All language subtitles for Murder, She Wrote S03E21 The Days Dwindle Down.DVDRip.NonHI.en

For 30 years, this
house has haunted me.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

I've been looking into a murder that was
committed with a .38 here, 30 years ago.

So now we have another
suspect, a dead man.

Mrs. Jarvis couldn't
have murdered anybody.

She was playin' bedsheet
bingo with the boss.

How dare you come
waltzing in here and make

accusations against
him like this! Get out!

- There's no way to prove suicide.
- But there may be a third possibility
that nobody's considered.

Let me tell you, Mrs. Fletcher.
You can have this town at your feet.

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

Listen, can I call you Jessica?

Jess, my job is to sell you.
Now I've seen the material.

Then you've read The
Stain On The Stairs?

Not the book,
Jessie, the clippings.

This real-life sleuth action
will play like a Beatles reunion.

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

I'll tell your waiter, sir.

So, we book you and
some of the people whose

murders you've solved on
a couple of the talk shows.

Don't-Don't you think it would be
a little difficult to book the victims?

You think they might want too much
money? A joke. You know what I mean.

Look at this. "Scribe Pens Killer
Into Pen." "Writer Rights Wrong."

Mr. Peabody,

wouldn't it seem as if I was trying
to profit from people's misfortune?

This is Hollywood, J. B.

Mrs. Wilson, why don't we
let the florist handle that?

Yes, I'm sorry, sir.

Seth, I know this
sounds just terrible,

but it's just too
nice to work here.

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

I've got more spoiling
fruit than a zoo.

Oh, oh, there's the door again. I'll
see you at the end of the week, Seth.

Good-bye.

Please, Mrs. Fletcher, uh...

I know I'm imposing, but could you
give me just a little minute of your time?

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

Wilson, Georgia Wilson.

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

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

Please, of course.

Oh, God, I hate crying.

You must think I'm very foolish.

Uh, please, sit down.

No. No, I'm sorry. I
shouldn't have come.

What-What is it, Mrs. Wilson?

It's my husband, Sam.

Please, do sit down. Tell me.

Thank you.

Sam was just
released from prison.

He was there for 30 years.

Thirty years for a
crime he didn't commit.

When he came home, I thought
we could pick up and go on,

but he was broken, just broken.

He sits there and
broods and waits to die.

It's almost as if he had convinced
himself that he was guilty.

- Guilty of what?
- Murder.

That's why I came to you. I
overheard that man at lunch,

and I thought maybe—

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

Listen to his story.

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

All I want is for us, in whatever time
we have left, to have a life together.

Please, Mrs. Fletcher.

I—I don't know
where else to turn.

Sam, I'm home.

Sam, we have a visitor.

This is Jessica Fletcher.

She's a mystery writer.
I'm glad to meet you, Sam.

She brought a newspaper writer
to prison once. Didn't do any good.

Don't want anything
written about me anyway.

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

Gonna give me
back 30 years? Sam!

I didn't kill him.

Why don't you tell
me what happened?

We were having
a rough time of it...

Two children, house payments.

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

Sam. we can't go on like this. We've got
to do something. I know, dear, but what?

Why don't you ask
for some more money?

You know you're worth a lot more
than they're paying you, a lot more.

I'm only the
assistant bookkeeper.

Yes, but even assistant bookkeepers
and their families have to live.

How do they expect the four of
us to live on what you're getting?

Why don’t you
talk to Mr. Jarvis?

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

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

I don't know which
made me more nervous,

seeing the boss or
getting past his secretary.

She really enjoyed
putting me through it.

- But did you get to see Mr. Jarvis?
- Unfortunately.

- I'm fired?
- Yes.

Sir, if it's the raise...

I'm sorry, but you know the
financial condition of the firm.

You must have realized we can't go
on this way. We've got to cut expenses.

I've been with
the firm 12 years.

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

We haven't saved much money.

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

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

The firm'll come back,
Mr. Jarvis, if you hang on a while.

You'd be justified in putting in some
money of your own. Money of my own?

That's a laugh.

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

Zero. Maybe worse. Maybe
Mr. Herne would put in some.

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

He's willing to put money in
on one condition: that I get out.

But he won't pay me anything, says the firm
has no assets and isn't worth anything.

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

Except about $10,000.10,000...

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

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

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

And that's when our
troubles really began.

Sam, I'm going to kill myself.

No, you're joking, Mr. Jarvis.

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

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

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

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

he couldn't provide anymore.

He'd increased his life insurance
policy. Oh, but life insurance...

usually doesn't pay for suicide.

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

I want you to make my
suicide look like murder.

Murder? I've made all my plans.

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

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

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

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

Scatter papers on the floor,
make it look like a robbery.

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

to take the gun, fire some
shots inside the library...

And get rid of the gun.

- Incredible!
- Naturally, I turned him down.

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

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

He insisted that he
was going to kill himself,

and sooner than he'd planned.

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

I drove as fast as I dared.
I had to talk him out of it.

But you never got a chance to.

When I arrived, the
front door was open.

I went into the library, but
he'd already killed himself.

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

Then I saw the note.

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

He begged me
not to let him down.

Well, it seemed like he'd already done
it, so I took the envelope and the gun.

I left the house. Then I remembered I
was supposed to fire some shots inside.

Well, it was too late for that, so
I fired two shots in from outside.

But didn't that prove
your innocence?

How? Well, because the
killer would hardly fire shots in...

from outside after
killing his victim.

I mean, he'd just
attract attention.

And if the killer had fired shots
from outside before going in,

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

The evidence against
me was too strong...

- for the police to let that bother them.
- What other evidence?

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

I washed my hands in the garage,

but I forgot to clean
the steering wheel.

The police found
blood on it from the gun.

And what did you
do with the gun?

Before I went home, I drove
to the Santa Monica pier.

I was nervous as hell. So I
walked down below the pier...

where it was
deserted by the pilings,

and I threw the
gun into the water.

So the police recovered the
gun and did a ballistics match?

No, the gun was never recovered.
But all three bullets matched.

Lieutenant Webb
made that very clear...

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

The autopsy report shows the
bullet that killed Jarvis was from a .38.

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

Ah, yes, Mr. Wilson,
right there.

That look just about nailed me.

Webb hadn't said
which wall they were in.

But what about the note
that Jarvis left for you?

Didn't that prove
your innocence?

I'd already burned it...

before I became the
number one suspect.

Sam did everything he
could to help Mr. Jarvis,

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

You can't blame them, Georgia. How
were they to know about Jarvis’s plan?

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

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

A quarter of a million
dollar life insurance policy.

What had it been
before he raised it?

10,000.

Well, surely that
must have looked

suspicious to this
Lieutenant Webb? Not him.

Webb, the terror of the
O.S.S., always got his man.

He had a very convincing limp.

He just couldn't
bother with insurance.

Well, I think I'd like to
meet this Lieutenant Webb.

Good luck.

Oh, Rod, Terry.

- I'd like you to meet Jessica Fletcher.
- Nice to meet you both.

You're kidding? I just
finished one of your books.

The mystery writer, honey. Mom.

We were just at Lamaze class.

Boy, I haven't breathed so
heavily in about eight months.

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

I tried to contact
Webb years ago.

I was told he's retired
and not available.

He was available enough
when it came to convicting Sam.

I had such faith in him too.

Well, I have a few days here in
town, so I'd like to see what I can do.

Perhaps I can find this
Lieutenant Webb or...

Sam, I believe you.

God, I idolize my father.

I even became a cop because I
thought I could use the job to clear him.

Did you ever get to
see the police file?

It was missing.
Somebody removed it.

You want a file?

My own investigation,
I keep it with me.

Newspapers, court records,
depositions, the works.

Well, it certainly
looks very thorough.

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

I'd be a sergeant instead of a desk
drone, for all the good it did Pop.

Would you mind if I
borrowed this for the night?

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

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

It's a dead end, believe me.
There's no way to prove suicide,

and the sooner my mother faces up to that,
the sooner we can get on with our lives.

You know Rod, maybe the reason that
you couldn't prove that it was suicide...

was because it wasn't.

I thought you believed Pop.

I do.

But there may be a third
possibility that nobody's considered.

Mr. Jarvis could have been
murdered by somebody else.

It will spoil.

Well, nevertheless,
madam, your publisher

stipulated you were to be
given a basket each day.

Please. But don't you have a charity
that could use all this beautiful fruit?

Charity?

- Mrs. Fletcher?
- Oh, oh, Rod, Sam.

Please, come on in.

Rod, you have done an extraordinary
piece of police work on this file.

We appreciate your interest, Mrs.
Fletcher, but you don't need to humor me.

Oh, believe me, I'm not.

I read that case from cover
to cover and believe me...

The case against you
simply does not add up.

The killer could
have already been

in the house when
Jarvis called you, Sam.

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

That would explain
why he said...

that the plan was going forward
sooner than he had expected.

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

Well, perhaps the
killer was afraid that

Jarvis wouldn't go
through with the suicide.

Pop, are you okay?

Thirty years.

For 30 years, this
house has haunted me.

Yes? What can I do for you?

Sam? Sam Wilson?

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

How could I forget you?

The Battle of
Austerlitz, to scale.

Father got me started on these.

In a much smaller
way, of course.

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

Uh, she's interested in
Pop's case. Uh-huh. I see.

Uh, Mr. Jarvis, I— I realize
that this may be difficult for you,

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

to see if possibly some
evidence was left out.

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

- I suppose there's a lot
of money in that.
- That's not it at all.

I don't mean to be rude, Sam,
but it doesn't seem quite right...

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

I'm confused, Mr. Jarvis.
I thought that you

didn't believe that
Sam killed your father.

I mean, uh, didn’t you confide in Sam the
very next day your suspicion of Mr. Herne?

You saw Mr. Herne at
your house last night?

He doesn't know I
saw him, but I did.

And didn't that
prove that Herne was

lying when he was questioned
by Lieutenant Webb?

Sure. I quarreled with
Jarvis several times.

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

personally, but that
doesn't mean I killed him.

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

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

Why should I go see him
at his home when I could

see him anytime I
wanted here at the office?

There may have
been other suspects,

Mrs. Fletcher, but Sam
was the one they found guilty.

Sam, I'm sorry, but I really don't
see the point in dredging up the past.

Mr. Jarvis, if Sam were guilty, why on
earth would he stir this up all over again?

I mean, he's got nothing to
gain, except peace of mind.

Very persuasive, Mrs. Fletcher.

You may snoop
around if you want to.

Well, thank you.

I wonder, would it be possible
for me to talk with Mrs. Jarvis?

I'm a bachelor. Oh,
I meant your mother.

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

I imagine that you would like to, uh, begin
in the library. It's just through here.

Thank you.

Rod, while you're at work, could you
confirm if Mrs. Jarvis is really dead?

But why would Sidney lie?
Well, that's a good question.

Mrs. Fletcher, what a pleasure.

Thank you for taking time to see
me on such short notice, Ms. Davis.

Uh, I have a confession to
make, actually I prefer Mrs.

So do I.

Please. Thank you.

You know, I hate sitting behind
a desk when I talk to a client.

I like getting to know the
people that I'm working with.

You know, a friend of mine used to work
with your grandfather. Really? Who was it?

Oh, this was a long time ago,
when Mr. Jarvis was still with the firm.

I must say, the firm staged quite a
comeback when your grandfather took over.

Yes, we’re Jarvis in name only
now—once upon a time it meant something.

Before Mr. Jarvis’s
unfortunate death?

I remember my
friend telling me...

that your grandfather
was actually a suspect.

Mrs. Fletcher,

I had assumed that you wanted this
appointment for investment advice.

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

My friend who worked in
the office is Sam Wilson.

He just got— Oh, I-I can see
where this conversation is going.

So let me assure you right
now that my grandfather

was cleared of any
involvement in Jarvis’s death.

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

Do you know what happened
in the Jarvis mansion...

the night of Mr. Jarvis's death?

He was completing a deal for my
grandfather to take over this firm.

Oh? Well, now I am confused.

At the time, Mrs. Jarvis said...

that your grandfather gained control
of the firm after her husband's death.

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

John, the Bialoff account, now.

I believe that the
other button is intercom.

E-Excuse me, miss?

Pardon me, but are you
Miss Vante? Thelma?

Oh, no. She hasn't
been here for years.

Oh, I'm sorry to
have bothered you.

I haven't seen her for a long time.
I used to be a client of Mr. Jarvis.

He was such a nice
man, such a tragedy.

Tell me, whatever happened to Thelma?
She was such a pretty, sweet young lady.

Mrs. Fletcher?

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

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

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

How about a nice
glass of iced coffee?

Well, if it's not too
much trouble. Trouble?

Oh. Wait till I tell the girls—
Me in a book by J.B. Fletcher.

Well, as I said on the phone, I'm really
only doing research on the case now.

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

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

Well, you know the only ones who got
anything out of that was the wife and kids.

All that insurance money,

and there I was out
in the street. Hmm.

Oh, my, what
impressive equipment.

Oh, well, that belonged
to my husband. The hunk.

I thought you might be
interested. There, there he is.

Oh, yes, he's very handsome.
He sure was, the no-good son of a...

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

May I? Mm-hmm.

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

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

But you see, he— He
had other qualities.

Oh.

Oh, my, what a
lovely home you had.

Split-level, with a
kidney shaped pool.

Tell me, what did you make of
Mr. Jarvis’s relationship with his wife?

You don't think
Mrs. Jarvis iced him?

Well, she was supposed to be spending
the weekend at their beach house,

but according to the
testimony of her maid,

she arrived there well
after Mr. Jarvis was dead.

Mrs. Jarvis couldn't
have murdered anybody.

You mean she was too nice?

She didn't have the guts.

Good-bye, and thank you again.

My pleasure, J.B. Be sure and send
me a signed copy of that book now.

Hello? This is a
voice from your past.

Yes, how nice to be remembered.

There seems to be some
new interest in our problem.

I always thought Mrs.
Jarvis was cold, Jessica,

but murdering her husband?

Well, she—she was the one
most likely to know about his plan,

and she had the
easiest access to him.

Of course that
doesn't prove anything,

but it's suspicious the way she lied
about Herne's takeover of the firm.

If you believe Dorothy Herne.

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

Even after Mr. Jarvis’s
death, Mr. Herne still

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

But why would Dorothy Herne lie?

Perhaps to protect her
grandfather's reputation,

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

So now we have another
suspect, a dead man.

Well, maybe one of our suspects
is dead, but Mrs. Jarvis is alive.

She's been living at the
Fairfield Rest Home...

on and off ever
since Jarvis’s death.

- Now we're getting somewhere.
- But why would Sidney lie
about his mother being dead?

Well, maybe we ought to pay her a visit
and find out first thing in the morning.

Jessica! Thank
God you're all right.

Oh, Rod, I told you on the phone,
I'm fine, but thanks for coming over.

Well, well, will
you look at that.

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

Is that bullet
from a .38 pistol?

Sure is. Did you
see the gun, ma'am?

No, Lieutenant, but I've
been looking into a murder

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

I can guess which one.

Well, I know the chances of that bullet
coming from the same gun are remote.

Yes, you could say
that. Look, ma'am,

Lieutenant Webb put this
one to bed a long time ago.

Excuse me. Uh, to
bed but not to rest.

Lieutenant Sharp, I was shot at in
the middle of the night with a bullet...

that hasn't been
manufactured in ages. Why?

The motive wasn't robbery, and it certainly
wasn't an accident. Please, humor me.

Check it out.

Jessica, you know that
bullet couldn't have come

from Jarvis's gun. Pop
threw that gun in the ocean.

Well, the same gun or not,

my guess is that somebody feels
threatened by our investigation.

Mrs. Jarvis, you have visitors.

Hello, Mrs. Jarvis.
I'm Jessica Fletcher.

How nice of you to
visit me. Do I know you?

No, but I think you
know Mrs. Wilson.

Georgia, Sam's wife.

Sam Wilson.

Sam Wilson. He
worked for my husband.

My husband grows roses.

Out by the camellias.
Did you see them?

- Yes, they're beautiful.
- Hello, Mother.

I see that you have visitors.

They like roses.

Oh, do they?

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

and I'll be right back.

All right?

Mrs. Wilson, I had hoped we might
meet under more pleasant circumstances.

This must be very
pleasant for you, Sidney.

Your mother's made
an amazing recovery.

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

I was hoping that your mother could clear
up something that has been puzzling me.

Well, as you saw, she's not well enough
to answer questions. Well, perhaps you can.

You know it's peculiar...

that there should be two such
different versions of the same event.

Dorothy Herne-Davis claims that her
grandfather made a deal with your father...

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

Timothy Herne tricked the firm from us
in a proxy fight after my father's death.

And if you need to confirm Mother's
word, it's a matter of public record.

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

perhaps you should bother
her rather than a sick old woman.

Forgive me, Mr. Jarvis, but
Dorothy Herne isn't the only one...

who has been misrepresenting
facts these past few days.

If you'll excuse us.

Well, one thing is certain.

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

Oh, I feel so
responsible, Jessica.

I didn't think anyone would want to
kill you. Well, I don't believe they were.

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

He or she had all
the time in the world to

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

No, whoever it
was meant to miss.

Then it was a warning?

Well, not necessarily.

I imagine that we'll know more
once we get the ballistic reports.

Georgia, could you
give me a lift to Herne's

and Jarvis on your
way to work? Of course.

Mrs. Davis suggests that you
could make an appointment.

Now, perhaps next month?

Well, I'd be happy to.

Of course, by that time...

the authorities will probably have been in
touch with her about the new developments.

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

Malcolm Jarvis was a failure,

a fraud who's been
deified in death.

And his family was paid more
than their stocks were worth.

My grandfather deserved this
firm after all the work he put into it,

and what did it get him?

- This-this unending suspicion.
- Well, perhaps that was unavoidable.

I mean, since their argument at the
mansion has never been really explained.

Well, it-it could've been
a thousand things, uh...

They always argued
about business.

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

Grandfather and Mr. Jarvis
arguing about business.

Mrs. Davis, you still
haven't said why you

felt it necessary to
misrepresent the takeover.

Why are you doing this?

Because an innocent man who spent
30 years in prison has a right to know why.

Now I understand you not
wanting any trouble or a lawsuit.

They wouldn't have
a leg to stand on.

Unless your
grandfather did kill Jarvis,

in which case, the ownership of
this firm could be in serious question.

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

How dare you come
waltzing in here and make

accusations against
him like this. Get out!

Get out of my office! If
you'll forgive me, Mrs. Davis,

it appears to me that you suspect
your grandfather more than anyone.

Yes, Lieutenant
Sharp, I understand.

Well, thank you.

I'm afraid the ballistics
report from Jarvis's

death is missing along
with the rest of the report,

so they can't compare
the two bullets.

But surely there's some
other way to find the same gun?

- Well, not without a ballistics report,
I'm afraid.
- Now we'll never know.

Oh, but there are several other
leads that we can track down, Sam.

Down dead-end
streets? No, not me.

Mrs. Fletcher, I have a
surprise that you will just adore.

The Louis Quatorze Suite.

As a humble gesture of our gratitude for
staying on after the unfortunate incident.

Well, that's awfully nice, but
you know, I'm just fine in my room.

If it means so much to you.

Mangoes! That's what you need!

Telephone for J.B. Fletcher.

Telephone for J.B. Fletcher.

Hello? This is Jessica
Fletcher, you have a call for me?

Yes, Mrs. Fletcher, one
moment please. Go ahead, sir.

I have some information about the
Jarvis case that might interest you.

Who is this? You'll
have to come alone.

Thank you very much.

Mrs. Fletcher, I presume.

And you must be Lieutenant Webb.

You live up to your reputation.
How'd you figure me out?

Well, I read about
your war wound.

And, uh—well, there was
the timing of your call.

And, uh, Lieutenant Sharp...

must have told you about
my interest in this case.

Sorry about all the intrigue.
This had to be strictly unofficial.

But why? If you know
something, why not come forward?

I don't know
anything, not for sure.

Look pretty shabby, me
coming forward without any proof.

And truth be told, I didn't
feel up to facing the Wilsons.

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

even though all the evidence
had him dead to rights.

Oh? The D.A. told me
to close the case quickly,

said it was my job to collect
evidence, not judge the case.

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

It's the reason I
called you over.

The missing police report.

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

My own Lindbergh baby,
you might say. Top page.

A ballistics report,
dated yesterday?

The bullet that was fired at me?

Sharp sent it over.

Now take a gander at the one
below it, the one from Malcolm Jarvis.

The bullets match!
Like Siamese twins.

Always hated not being
able to recover that gun.

Sam said that he threw the gun into
the ocean at the Santa Monica Pier.

He only told that
to us. Not the press.

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

not the specific location.

We were hoping to find it and didn't
want anybody else getting there first.

Yes, but somebody
did get there first.

Somebody must've followed Sam to the
pier and then fished it out of the water.

And that same somebody took a
crack at you with that same gun.

After 30 years.

Kind of weird.

You know, Lieutenant,

I have been concentrating on who actually
would have benefited from Jarvis's death,

but the killer could've believed that he
or she would benefit but could be wrong.

- That was my theory about the tootsie.
- Tootsie?

Jarvis's secretary.
Thelma Vante.

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

Yes, I think he was.

You think he was? Weren't
you his private secretary?

Yes. Yes, he was insured.

What company? The Standard
Life Insurance Company.

I see. And for how
much? I don't know.

How would you know what
company but not how much?

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

Assuming that she was
the beneficiary? On the nose.

But Jarvis checked out a
family man through and through.

And one that left his
family well-provided for.

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

Very. Like the perfect
setup for suicide.

But you still
didn't believe Sam.

The jury didn't believe him.

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

Seems like it fits your
qualifications though.

How's Sam? Sitting
in his rocker again.

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

Do I look threatening?
You look very official.

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

Keep it down in there, you
little... dickens. My grandchildren.

Uh, Thelma, I've just come from a
long chat with Lieutenant Webb...

and very honestly,
he believes...

that you knew more about
Jarvis's insurance policy...

than you told at the time.

He thinks you were trying to
cover up your motive for murder.

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

I am not going to
jail, not for anybody.

I'm not talking until
we lose the cop.

I'm also Sam Wilson's son. That
supposed to make me feel better?

Thelma, you have nothing to worry
about if you'll just tell us the truth.

The statute of limitations
on blackmail has passed.

What's that mean? That I can't
be tried for something I did...

May have done 30 years ago?

Well, not for blackmail. There is
no statute of limitations for murder.

Whoa! Now I didn't kill anybody.

But you did blackmail
the Jarvises?

- Somebody tell you something?
- No.

But I imagine, as a secretary, you
didn't get paid very much money,

and after what you told
me about your husband,

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

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

Either you tell us who you
blackmailed, here, off the record,

or I take you in and
book you for murder.

Jarvis did mention
suicide once or twice.

I just put two and two together
and came up with a profit. That's all.

Then you did know about his
change in the insurance policy.

Of course I knew.

And when I read your father's
story in the newspapers,

I figured he-he was telling the truth.
Well, then why didn't you tell the truth?

I was Jarvis’s
private secretary.

There was no job for
me when he was dead.

And the cops, they certainly weren't
going to make it worth my while.

So you let my father go to jail for 30
years even though you knew he was innocent?

Your father knew he was taking a
risk when he grabbed that 10,000 bucks.

He got cash; the
Jarvises got cash.

I got zip.

Until somebody paid
you to keep quiet.

It was Mrs. Jarvis, wasn't it, so they
could collect the insurance money?

- Oh, not Mrs. Jarvis—Sidney.
- He tell you that?

Well, Mrs. Jarvis was in no condition
to make payments from a rest home.

Well, after a while,

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

So I suppose he told you that
if you went to the authorities...

that you would go
to jail for blackmail.

After your last visit,
I called Sidney...

to try to get some
more fees out of him,

and he sang the same
tune all over again.

After crying poorhouse
didn't work, that is.

Can you believe
the nerve of that guy?

Let's hurry, Jessica.

I can't wait to get home to tell Pop
finally we can prove it was suicide.

Something still bothers me, Rod.

If Jarvis did kill himself, who
fired his gun at me and why?

Well, Sidney. He was afraid you'd
blow the lid off their insurance money.

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

Besides, why take an action that would
only prove that we were on the right track?

It's the same gun all right.

Whoever fired the shot had something else
to hide besides the truth of Sam's story.

But using the same gun, it just seems so
stupid to attract that kind of attention.

Or very smart.

Oh, yes, Rod.

Smart.

Thelma told us you
paid her off to keep quiet.

The gifts of money
that I gave a woman...

that I felt sorry
for proved nothing.

No, Mr. Jarvis,

but the gun matching
these bullets will,

which I imagine the police
will find if they search the house.

And you expect a court to
issue a search warrant for a gun...

thrown from the Santa
Monica Pier 30 years ago?

How did you know
where Sam threw the gun?

I—suppose I read
it in the newspaper.

But it was never
reported anywhere.

Well, then, Sam must have
told me. No, Sidney, I didn't.

There was no way
for you to know,

unless you followed Sam
to the pier to retrieve it.

All right, Mrs. Fletcher.
You have got it all figured out.

For 30 years,

I have been hiding
a terrible secret.

I killed my father.

I followed Sam to the pier,

down below to the beach.

A t one point, you
almost saw me.

I watched you throw the—
The gun into the water.

The tide was out. I could hear
it landed in the shallow water.

Fortunately for
me, you left quickly.

I waded in and I got the gun.

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

But, why, Sidney?
Your own father?

Yes, my own father, for a
quarter of a million dollars.

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

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

and you would've had no reason
to kill him. What are you saying?

Sidney had another
reason for killing his father?

No. Mr. Jarvis, you didn't
kill your father at all, did you?

Aren’t you really covering
up for your mother?

Don't be ridiculous.

My mother was at the
beach house all weekend.

She didn't arrive until
well after the death.

But you yourself said, Jessica,

that she couldn't have climbed
onto the balcony to shoot at you.

We were working under a
couple of incorrect assumptions.

First, that whoever fired the
gun was also Jarvis’s killer.

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

But what else? Well, it was
designed to misdirect us.

You knew we suspected your mother
from the phone call you got from Thelma.

What better way to misdirect us than
to provide a new, interrelated crime...

for which your mother
had a perfect alibi.

She was in her wheelchair in a
rest home. You meant to miss me.

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

You were going to take the
blame yourself if necessary.

But, Jessica, why would Mrs.
Jarvis wanna kill her husband?

I don't think that she meant to.

We jumped to another
incorrect conclusion.

That if Jarvis’s death wasn't
suicide, it had to be murder.

What other possibility could
there be? Accidental death.

That is absurd. I
killed my father.

And recovered the
gun to make sure...

that any incriminating
fingerprints wouldn't be found?

Yes, just as I said.

But any prints on the
handle of the gun...

would have been smudged
when Sam picked it up.

- So the only reason
to worry about the

prints— - Would be if
they were on the barrel.

A killer would have no
reason to handle the barrel,

but somebody trying to
take the gun away would.

Sidney, is this true?

Thelma said that your mother
didn't have the guts to murder anyone.

Now I don't believe that the woman
that I saw in the Fairfield Rest Home...

could have killed her
husband intentionally.

Father thought he
planned it all so well.

Mother and I...

were both going to spend the
weekend at the beach house.

Father was going
to stay in town, work.

We had just left...

when Mother realized that she'd
forgotten a book in the library.

We drove to the back entrance.
Mother went in to get the book.

He— He told her to go away,

that, uh, there wasn't any more
money, all was left was the insurance.

Your mother must've
realized what he was planning.

She tried to grab
the gun from him,

but in the struggle—

She came running
out to the car to get me.

It was an accident,

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

You sent her to the beach house,
so that at least she'd have an alibi.

Her maid was already there.
She could vouch for her arrival.

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

- I went into the library— -
You saw me? You were there?

I saw you get the
gun and the money.

And then Father's
plan became clear.

You knew!

You knew Pop was innocent,
and you let him take the rap.

I thought it would be
best for everybody.

The police would've
thought it was a burglary,

and you would've got the money,
Sam, just like Father planned.

I tried to protect you.

By having your mother put pressure
on the D.A. to close the case quickly.

We used to be...
very influential.

But it backfired when Thelma figured out
what was going on and blackmailed you.

At that point,

I had to choose between...

Sam...

and Mother.

You understand, don't
you, Sam? How can he?

You've wasted
30 years of his life.

Thirty years of an innocent
man's life and the lives of his family.

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

just as if you were
the judge and the jury.

How could you expect
him to forgive you?

Let's go home, Georgia.

It's over. I know.

I'll put in a call to
the D.A. No, Roddy.

Pop, he's gotta prosecute. Who?

An old lady whose guilt
has eaten her away?

Mrs. Jarvis has already paid for
whatever crime she may have committed.

But what about Sidney? He was
an accessory. He withheld evidence.

He was just trying to protect his
mother, like you tried to protect me.

We've all suffered
enough, Roddy.

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

I want to enjoy my life
with this beautiful woman...

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

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

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

Justice has to be served.

Justice is always
imperfect, Rod.

Besides, sometimes
there's a difference...

between serving the ideal of
justice and doing what's best.

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

Bless you and thank you. I
don't know how to thank you.

Just be happy.

We will be.

I am.