means anything, Sheriff, but... The property master told

me he's missing an antique flintlock pistol.

You know, I noticed a tiny cut on the inside of her left thumb.

She could have got that from handling the film.

I get them all the time if I don't wear gloves.

Thank God our picture mag tractor's still here.

Let me get this straight, Scott.

You were over in your motel room, alone.

You heard the fire trucks and came right over here? I can see this place from my

room. And what about Louise and Bob Kendall? Did you see them at the motel?

No, I haven't seen either one of them all evening. How about Hawkes?

Not since yesterday, when Kendall fired him.

Pardon

me,

Mr. Hawke.

I think we should talk.

My name is Paul Taverner. Excuse me.

Mr. Tavener, I don't want to be rude, but I've been up most of the night and I

desperately need some sleep.

I just thought you might be interested to know I finally put together the last

piece of a puzzle that started with Sandsby and Son in London and ultimately

led me here to Cabot Cove.

I don't know what the hell you're talking about.

What I'm talking about is a clever little game wherein you turn a dull, low

-budget film about a small-town celebration

into a historical detective story.

Who bribed Joshua Peabody, and for how much?

What did George Washington know?

When did he know it? You're crazy, pal.

Mr. Hawks, your career is about to blast off like the space shuttle.

And one way or the other, I am going to be aboard. Look, in case you haven't

heard, it's not my documentary anymore. I've been fired.

With your replacement so inconveniently turning up dead, who else can they turn

to to finish the project?

We'll talk more about it later, Mr. Hawks.

Cheerio.

Oh, these drawer pulls are perfect.

Thanks for taking care of it so promptly for me. No problem.

You know, we're not exactly up to our ears and customers, what with this

Joshua Peabody thing. Oh, it's pretty bad.

I mean, I was talking to Bill Mahaffey over at Hill House, and he said that

people were cancelling their reservations.

Yeah, we're considering closing up the shop and moving the whole operation to

Bar Harbor.

Oh, dear.

Come on, Nancy. Now everybody's got better things to do than hang around

here and bellyache.

Sorry about the mix-up, Jess.

Hello?

Oh, Dr. Blakely.

Oh, no, this is a good time.

You did?

Wait, I want to write this down.

Look, what happened to Amelia is a tragedy.

But like it or not, we've got to get back to work.

We've got a lot to do, considering we'll be making a major course correction.

From now on, the focus of this film will be the Washington letter.

Richard, no.

Now, I've done a lot of soul-searching about this, and like it or not, Amelia

was right.

The letter is the story, especially now that it's been authenticated.

But it hasn't been authenticated, Richard.

Excuse me, Jessica.

Look, it's a very, very clever forgery.

and one which might have gone undetected if the forger hadn't overlooked

something that was virtually non-existent in 1780, industrial

pollution of the oceans, mercury, to be precise.

Seth reminded me of it last night when he looked at my kitchen thermometer, and

I asked Dr. Blakely to run one more test on the whale oil.

And unlike the residue in the music box mechanism, he found that the stains on

the paper contained trace amounts of mercury.

that didn't exist in the oceans until quite recently.

Whoever created that letter thought everything through very carefully. The

ink, the paper.

But they couldn't get their hands on whale oil that didn't contain modern

pollutants. But who would do something like that? And why?

Wait a minute.

It was you, wasn't it?

You suddenly get this convenient inspiration to use the music box because

you knew the damn thing was in there.

Well, Mr. Kendall, that could have been planted by almost anybody.

And maybe Mr. Hawks just happened to cause it to be discovered before the

perpetrator actually intended.

Plus, we don't even know if the forgery had anything to do with Miss Farnham's

murder, which is my number one priority right now.

Hello?

Yeah, Andy, what do you got?

I tracked down that English fellow Mrs. Fletcher mentioned.

You want to haul him down to the office?

Louise?

Are you paying attention here? I said scene three, Apple.

Apple, right there. I'm sorry.

Rick, I don't understand.

You're back on the job. We're making the film that you started out to make. What

is it? Nothing, nothing. I'm tired, all right? This whole thing has been a

little stressful.

Last night, you said you were going to call.

I waited up till way after midnight.

Louise, look, I don't want you to get your hopes up.

about us okay that isn't the message i've been getting not in boston

not here i can't deal with this right now all right are you seeing somebody

else damn it i said i don't want to talk about it rick no you got a lot to learn

about this business starting with when to keep your mouth shut

Don't let him bug you, huh?

He's a big jerk.

This just came in from Scotland Yard, Mr. Tavener.

It identifies you as one Jeffrey Caldwell, a, quote, world-class forger,

unquote. Wanted for questioning in the London murder of one of your associates,

a guy named Alexander Sandsby, who Winterbolt describes as your basic

trafficker of phony manuscripts, documents, etc.

I've never killed anyone, Sheriff.

Not Sandsby.

And certainly not your Miss Farnham.

But you did forge the George Washington letter?

Sansby hired me, and it was a job to be proud of, if I may say so.

He had a contact in Virginia where there'd been a find, a quantity of

really old paper.

Well, according to Dr. Blakely, some of it turns up every few years, usually in

attics and old storerooms. So who was Sansby's client? Who hired him?

Sansby was always quite discreet about such things.

But when the old boy turned up murdered, it occurred to me that for once the

stakes might be high enough to warrant further investigation.

Which led you to Caboclo. And lo and behold, here were these people shooting

this movie.

And suddenly, my handiwork is discovered.

When Amelia Farnham appropriated Hawks' job, I assumed she was the mastermind

behind the plot.

So last night I went to the production office to, uh...

Discuss it with her. Wait a second. You're saying you were in the production

office? That's what I'm trying to tell you, Sheriff.

That's when I saw Miss Farnham's killer.

Yes, I was at the production office last night.

I thought I could talk Amelia out of using the George Washington letter.

Did you have any luck?

Unfortunately, no.

I begged her.

I even tried to bribe her.

She said the film would do more for her future than any amount of money I could

come up with.

I was almost beside myself with anger.

I just left.

Excuse me, Sheriff.

I found this under the seat of Mrs. Peabody's car.

Property master says it's the one that was missing and appears to have

bloodstains on it.

I don't understand.

I don't know how that got in my car.

Mort!

I didn't kill her.

I'm sorry, Edith.

I have no other choice. Until we get a forensics report back on that thing, I'm

going to have to hold you on suspicion of murder.

The state police lab has confirmed it, Mrs. F.

They positively ID'd the blood. It was Amelia Farnham's. And the antique pistol

was the murder weapon.

But I don't see anything here about fingerprints.

Well, maybe Edith just wiped it clean or wore one of those gloves the film

editors wear.

Oh, yes, of course, and then left the gun in her car so that Andy could find

it. Jess, you must admit, past few days, Edith Peabody hasn't exactly been your

shining example of a rational person.

I know that, but... What did Scott call it?

The mag track.

You know, last night, when I saw the two reels with sound and picture, they were

both cut to the same length, which means that a lot of it... Must have been

missing.

You want to let us in on it? A lot of what?

Sound, Sheriff.

And I think I know why.

But, Mrs. F., what's this got to do with Amelia Farnham's murder?

Proof that Edith Peabody didn't do it, I hope.

Scott, when did you finish syncing up this footage?

I never got around to this till this morning.

Apparently, Amelia was in the middle of doing it last night when...

Yesterday, when you were explaining to me the double system process, the sound

reel was noticeably longer than the picture reel, wasn't it? Yeah, it had to

be. When that horse got spooked, I was so freaked out, I left my tape recorder

running. And I got dragged off to look for an officer's sword.

All right, here we go.

Seat 16, take one, march.

And... action!

There. Can you stop it right there?

As I recall, there was a two to three minute delay between those two takes.

At 90 feet a minute, we're talking least couple hundred feet of nothing

soundtrack.

And you're quite sure it isn't here?

Yeah, I've looked everywhere.

I never throw any of this stuff away.

Mrs. F?

Scott.

Maybe that isn't such nothing soundtrack after all.

So, Kendall, tell me.

You and Amelia.

That was going on for quite some time, wasn't it?

Yeah. She wasn't exactly Miss Warmth and Charm.

That was business for both of us.

Yeah, except in her case, we're talking career moves, though. People using

people. Don't take it personally. Don't take... Listen, man, the last eight

years have been very long and very cold. No offense, Ricky, but I can understand

why.

Anyway... Amelia and her blind ambition are behind us now.

And since the profile of this project is sinking beneath the horizon, even as we

speak... You.

What? It was you, wasn't it? Me? Me what? Yeah.

Mailing me so she could become director. That wasn't enough.

Those phone messages from the head of the station in Boston. She seized her

chance to exploit that phony letter.

So now she wants to get rid of you, too. So you go in there last night. You pop

her. Oh, you really are wiggy, mister.

Am I?

Oh, I love it. I really do.

I can't say I blame you. Okay, stop.

The sooner you are out of my sight, the better.

So here's what it is. No more Mr. Creative. You go out there, you yell

action and cut like a good fellow, and you get us the hell out of town by

tomorrow night. Deal?

Then we never have to look at each other again.

The law's gonna take care of that one, Bobby.

Listen, have you seen Rick Hawks or Bob Kendall? No.

Matter of fact, they were supposed to be here about a half hour ago to look over

some props for this afternoon's shoot.

Anything urgent, Scott?

You better believe it. My tape recorder?

It's busted.

Which means we can't shoot anything that requires sound.

I won't be able to make the quarter-inch master soundtrack we need to make the

mag. Whoa, uh, quarter-inch master?

Would you explain all that to me? That's tech stuff.

I love it. Tom?

Tom, can't you see that he's got better things to do?

Tom, Nancy's right.

Listen, if you do see him, could you tell him I took it down to Portland to

be repaired?

I should be back late tonight.

Mm-hmm. Sure.

Thanks a lot.

That's the tape you're looking for, Nancy.

The quarter-inch master tape that you didn't realize existed until Scott

mentioned it in your shop today.

Tape? No, I needed a flat box to ship some doilies in. I noticed that there

was some here when I was in the production office. Yes, but you picked

the one that was dated last Thursday, the one you thought contained some very

incriminating recording the night you murdered Amelia Farnham, quite by

accident. You must have heard the version that had been transferred to the

mag track from the master.

Only you didn't know it existed until Scott told you today.

I think you've gone off the deep end, Jessica.

I didn't kill Amelia Farnham, and there is nothing on that tape that connects me

to her. That's true.

There's only the admission that you and Richard Hawks planned the Joshua Peabody

hoax. Trust me, Ricky, there is nothing to worry about. No one, not even Jessica

Fletcher, is going to be able to prove we faked the letter.

What you didn't realize at the time was that Scott had inadvertently left his

tape recorder going.

That everything you and Hawk said was being recorded with his shotgun mic.

All right.

I won't deny it.

I hid the letter in the music box when I was running an inventory with Edith over

at the Joshua Peabody house.

And why?

Tom... my marriage began to fall apart about a year ago i was on a buying trip

in boston and i met richard hawks and one thing led to another and we knew

that if we could sensationalize this joshua peabody film that that it would

revitalize his career and we would have a whole brand new start together just

the two of us with money and you thought you'd pulled it off until Paul Tavener

showed up at Cabot Cove. Yeah, and he made the connection between the forgery

and the film. Only he assumed that Richard had been the sole instigator,

and that it was Richard who had contracted with Sansby in London and

killed him.

Well, he was mistaken.

It was you, Nancy.

Oh, no.

Richard and I may have tried to pull off a scam, but I did not kill anyone.

But you were in London on May the 6th, when Sansby was murdered.

And his warehouse was torched. Wrong!

I was in Vermont on a buying trip. That's why I picked out that chest of

drawers for you.

I'm afraid not, Nancy.

You made the mistake of leaving the dealer's tag on the chest.

A tag with some numbers on it, and there was something very familiar about it.

And then I realized it was the country code for Great Britain.

It's 4-4.

And the code for his area of London is 7-1. The rest of it is the phone number

of the Royal Berkshire Hotel.

Well, you were staying on the date Sandsby was murdered. The antique dealer

in Vermont has confirmed that he called you at that number in London to tell you

that he'd found the chest you'd asked him to look for on my behalf, and you

bought it unseen.

We've got your phone and credit card records, and the hotel has you listed as

a guest two months earlier. Which is when you hired Alexander Sandsby to

forge the letter.

So I pulled off a prank, period.

That doesn't prove anything.

Not true.

That cut on your right wrist. I believe that forensics will be able to prove

that it was caused by the edges of that silver bracelet that you always wore

until after the murder.

For God's sake, Mace, why didn't you tell me this Fletcher woman was your

neighbor? We have heard about her. She scares me. She's not as gullible as the

rest of these youngsters.

Trust me, Ricky, there is nothing to worry about. No one, not even Jessica

Fletcher, is going to be able to prove we faked the letter.

I want that.

Now. What, are you kidding? This track will make the whole picture.

A small-town junk dealer and a washed-up director and a document fraud.

I noticed that Amelia also had a small, fresh cut on the inside of her left

thumb. In self-defense, she must have grabbed your wrist, cutting both of

them. In desperation, you reached for the only weapon at hand, the antique

pistol, and brought it down on her head, killing her instantly.

You took the incriminating mag track, then you poured the film cleaning

solvent into the film bin, hoping that the fire would destroy all evidence of

murder. Richard didn't know about the killings.

He did his thing, and I did mine.

Oh, Jessica!

Well, it looks as if Joshua Peabody's reputation is good for another 200

years. That's more than I can say for my digestion. I can't wait to get out of

this monkey suit.

Oh, I wouldn't hurry, Doc. You're a walking, talking photo op for all the

tourists that are pouring into town. Sure.

And, I mean, there's next year's celebration to consider.

I mean, once you take that off, you might not be able to get back into it

again. Cute.

Very cute.