All language subtitles for Murder, She Wrote S03E11 Night of the Headless Horseman.DVDRip.NonHI.en

I got a headless body and a
bloody saber. And the wrong suspect.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

And a pleasure to
meet you, Mrs. Beecher.

I want Nate Findley
out of this school.

Stay away from Edwin's daughter.
Satisfy your needs elsewhere.

Is that an order or an offer?

Oh, dear. It's Daddy! You have
to go. No, no. I won't. I won't.

Maybe you don't hear so good. You got
questions, missus, you ask somebody else.

Her eyes glistened
with the promise of

a thousand yesterdays
she had never known,

and then she came to me...

and unleashed the promised passions
of a thousand tomorrows yet to come.

Oh, Dorian. You
wrote that for me?

For you alone, Sarah.

There is you now,
Dorian. Only you.

Really? What about Nate Findley?

He's a boor and a bully, and I will
have nothing further to do with him.

How could you ask? Well, he
is rather possessive and jealous.

Sarah? Oh, dear. It's
Daddy! You have to go.

No, no. I won't. I won't. I won't hide from
him anymore. I want to tell him about us.

Oh, darling, you
must leave that to me.

Daddy is very mulish,

but when he finds out
what kind of person you

really are, what sort of
family you come from...

Oh, yes, family. You know
how Daddy is about ancestry.

But when your mother arrives...

She is still coming,
isn't she? Oh, yes. Yes,

of course. Tomorrow.
On the morning train.

Sarah!

Damn you, Nate Findley!

Jessica! Oh, I was terrified
you wouldn't be here.

Oh, Dorian, you must be joking.

I promised I'd be
here, and here I am.

Well, people have a way of letting me
down. Well, don't include me in that group.

My goodness, look at you. You've
lost a lot of weight. Cafeteria food.

Thousands for bridles and bits
but not one penny for a decent steak.

Well, you certainly picked a very
exclusive school. Wenton Academy.

Why didn't you tell me? I had no
idea that you were working for a living.

Well, it happened all of a sudden. The
poetry teacher died over the summer.

A beautiful young thing, I understand.
The daughter of our stable master.

She drowned in
the Cloverton River.

Oh, how awful. Was it
a swimming accident?

Driving. And there's talk she
wasn't the only one in the car.

- There may have been a man
behind the wheel.
- Oh, dear.

So, anyway, that's how
I got the job. Very grim.

Oh, speaking of
grim, tell me about

this-this desperate
situation that you're in.

Desperate? Did I say that?

You certainly did. It's-It's
right here in the telegram.

Oh, well, uh— Probably
what I, uh, what I...

Good morning— Good
morning all. Oh, hi, Doc.

Well, I guess I
know who this is.

Good morning, ma'am.
Dr. Penn Walker at your service.

The whole town has
been expecting your arrival.

It's a pleasure to make
your acquaintance.

Well, that's very nice. Doctor? Well,
actually I'm sort of the town dentist.

But, uh, Doc sounds a little more
important. Well, that's all done.

I think, uh, I think we'd better get
going. Nice to see you again, Doc.

Guess you know, we all like
Dorian a whole lot around these parts.

Well, I'm very fond of him myself.
Well, yes, ma'am, I guess you are.

Uh, I'd get that pin
fixed before you lose it.

It's nice workmanship. Hand-tooled,
isn't it? But it's coming loose.

Are you interested in jewelry,
Doctor? Oh, it's just a hobby.

Well, see ya later, Doc.

Bye, Dorian. And a pleasure
to meet you, Mrs. Beecher.

Thank you.

Doc's a great guy. He and Gretchen
were engaged. The dead poetry teacher.

Dorian— He was off traveling
in Italy when it happened.

What a homecoming,
huh? Oh, yes. Now...

Say, what do you think of the great
old English bike I borrowed for you, huh?

Oh, it's-it's fine.

Yeah. The car is borrowed too, I'm afraid.
On my salary, I don't make enough...

Dorian, will you please
stop talking and tell me...

why did the town dentist
refer to me as Mrs. Beecher?

Did he do that? Well, for
heaven's sakes. Really?

Yes. He did, and you know that
he did. Now, can you explain why?

All right. Jessica,
I've fallen in love.

Well, that's hardly
something new, Dorian.

Oh yes, I know.

But this time it's the real
thing. I know it is. I can feel it.

I can't eat, I can't sleep, I feel dizzy,
short of breath, my heart pounds...

You sure you're getting
enough exercise?

Her name is Sarah. Sarah Dupont.

Soft, angelic, a prelude by
Liszt, a painting by Renoir.

She sounds lovely.

Her father, on the other hand, Edwin
Dupont, is my employer at the academy,

A dirge by Berlioz.
A bad dream by Dali.

But how do I fit into all this?

Well, Dupont is something of a
fanatic when it comes to roots.

Pedigree, the family tree— And
as you know, I am an orphan.

And when Sarah suggested that
I invite my mother for a visit, I...

You didn't.

I did.

But, Dorian...

Oh, I'm sorry, Jessica, but I just had to
have a mother at least for one weekend.

I—I couldn't think of anyone else
that I'd feel prouder of than you.

Look, I'm very flattered, but it
puts me in a terrible position.

I don't know what...

That's it, Nate Findley. Next
time! Next time you get it!

Hello!

Oh, Mrs. Beecher. I'm so
thrilled that you've come for a visit.

Dorian has told us so much about
you. Uh, yes. Uh, you must be Sarah.

Well, actually,
I'm, uh, really, uh...

Actually, I'm really very
pleased to meet you, Sarah.

Thank you, Mother.

Lousy dummkopf horses!

Van Stotter, that
makes twice this month.

If you can't keep control of the
stable, I'll find someone who can.

Findley, I want to talk to you.

I've got no time for
chitchat, Beecher.

It was you last night at the bridge,
wasn't it? You've been seein' spooks.

I know the difference
between a ghostly apparition...

and a lard-bottomed dumb-headed
lummox dressed for Halloween.

You're not gonna scare
me off! Get out of my way!

Ho, Gunshot!

Ja,go get 'em, Nate.

Damn kids gonna
make me lose my job.

Charlotte, I want Nate
Findley out of this school!

The man is a bad
influence on the students.

Calm down, Edwin. Nate's as
good as they come in the saddle,

and you know how important
the riding program is to this school.

He is an uncultivated roughneck
from a long line of grocery clerks.

If you're worried about
your precious daughter,

I'd check out the new English
instructor, Dorian Beecher.

Oh, excuse me. I hope
I'm not interrupting anything.

Not at all, Dorian. Come in.

And this must be your lovely
mother we've heard so much about.

I'm Charlotte Newcastle, the school
administrator. Won't you come in?

Thank you. I'm delighted
to meet you. This is...

Edwin Dupont. I own this school.

Mrs. Beecher, aren't you a bit
young to have a son Dorian's age?

Well, actually, becoming
Dorian's mother was one of the...

biggest surprises of my life.

Tell me about Dorian's
father, Mrs. Beecher.

A professional man, I presume?

I'm sorry, ma'am. I found these boys
with their ears plugged to the door.

And they spooked the horses
too. They got no respect.

Excuse me.

Todd, is this true? Did
you run the horses off?

What about you two? Robert?

Brendan? Have you
got anything to say?

Very well. Mr. Van Stotter,
take the boys to their rooms.

I'll deal with them
later. Yes, missus.

And they wonder why
their own parents didn't

want them home for
the holiday weekends.

You're not going riding, Nate.

It's dark out, and there's
a storm coming up.

You're concerned about
me, Charlotte. That's nice.

I want you to stay away from Edwin's
daughter. Satisfy your needs elsewhere.

Is that an order or an offer?

I don't have any slack on this
thing, Nate. Stay away from her,

or I'll have to get a
new riding instructor.

I don't think you want
to do that, Charlotte.

A man gets fired, he
fights back. I don't think

Edwin would understand
your attraction to me.

The proper headmistress and
the riding instructor. Very juicy.

Don't threaten me, Nate.

No? My daddy always taught me
that one good threat deserves another.

All right, now. Listen
to me. Jessica, please.

You're not gonna spoil
everything by turning honest on me.

That's exactly
what I'm going to do.

Dorian, I admire and respect
you as a poet, but the rest of it...

You are a mess.

My gracious, you must be
Dorian's mother. I'm Bobbie.

Oh, Dorian, she is exactly
the way you described her.

Elegant as a duchess,
soft as a kitten,

with eyes that smile
with a child's laughter.

- Dorian, did you say that about me?
- Well, yes, I suppose I did.

I'm not sure he remembers, Mrs. Beecher.
He was totally polluted at the time.

Well, can I get you something?

Um, yeah, I'll have a very
dry martini. Make-Make

that a double. Dorian,
make that a single, dear.

I don't want you polluted with me. Could
I have a cherry cola with a lot of ice?

All that sugar? Mmm,
that's bad for the teeth.

Bobbie, make sure to
put all this on my bill.

That's Yankee
hospitality. No arguments.

Well, wouldn't dream of it. Doc, won't
you join us? You don't mind, Mother?

Don't mind if I do. Thank you. So,
what'll you have, Doc? The usual?

You bet. Okay.

Raining yet, Doc?
Uh, no. It's threatenin'.

That's a mighty
handsome piece of jewelry

you got there, Bobbie.
Where'd you get that?

Nate Findley, Doc.

Guess he figures it'll get him
somewhere, which it won't.

Oh, Dorian, don't
start something.

Well, now, I didn't know
poets stayed out after nightfall,

especially ones that are prone to be
scared by ghosts on dark and stormy nights.

I, uh, I don't believe
we asked you to join

us, Mr. Findley. This'll
be real brief, ma'am.

Stay away from Sarah Dupont,
poet. She's private property.

Sarah is in love
with me, Findley.

That's 'cause you've filled her
brain with that poetical drivel of yours,

but let me tell ya.

I know how to make a woman throb
with passion, and that girl's no exception.

Come on, Dorian.
Give him a punch!

Come on, Dorian. Come on.

You can do it. Come on, Dorian.

Dorian. Come on.
Use it, pal. Let's go.

- Come on, Dorian.
- Run it through, Dorian.

Sheriff. That's enough.

Stay where you are.
Stay where you are, Nate.

Give me the sword, Dorian.

- Dorian!
- Give me the sword.

I'll go with him,
Mr. Findley. You stay here.

I think something's broken.

Hey, Bob, pour me a whiskey.

Dorian! Jessica, please. I—I'm
much too humiliated for conversation.

I'll-I'll talk to you tomorrow.

Hello there.

Sarah?

Sarah!

Sarah, it's me, Dorian.

Dorian.

Dorian. Hey. Whatcha doin',
Dorian? Out spook huntin'?

Hey, fellas, how about a
ride back to the school, huh?

School? Dorian, what about
your Headless Horseman?

You know, you gotta
show him who's boss.

Now I hear this fella carries
a big pumpkin in one hand.

So maybe you can help
him carve it up, huh?

I don't like it, Dorn. Nate would
never leave Gunshot like this.

Ja,he's been like this for a while
too. All the sweat's all dried up.

Dorian, oh, my God.
You look dreadful.

A lot better than Nate
Findley's gonna look when

I get through with him.
Good. His horse is here.

He must be around somewhere.
No, we've checked. What happened?

Last night, he and this beast ran me
down, doin' his Headless Horseman routine.

When was this,
Mr. Beecher? Where?

I'm sorry, ma'am. I can't let you
through. That's all right, Charlie.

Mornin', ma'am.
Morning, Sheriff.

Well, you're up and about early this
morning. Oh, no earlier than usual.

What is it? Is something wrong?

Have you seen your son this
morning, ma'am? My son? Oh, my son!

Uh, no.

Sheriff, what's going on? Maybe
you could tell me, Mrs. Newcastle.

Last night, Nate Findley's
horse came back to

the stable alone.
Naturally, we're concerned,

and Dorian says this is the spot
where Nathan tried to run him down.

No, not tried. He succeeded.

- I was out cold for hours.
- Good Lord.

I'm fine, Jessi— Mother.

Sheriff, do you have any
idea where Nate might be?

Might. You ever see
this before, Mr. Beecher?

Oh, yes, of course. It
belongs to Nate Findley.

Yeah. I found it in the
mud right over there.

Well, now maybe you'll believe
what I've been trying to tell you...

about Nate and that-and that dreadful
getup he's been galloping around in.

Well, last night at the
tavern you were wavin'

that old saber around,
kinda threatening-like.

Sheriff, is there something that we ought
to know about? Well, I didn't take it.

A couple of those
gravel-brained barflys snatched it.

They—They-They drove
by here while I was walking

along last night, and
they tossed it to me...

to protect myself from
goblins. Ridiculous.

So you had the sword with you
when Nate tried to run you down?

Sheriff, I'm sorry but— Turn
down your burners, Mrs. Beecher.

Couple of kids came out here
bass fishin' around daybreak.

They're the ones who
phoned into the office.

Nate! I wouldn't do that, ma'am.

It's Nate all right,
or what's left of him.

Someone cut off his
head and carted it away.

You threatened him...

with this sword in
front of witnesses.

And I found it in the weeds
only a few yards from the victim.

Sheriff, Dorian has
already explained to you

how he came to be in
possession of the saber.

Yeah, and if that's
true, maybe, just

maybe, we're not talkin'
premeditation here.

Oh, but for heaven's sakes.
Now look, if Dorian had killed Nate,

why would he have led Charlotte
Newcastle to the scene of the crime?

Because he's a smart fella.

And why did he cut off Nate's
head? Because that was smart?

Well, uh— And finally, Sheriff,

perhaps you could tell me why
Nate's boots were on the wrong feet?

- Say, I didn't notice— -
Maybe you should have.

I don't care if he was
wearing bedroom slippers.

I got a headless body and a
bloody saber. And the wrong suspect.

Now Dorian has sworn that he did
not kill him. Of course he'd say that.

Well, Dorian doesn't lie!

- Well, naturally you'd say that,
bein' his mother.
- And I am not his mother!

That so?

I'm a friend.

I, uh, I'm a very good friend.

Well, ma'am,
whatever your name is,

it sure is encouraging to hear
that old Dorian here doesn't lie.

Really warms my heart.

This is simply awful.

It certainly is. When Dupont finds
out that you're not really my mother,

that'll be the end of
my romance with Sarah.

Oh, Dorian, will you look at me and pay
attention? You are facing a murder charge.

Murder. Twenty years
to life. Maybe worse.

Oh, Jessica, if I were
going to kill anybody,

I-I certainly wouldn't
decapitate them.

That is really disgusting.

Yes, and I wonder
why it was done.

And those boots on the wrong feet. I
mean, there's got to be a good reason.

All right. Now tell me again.

Exactly what did
you see, hear...

or do last evening from the
moment that you left me at the hotel?

Jessica, I already told you.

I-I walked over to Sarah's house.
Her father almost ran me down.

- What? You never told me that.
- Didn't I? Are you sure?

Dorian, why would Edwin
Dupont want to run you down?

Well, he didn't exactly. Uh,
he didn't know I was there.

I kind of... jumped back into the
bushes, so he wouldn't see me.

Seems awfully late to be
driving off into the night.

- Are you sure that it was
Edwin Dupont behind the wheel?
- Almost positive.

Almost? Very positive.

Dorian's wrong. I was
driving the car, not my father.

Mind telling me where
you were going? Going?

I needed some fresh night
air. To clear my head. To think.

And where was your
father? He wasn't here.

Dorian knocked loudly
on the door several times.

He— He was asleep.

He was very tired. He'd
gone to bed around 9:00.

You know, Sarah,
you're a dreadful liar.

But I suppose I'm in no
position to criticize since I am too.

And since this seems to be the time
that we should all start telling the truth,

- I am not really Dorian's mother.
- What?

I'm really— J.B. Fletcher.

I just received a telephone
call from Sheriff Rankin.

Mrs. Fletcher, I am not
amused by your deception.

I know and I'm sorry. Dorian
may not be my son but...

My daughter and I had nothing to
do with the death of Nate Findley.

As for last night, Dorian is correct.
I'm the one who drove the car.

Father— Earlier in the evening, I
had found an anonymous note...

accusing Charlotte Newcastle
of embezzling school funds.

I waited until
Sarah was asleep...

before I left to confront
Charlotte at the academy.

And what did she say?

She denied
everything, of course.

I told her I would be retaining an
independent auditor to go over the books.

We exchanged a few
unpleasantries, and I left.

To go where, may I ask?

Although it is none of your
business, I came directly home.

Father, there's no need to
be rude— Sarah, be quiet!

Now, Mrs. Fletcher,

it is my considered
opinion that your friend

Dorian Beecher is
a cold-blooded killer,

but in the unlikely event
that you prove otherwise,

give him a message for me.

He is never again to
see my daughter, or there

could very likely be
another killing in this town.

We used to ride
horses in the summer.

I think we enjoyed brushing them
down as much as we enjoyed riding them.

You know, I really
believe that horses know...

when they lose a friend.

What do you think, Todd?

Nate never cared about
Gunshot. Not like you.

I couldn't help but
notice you outside the

tavern last night, feeding
an apple to Gunshot.

So what? I do things for the horse.
But I came to school right after that.

And your friends, Robert and
Brendan. They were with you?

Look, I gotta go.

Oh, we could do with
some help from you about

this thing, ol' boy. You
saw it all, didn't you?

Hello?

Hello?

Anyone here?

What are you doing there, Missus?
Oh, Mr. Van Stotter. I was looking for you.

Charlotte Newcastle told me that you
just returned from a trip— Cloverdale.

Ja,I got back earlier. Oh, then you
must have heard about poor Mr. Findley.

It was dreadful.

Dreadful. Ja.

I wanted to ask you— You got
questions, missus, you ask somebody else.

Look, I'm sorry. I
don't mean to be a pest,

but the sheriff is holding Dorian Beecher
which, of course, is absolutely absurd...

Look, maybe you
don't hear me so good.

Everybody here knows I don't much
like young Mr. Findley, but why I kill him?

I got no reason.

There are people here with
reasons, you bet. You ask them.

Ask who, Mr. Van Stotter?

Charlotte Newcastle, perhaps?

We've got to tell someone. No,
they'll expel us. We'll have to go home.

It's all your fault, Todd. You
got us into this. It was your idea.

Yeah? So what? I'm
in charge here, not you.

And nobody's saying a word
about anything. You got that?

Hello. Am I interrupting?

Oh, come in, Mrs. Fletcher.
It is Mrs. Fletcher, isn't it?

News travels fast.

I just got off the phone
with Edwin Dupont.

Dorian has good taste in
mothers even if they are stand-ins.

Well, thank you. I don't
suppose any real harm was done.

Except to Edwin's
puritan sensibilities.

Well, you must be here about
the note. The one accusing

me of being the biggest
thief since Robert Vesco.

Well— Let's not
fence, Mrs. Fletcher.

There is a problem,
but I am not responsible.

Then you had no
idea what happened?

No, not until Edwin
confronted me.

But someone knew, or else
who sent the note? Nate Findley?

Are you trying to tie
me in with Nate's death?

I'm just trying to clear
Dorian Beecher's name.

That note. Would you
mind if I had a look at it?

Whoever wrote it went to a lot of
trouble to disguise their handwriting.

The block printing is so childlike.
Anyone could have written it.

You mean someone
unschooled in English. I mean,

look at that spelling.
One of the students?

Mr. Van Stotter has spent a great
deal of time in Cloverton, hasn't he?

That's where he buys the horses
and equipment for the stables.

And where his daughter died
mysteriously this past summer?

What's one got to
do with the other?

Maybe nothing. I'm
just exploring all angles.

Dorian, are you all right?

Oh, sure. I'm fine.

Well, try to control
your enthusiasm.

I mean at least the sheriff's released
you. That's something, I suppose.

I tried to call Sarah. Her
father got on the phone.

He made these terrible
threats against me.

Jessica, the man is a
tyrant, a chauvinistic cretin...

Dorian, I just
wanted to tell you.

Well, I don't think
you killed Nate.

Oh, thank you,
Bobbie. But if you did,

I mean, in self-defense or
something, I could understand it.

He sure was a sight,
all dressed up like that.

He would have
scared me half to death.

Just a moment. Bobbie,
you mean you actually saw...

Nate Findley disguised as
the Headless Horseman?

Oh, no, ma'am. Not exactly.

But I did see him riding through town on
Gunshot. His black cloak flying behind him,

that-that black floppy hat
pulled down over his head.

- He was real spooky looking.
- That's how I saw him.

When was that?

Um, it was just
before closing time.

I stepped out to get some
air. Maybe 11:30 or so.

Odd. The sheriff said that
Nate was here until ten thirty.

Now where was
he during that hour?

Well, not with me. You
want another one of those?

Hmm? Oh, yeah. Yeah, please,
and bring a couple more olives.

I didn't get any lunch. Sure.

Dorian!

Ah! Oh! As if things weren't bad
enough, I think I broke a tooth.

Let me look.

Ah. Ah. Ah!

You're in luck,
Dorian. It's not a tooth.

It feels awful. Yes,
I know. Open up.

It's a—You loosened a cap,
but I can re-cement it for you.

Is it gonna hurt? With all that
vodka you're been drinking?

Doc. Hmm?

Last night, did you notice anything
strange about Nate Findley?

His behavior, the
way he was dressed?

Well, his behavior, as you
well know, was abominable.

But, uh, his dress?
Nothing I noticed.

When they found the body,
his-his boots were on the wrong feet.

That so? Kinda
hard to walk that way.

Well, he sure didn't have any
trouble walkin' into the tavern.

Well, maybe he got undressed
and then dressed again hurriedly.

I hear Nate did that a lot, usually
with an irate husband in the vicinity.

- Or a father.
- What? What was that, Jessica?

Oh, nothing. It just slipped out.
Open wide for me, Dorian, please.

Sarah, I am
warning you. I am not

gonna permit this sort
of insolent behavior!

You won't permit! Oh, that's
wonderful, Father. You won't permit.

I am your father! And is that supposed
to make me proud? Afraid? What?

I am only thinking
of your welfare.

You haven't thought
about me in years except as

someone to cook your
meals and clean up after you.

I haven't been a daughter. I've
been a housekeeper. Well, no more.

And what are you going to do now?
Marry Dorian Beecher? No, Father.

Right now I'm gonna
walk to the hotel and spend

the night in a soft bed
in a nice quiet room,

and tomorrow I'm gonna order room service
and let someone wait on me for a change.

Sarah. Sarah—You'll be back!

Sarah!

Thievery, Jessica. I hate
to believe it, but there it is.

Dorn Van Stotter.
I am such a fool.

I should have fired him months
ago, but he was going through

such a terrible time because
of the death of his daughter.

I didn't have the heart to.
And this is how he repays me.

- There may be an explanation.
- Hmm, maybe.

But Van Stotter's gonna have to
explain this one to Sheriff Rankin.

Yes. Well, uh, I really
have to be running along.

Get me the sheriff's
office, please.

I didn't make it up.
I'm tellin' the truth.

That's a lie! You just
wanna seem important.

That's not true! Yes, it is!

When I was a little girl, if you knew
the secret knock, it entitled you to enter.

Well, now let me see.

It's Robert, Todd and
Brendan. Is that right?

Now, boys, it's
time that we talked.

I mean, if the sheriff
had caught you sneaking

around the way you have
been the last few days,

he would probably think that you had
something to do with Nate Findley's death.

We didn't kill him. We just wanted
to have some fun with old Dorian.

Robert, shut up! Oh, I'm sure you didn't
want to kill him, but I smell a prank.

Todd was the one thought up the Headless
Horseman thing. We were just lookouts.

Well, you should have seen him jump
when we threw that pumpkin at him.

Dorian is a major league coward. And
that was the first time? A t the bridge?

That was the only time. And
we didn't cut Nate's head off.

I know who did.

Oh, come on. You don't have
any idea who did. I saw him bury it.

He buried it in a
corner of the stable.

He was carrying a lantern and
somethin' in a gunnysack. I swear!

Who did you see, Robert?

It was Dorn Van Stotter.
I saw it clear as glass.

It was pretty dark,
son. I know what I saw.

Sheriff.

It's all right, ma'am.
Cash money. And lots of it.

What are you doing there?

What are you doing with
my money? You have no right.

Oh, I have a right, sir.
This warrant says I do.

I didn't want to steal. I
had to. I needed the money.

- Then you're admitting
you embezzled school funds?
- Ja.

Oh, Dorn, why didn't
you come to me?

I did come to you,
missus, and to Mr. Dupont.

You said there is no
money, so I take what I need.

Need for what, Mr. Van Stotter?

For the detective.

Last summer, my little
girl, Gretchen, was killed.

The police say it was
accident, but I know better.

There was a man in the car with her. I
don't know who, but I know it somebody.

When the police don't
help, I hire this detective.

Copies of police reports, interviews,
surveillances— Not much here.

- It still takes money.
- And the note to Edwin?

Accusing me? You sent that?

Why would I send note
when I am the thief?

Why indeed? No, Charlotte.

I can't prove this,
but I have a sneaking

hunch that that note
was sent by Nate Findley,

perhaps to stir up the water...

and to put an end to
Mr. Van Stotter's investigation.

Well, what are you saying? Van Stotter
here killed Findley because of the note?

Oh, no, Sheriff. It was someone
else for an entirely different reason.

For the first time, the
pieces are beginning to fit.

Mrs. Fletcher. Oh, Doc.

Got a call from Dorian.
You wanted to see me.

I hope there's nothin' wrong
with those pretty teeth of yours.

Oh, no, Doc, they're fine.
Thank you. Won't you sit down?

Something wrong? You
seem a little out of sorts.

I wanted to talk to you about
Gretchen, and this isn't going to be easy.

I-I saw her picture in
your office. A lovely looking

girl. I understand that you
were going to be married.

I don't like to talk
about it much.

The accident. You were
touring in Italy when it happened?

Ma'am, really, I'd rather not...

And while you were gone she moved
away from Wenton— went to Cloverton.

She became involved
with another man.

Just rumor. You've
been talking to her father?

The other man was Nate
Findley, wasn't it, Doc?

Is that why you brought me here,
Mrs. Fletcher? To open up old wounds?

No, Doc. I'm sure
that Nate deserved...

the punishment that he got for what
he did to your fiancée, but not murder.

Well, I'm sorry. I'm not gonna sit
here and listen— Yes, you are, Doc.

There's a photo of
Gretchen in this folder.

She's wearing a very
distinctive necklace.

I'd seen that necklace
two nights before.

The young waitress had been wearing it. I
remember how interested that you'd been.

That's a handsome piece of jewelry
you got there, Bobbie. Where'd you get it?

Nate Findley, Doc.

When we first met, you told me
that you made jewelry as a hobby.

It's my guess that you
made this for Gretchen,

and then she either gave
it to Nate, or he took it.

All right, so I made the necklace.
That doesn't prove I killed Nate.

Dorian's the one
who fought with him.

Yes, and as I recall he
put up a pretty good fight.

In fact, I think he may have hit Nate
hard enough to jar loose one of his teeth.

I think something's broken.
Hey, Bob, pour me a whiskey.

Sheriff?

Oh, no, ma'am.
You're—You're doin' just fine.

Well, a lot of things didn't make
much sense about Nate's death,

but the biggest puzzle of
all was the missing head.

Why was the head missing?
For effect? Well, hardly.

But suppose there was
something about that head...

that would instantly
point a finger at his killer.

For example, fresh dental work.

We're gonna find it
sooner or later, Doc. It'd

go a lot better for
you if you tell us now.

I hadn't planned to kill him.
I didn't think I had the guts.

I'd just gotten back to my place when
Nate showed up with that broken tooth.

He was in a lot of
pain, cussin' out Dorian.

And just like you
figured, Mrs. Fletcher,

by then I knew he was the one.

But I just kept workin' on that tooth,
tryin' to figure out somethin' to do.

And then he saw Gretchen's
picture, and he started talkin’ about her.

He was drunk out of his mind.

Just the way he'd been that night
when he drove her car into the river...

and then swam off to save his
own skin without tryin' to help her.

Oh, yes. He told
me all about it.

I got dizzy. My
head was poundin'.

Suddenly, I just took a pick
and jabbed it into his neck.

It didn't take long to die.

His horse had
been left out back,

and I knew that I had to make
it seem that he'd ridden out

of town, that the killing
took place out in the country.

So I, uh, stripped off
his outfit, and I put it on.

Then I rode out of town makin' a
big ruckus, so's folks would notice.

Then out on the road near the
school, I nearly ran down Dorian.

Poor guy. Scared
the heart out of him.

And then it came to me.
Dorian threatenin' Nate.

The Headless Horseman—
It all seemed so perfect.

Dorian was lyin'
there out cold. So I, uh,

let the horse go, and
I rushed back to town.

Nate's body was stuffed
into the trunk of my car.

I drove back out and
redressed Nate in the outfit...

I guess that explains how
the boots got on the wrong feet.

Then I took the saber, and...

You know the rest of it.

I'm sorry, Doc.

Doesn't matter.

Gretchen was the best thing
that ever happened to me.

Ever since she died, I've just
been going through the motions.

Now don't you worry about
me. The train'll be along

in a minute, and you
have a class to get back to.

Oh, never mind the
class. I just find it so

hard to concentrate,
worrying about Sarah.

You know she—She
checked out of the hotel this

morning, and I don't
know where she got to.

You're going to find her,
Dorian. And remember,

I expect to be
invited to the wedding,

even if I can't play the
mother of the groom.

Thank you. Sarah!

Oh, Dorian.

Sarah, what-what is it? What's
wrong? Where-Where are you going?

Oh, Dorian, you were
so right about me.

I've been a doormat all my life. I have
you to thank for showing me the way.

The way? To New
York City, of course.

To find the real me— Blossom
forth, drink in the world.

But, Sarah, what about us?

We'll always have Wenton. I'll
send you a postcard from Radio City.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher, I do so
hope you'll let me ride with you.

Well, yes, of course—
You have been an

inspiration to me. A
role model, so to speak.

If it hadn't been for you, I might have
spent my entire life in this Dudsville.

Oh, here she comes. I have to
buy my ticket. See you on the train.

Uh, Jessica?

Next time I send
you an urgent S.O.S.,

ignore it, please?