Original subtitles

Hello? Is anyone there?

I'll tell you the whole story.

One thing's for sure. It's gonna shake this town right down to the ground.

I strongly suggest you not write that book.

You left out the "Or else."

Something terribly wrong happened here 30 years ago.

The truth is rarely popular. Sometimes it's downright dangerous.

Then we'll just have to stop him, won't we?

Would someone like to tell me what all of this Mad Maggie business is all about?

The inquest ruled it accidental but there's always been some doubt.

This isn't even about us anymore. It's about you and your father.

Owen Cooper was killed by a shotgun blast at point-blank range.

Mrs. Fletcher... Mrs. Fletcher...

Oh, I'm sorry, Arnold. I guess it's getting to be that time.

I'm afraid so. Yeah. Still looking for that perfect poison?

Oh, yes. I know it's here somewhere.

Deadly, exotic. Virtually impossible to detect.

Until the murderer gets caught on the last page.

Oh, you've been reading my books.

I'll just gather my stuff together.

Oh, no hurry. I just wanted you to know that I'm leaving.

Just be sure and lock up when you're finished.

Oh, fine. Thank you, Arnold. I'll do that.

Good night, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, good night, Arnold.

See you tomorrow, Arnold.

Randy Sloan? Oh, my goodness. You surprised me.

Mrs. Fletcher. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.

Oh, that's quite all right. I just didn't know that anyone was here.

I didn't know that you were back in Cabot Cove.

Oh, you're a fine friend. Not even telephoning your favorite teacher?

I just got in this afternoon. I meant to call,

but I stopped off here first. I got so lost in these old files,

I guess I just got oblivious to everything.

Same old Randy. So what brings you back?

Last I heard, you were working on a Portland newspaper...

Portland Gazette. Still am. But I'm chasing a story of my own right now.

Oh! What's the story about?

Well, I tell you what, it's getting kind of late.

How about if I fill you in on everything over breakfast? My treat.

Deal. Be sure to bring your clips.

I want to know what you've been up to since you left high school.

Here you go.

This stuff is strong enough to jump start your heart.

Sally, I am just going to have pigs in a blanket.

Give me just a minute, Mrs. Hanson. I will be right back to take your order.

If I don't get a coffee fix over to Sam Talbot right away,

you are going to hear yelling and screaming like you have never heard before.

Come on, Sally. How about my refill?

Hi, Sally.

Randy, hi! I didn't know you were back in town.

I just got in yesterday. Listen, what time do you get off work?

Me? 6:00. Why?

I have to see you. 6:00 could be fine.

Well, I don't have...

Please. I do have to see you.

I'm sorry, Randy, but I have plans.

And for this one I went undercover at a company engaged in mail fraud.

The story got me three death threats,

and an award for best investigative story of the year.

That is wonderful. You know, Randy,

I can't tell you how proud I am of you.

You know, back in high school, I always knew you had talent,

but it takes more than that to become a good reporter.

It takes determination, persistence, ingenuity...

How about luck?

Oh, I don't think that luck has anything to do with that.

And knowing your work as I do...

More coffee, Mrs. Fletcher?

Oh, yes! Thank you.

Sally, I really do have to talk to you.

I already said no.

6:00. After you're finished work.

I'm sorry but I'm working two jobs, and with school at night,

I really don't have time for anything else.

So, you mentioned last night that you'd tell me today

about why you've come back to Cabot Cove.

A story of your own, you said?

Not just a story. A book.

Oh, that's wonderful. What's it about?

Mad Maggie.

You mean, Margaret Babbington?

Only the most famous scandal this little town ever saw.

That's over 30 years ago.

Good stories never die.

Oh! That's why you were digging through all those old town records last night.

Births, deaths, land deeds, business transactions.

I want to know everything.

Details, details, details, as befits the bloodiest killing in Cabot Cove history.

Yes, but why? I mean, that story must've been gone over a hundred times.

As I recall, there was nothing extraordinary about it.

I mean, there's no mystery about who did it.

Let's just say I've dug up a new angle on it.

Oh? Like what?

Not yet. I still have a few more things I have to confirm.

But once I have all the facts in place, I'll tell you the whole story.

One thing's for sure. It's gonna shake this town right down to the ground.

Well, I've only seen strychnine poisoning a couple of times, Jess.

But I have heard that convulsions will sometimes leave the corpse

with a kind of grimace on the face.

Mrs. Fletcher!

Oh! Hi, Sheriff. Come on in. We're in the dining room.

Doc.

Sheriff. Nice day.

Says you.

Oh! You have a problem?

I've got some newspaper guy from Portland driving me crazy.

He wants to dig into all my old files.

Randall Sloan.

Yeah. How did you...

Never mind. So listen.

Would someone like to tell me what all of this Mad Maggie business is all about?

Well, tragedy, mostly.

Years ago, Margaret Babbington

and her cousin, Emily Weymouth, and their fiancés,

Owen Cooper and George Latimer, went hunting in the woods somewhere up north.

Margaret and Owen drifted away from the other

two, and there was some sort of a quarrel.

Owen Cooper was killed by a shotgun blast at point-blank range.

The inquest ruled it accidental but there's always been some doubt.

Now, the Babbington family has been rather well known

in Cabot Cove for some years.

So naturally the newspapers made a big thing of it.

It was really very sad. I mean, Owen's death undid Margaret completely.

She was judged insane, committed to a mental institution,

and died a short time later.

It sounds like an open-and-shut case to me.

So why is this guy digging so hot and heavy into it after 30 years?

And with construction costs pegged so low we'll get the whole thing,

the wharf, the restaurant and six stores up for two million three.

Then we just nudge the rents up by eight percent every two years.

Well, what do you think, George?

I guess it sounds okay.

You guess? We'll be doing nothing but counting money.

Okay, let me take another look at the numbers, and I'll get back to you tomorrow.

Good. I'll talk to you then.

You know, you could have at least paid some attention.

What for?

You didn't need me. You had them.

Jumping through hoops as always.

I thought that was all over. I'm not saying Sally's not a nice girl,

but she's not right for you.

You had no business starting up with her in the first place.

Oh, wait a minute...

I know, you think you're in love. We've had this conversation.

But you got to be reasonable about these things.

Come on, Neal. Lots of other girls in Cabot Cove, and from the right families, too.

Janet Weymouth, for example. Why don't you start taking her out?

'Cause I've never been big on frostbite.

Well, we need more information.

Maybe we can find out something over here at the farmers' sale.

Oh! Isn't that Janet Weymouth?

Oh! Hi, Janet. How are you?

I'm fine. And how's your mother?

Not so good, I'm afraid. She doesn't even go out of the house.

It's not good.

I know. She hardly sees anyone anymore.

And now that I have my own apartment in town,

practically the only time we see each other

is when we have dinner on Thursday nights.

She asked about you the other day, Mrs. Fletcher.

If you could find some time to stop by...

I'd love to do that.

And as long as I'm pushing, about the luncheon this afternoon?

Oh, I haven't forgotten. I'm very much in favor of anything

to get that community center built. I'll be there.

Great. I'll see you later.

Another fund raiser?

Yes!

Well, I'm not going. I'll spend money, I know it.

I can just feel the cash sliding out of my wallet now.

Hello?

Yes, that's the one. Randall Sloan.

He's asked to see me.

No, I didn't say anything.

Tell me, my dear, after all this time,

why does he want to talk to me about Maggie?

Then we'll just have to stop him, won't we?

Hello, Mother. I see you're up and around.

There's much to be done.

Don't I know it. There never seems to be enough time.

What was that about Randall Sloan?

Do you know him?

We went to high school together. He was a year ahead of me. Why?

What kind of a young man is he?

Well, I really didn't know him very well. He was always into books, studying.

After he graduated, I heard he went to Portland and became a newspaper reporter.

Why all the sudden interest in Randall Sloan?

It's nothing important.

I take it you've finished preparations for the luncheon?

All taken care of.

You are coming, aren't you?

I'm sorry, Janet. I'm really not up to it.

They'll be disappointed.

We must all learn to live with disappointment, Janet.

It's an imperfect world. Sometimes a considerably imperfect world.

Are there any more contributions for the building fund?

You're a true friend, Sara. Thank you.

So, how was lunch?

Oh, it was very nice. Thanks.

Good. 'Cause it's going to cost you.

Oh, I know. It's already done that.

Not that I'm complaining, mind you, I'm just...

Complaining. I know.

Well, yes. Complaining. That puts it nicely.

Not that I haven't always wanted an antique stuffed moose head,

but after paying all that money,

you'd think the least they could do is throw in the rest of the moose.

Seth, it's for a good cause.

Sally, I forgot to ask you at breakfast time.

How is your night school going?

Oh, fine. My marks are up, and I'm saving money from the two jobs I'm working.

So, another semester and I'll be able to go back to college.

The oldest living junior in the state of Maine.

Good for you.

But I'm going to do it and I'm going to make some kind of life for myself.

If you'll excuse me.

If you have any complaints about lunch, you'll have to see the manager.

Come on, Sally, I just want to talk.

Sorry, Neal, I'm all talked out.

All I'm asking is that you be patient.

I'm going to work things out. I know you don't believe it but...

I'm gonna do it. I promise.

It seems to me I've heard this before.

You know, sometimes I think this isn't even about us anymore,

it's about you and your father.

And which of you gets to decide what happens to my life.

That's not fair. Maybe not.

But talk is cheap, Neal. And I have to get on with my life.

The alternative is just too painful.

Ladies, gentlemen. First of all, thank you for coming.

The checks have been added, and combined with the seed money donated by my mother,

Emily Weymouth, well, let's just say that at this moment

the new Cabot Cove community center is at last a reality.

Folks, folks. We regret that Emily couldn't be with us today,

but on behalf of the building commission I'm proud to announce

that the new building will be named the Emily Weymouth Center.

Thank you, Mr. Latimer. That's very thoughtful.

I'm sure my mother will be pleased.

The blind auction winners can pick up their new items Friday at the town hall.

And don't forget to collect your door prizes on the way out.

Thank you again.

Randall! Hi.

Janet Weymouth.

Of course. You haven't changed a bit since high school.

Just ten years older, that's all.

I'd heard you were in town.

Are you covering the fund raiser?

No. Not exactly. I'm...

I'm researching a book. I'm writing about the Margaret Babbington case.

Margaret Babbington? Why on earth would you be interested in something

that happened so long ago?

I'm sorry. I have to go.

Mr. Sloan, hi! Hi there. I'm George Latimer.

I couldn't help overhearing about your book.

Margaret Babbington was one of my closest friends.

I've done my homework, Mr. Latimer. I know that.

30 years ago, the media turned it into a circus.

Now, this book of yours is going to make it circus time all over again.

Now, is there anything I can say to talk you out of writing it?

No. I'm afraid not.

I don't get it. What's so important about a 30-year-old tragedy?

Nothing, if it was only a question of going over old territory.

But I've got a whole new slant.

And once I have all the pieces in place,

it is going to knock Cabot Cove on its ear.

I'm on the trail of something that no one else knows, except maybe you.

I strongly suggest you not write that book.

You left out the "Or else."

You're making a big mistake. You're buying more trouble than you can handle.

Very serious trouble.

Is that a threat?

It's more than a threat. It's a promise.

I can wait, if you'd like.

Oh, no, thank you, Seth. I'll be fine.

Well, you can tell me what you find. From the look of it, it must be some place.

Have you ever been inside?

Oh, hardly anyone ever goes in there now. She wants it that way.

Oh, Emily. I wish you could have been there.

You know, this new community center is going to mean so much to the young people.

Oh, I'm glad.

But you will be there for the ground breaking ceremony?

No, no. I don't think so.

I'm sure Janet will tell me all about it.

She keeps me up to date on most of the news from town.

Then I take it you know about...

Randall Sloan? Yes.

He's a former student of yours, isn't he?

Yes. One that I'm very proud of.

I know that he looks up to you. Respects you.

So perhaps you might have some influence with him.

About what?

I was hoping that you might be able to persuade him not to write this book of his.

Oh, Emily, I'm afraid I can't do that.

Jessica, Margaret Babbington wasn't just my cousin, she was my very best friend.

I loved her dearly. The incident was tragedy enough,

and then all those hideous front page stories and TV cameras

poking everywhere.

Hasn't poor Margaret suffered enough?

This book will drag her memory through that all over again.

Why would anyone want to do that?

It serves no useful purpose.

Emily, I've known Randy for over 10 years.

He's very determined, stubborn, obsessed with finding the truth.

He's a born reporter, but I don't believe he has a malicious bone in his body.

Then why?

All I know is that he wouldn't be doing this

unless there was something very important at stake.

You're assuming the worst, but Emily, isn't

it possible that he might be onto something

that could clear Margaret's name?

No. No good ever came out of what happened that day.

No good ever will.

Perhaps if you sat down with Randy, Emily,

and you could talk about all of this.

He's been asking to see me, but I've refused.

I've gotten quite used to being alone.

I don't feel comfortable with visitors.

In fact, I never see anyone anymore, except Janet.

Oh? I thought I saw George Latimer leaving just as I arrived.

Oh! Yes. George...

He just came to talk about the fund raising.

George was a good friend of Margaret's, too, wasn't he?

Yes. Margaret...

George, Owen, we were all so close.

You're right, Jessica. Perhaps I should see this young man after all.

How's it going?

Just fine, Arnold. Thanks.

You know, everyone in town is talking about you and your book.

Even money says it's gonna be a best seller.

Well, I think I should write it first, and then we'll see.

Something else, Arnold?

You know, I was just remembering how we would take

all those writing classes together, you know.

We'd always share notes and talk about how we were both going to make it big time.

And you went off to Portland to become a hotshot reporter while I...

Well...

You know... Arnold.

We earn our big breaks. This is mine. Yours will come.

Huh?

Yeah.

Hello, Arnold.

Hello, Mrs. Fletcher.

Is something wrong?

Not a thing, Mrs. Fletcher. Not an ever-loving thing.

Hello, Randy.

Hi, Mrs. Fletcher. Why didn't you tell me that writing a book was this tough?

I know just how you feel.

Is everything else all right?

Yeah. No. I don't know.

Well, I guess that just about covers it.

It's just... This hasn't been much of a homecoming.

I mean, everyone's either mad at me or won't talk to me,

and now Arnold's got his nose out of joint

because I won't let him co-write the book with me.

Well, I'm sure you realize how many feathers you're ruffling in town

with your book.

Yeah, I know. But that doesn't bother me.

I don't care how many people line up against me.

Mrs. Fletcher, you're the best teacher I ever had.

And the most important thing that you ever taught me

is that once you uncover a truth that's been hidden away,

you have to keep chasing it, no matter what.

Something terribly wrong happened here 30 years ago, and I've almost got it nailed.

Just a few more pieces and I've got it all tied up.

Randy, just remember. The truth is rarely popular.

In fact, sometimes it's downright dangerous.

Be fair, be accurate, and above all, be careful.

Neal. What can I do for you?

Well, you could ask me in, for starters.

Thanks. Forget it.

Please. No phony "Nice to see you," okay?

I don't like you, you don't like me.

Not in grade school, not in high school, not now.

What do you want?

I heard about the argument you had with my father.

I came to try to smooth things out. I'm sorry if he came on too strong.

And I'd like to ask you to think about what he said and reconsider.

Reconsider?

Nothing good's going to come of this book, Randall.

You're only going to make a lot of enemies, a lot of powerful enemies.

Nothing ever changes, does it? All grown up

and still running errands for your father.

I'm trying to do you a favor, but you're too pigheaded to see it.

If you're smart, you'll get on the next plane and go back to Portland,

because after that all bets are off.

That suits me right down to the ground, Neal.

That's funny. The door's open. Randy said he'd lock up when he finished last night.

Well, he told me I should meet him here first thing.

Maybe he got here early.

Maybe he just forgot to lock up.

Randy? You here?

I just heard. Oh, my Lord! How did this happen?

Well, that's what we're trying to find out.

They found him like that a half an hour ago.

What was the cause of death?

Blows to the head, by the look of it.

I'd say with a blunt instrument.

Well, I better see what's taking the coroner so long.

You know, Randy had a big, heavy paperweight. I saw it here the other day.

Andy, check around for a large paperweight. See if you guys can find it.

Are you all right, Sally?

I'm okay, I guess.

Oh, it's very upsetting.

We just came in, and there he was.

Yeah, I know. You just come in to open up, right, Arnold?

What about you, Sally? Why were you here so early?

Randy had been pestering me to see him.

I agreed, and he told me to meet him here at the library.

What did he want to see you about?

I don't know. He was always coming on to me, asking personal questions.

I thought it was just another way for a guy to come on to a girl.

Early morning in a public library hardly seems

the place for romantic overtures.

I mean, there must have been some other reason.

So, Arnold, I wanna bother you, now.

You said you left last night at seven as usual, and the deceased was still alive?

Yeah. That's right. Randy had a habit of working at odd hours,

so I just asked him to lock up.

Where'd you go after you left?

Wait. You don't think I had anything to do with this, do you?

Right now, I'm asking questions. Where did you go?

Well, I went home. Alone, as usual.

But look, I couldn't have done it. Randy was my friend, and I didn't have a reason.

That's curious, you know. Randy's research notes don't seem to be here.

That's impossible. Randy always kept everything with him

in that briefcase he always carried around.

Well, that's not here, either.

Any idea what might have been in those notes?

Well, I don't know. I assume it had something to do with his book.

Which give us two possibilities.

Someone who wanted to stop that book from being written,

or write it himself.

Sheriff! Take a look at this key.

I think you ought to see this.

I wanna see if you can lift some prints off of it.

I'll try, Sheriff, but it's pretty smudged from where he was laying on it.

Well, try anyway.

Arnold, is this a library key?

Oh, no. I've never seen that key before.

I wonder what it opens.

Well, assuming it fell out of the victim's pocket, it might be his room key.

Well, yes. That is an obvious assumption.

Well, there's one way to find out. Let's get it dusted.

They weren't able to find any prints on this, but maybe we'll get lucky.

No.

Stand back, Mrs. F.

Hold it right there!

Neal?

Well, Mrs. F, you were wondering what happened to those research notes,

I think we just found the link.

Oh, Sally...

I'm sorry for coming over here like this without calling first,

but I'm really worried, Mrs. Fletcher, and I need your help.

Oh, come inside, dear.

The Sheriff's trying to find evidence to tie Neal to Randy's murder.

You know, Neal and I, we've had our ups and downs, but I love him,

and I know he could never hurt anyone.

Please, Mrs. Fletcher. Isn't there anything we can do?

Well, we can certainly try. Not only for you and Neal but also for Randy.

Sit down.

You know when Randy was my student,

I always encouraged him to follow the truth,

but I'm afraid I have reason to believe that

the truth that he found is what killed him.

But Randy wasn't only my student, he was my friend,

and something will be done about it.

But where do we start?

With you. Now, you said that he wanted to see

and talk to you about some personal things.

What kind of personal things?

Nothing important. Just stuff about me growing up in Portland.

And I didn't want to talk about it. Not with Randy or anyone else.

It's not that interesting growing up in an orphanage, not that special, either.

The first time in my life I ever remember being happy was when I was adopted

by the Bates. And I moved here to Cabot Cove when I was 10.

Did he ask you anything particular?

Not really.

He just wanted to know everything about my early days in Portland

and to take a look at some my personal stuff.

Papers, pictures, things like that.

Sally, could you bring some of those personal papers here to me?

I take it the bail money arrived in time?

It did. Thanks.

Are you going to tell me why you were searching that guy's room?

I think I have a pretty good idea.

You were trying to protect me, weren't you?

No.

Neal, all these years you've never lied to me.

All right. Okay. Yes.

Look, I didn't know what kind of secrets Randy dug up for that book of his

but I didn't want it to hurt you.

You were willing to go to jail to protect me?

I never told you the full story of what happened that day, 30 years ago.

I guess it's about time I did.

You don't have to, Dad.

No, no, no. I want to.

We were all very close.

Emily, Margaret and Owen and me.

We used to go everywhere together, do everything together.

Just the four of us.

One afternoon we were out in the woods, north of town, bird hunting.

We'd become separated. I went off to find Margaret and Owen.

I didn't see them at first but I could hear voices raised in anger.

When I finally located them I made the mistake of thinking it was

j just another lovers' quarrel. I didn't want to intrude.

I heard Owen insisting that their relationship was over.

Then something started to happen to Margaret.

A craziness I'd never seen before.

She was begging him not to leave her.

Then suddenly I saw her love turn to hatred and then to fury.

She picked up Owen's shotgun.

Owen!

No!

The horror of what she'd done completely unhinged her.

By the time I got her back to Emily, she was gone.

She'd retreated into some dark corner of her mind,

she never came out again.

I lied at the inquest. I said it was an accident, that she had been loading the gun

when it went off.

Margaret was totally insane by that time, not even able to stand trial.

It was better left that way.

I tried to get Randall Sloan to forget about his book,

because I didn't want the memory

of a dear friend dragged through the dirt again.

That is the truth. All of it.

I didn't have anything to do with Owen Cooper's death 30 years ago,

and I didn't have anything to do with Sloan's death now.

All right, Jess, what is it? I can practically see the wheels turning.

Listen, Seth, you said yourself that there was always talk

that Margaret Babbington's accident was more than that,

that she killed Owen in a lovers' argument.

Yes, I've heard that all along. Nothing new there.

Except... Except that the one question that she was never able to answer was why?

What would prompt a woman to kill the man that she loved?

Maybe he was trying to break up with her.

Perhaps, but she'd gone through other relationships.

No, there was something different at work here,

some reason that made her react with anger and fear.

Good pie, Jess.

Operator.

Yes, Operator, I want a phone number in Portland.

It's the Cumberland County Sanitarium, please.

Administration, Bailey.

Hello, Mr. Bailey, my name is Jessica Fletcher and...

J.B. Fletcher? The writer from Cabot Cove?

Yes.

Well, uh, what can I do for you?

I was wondering if you could possibly check

the Sanitarium's records for, say, 30 years back.

A Margaret Babbington died while she was a patient there.

Could you tell me what was the cause of death?

I will check. We just put all those records on microfilm. Two seconds.

Seth!

Ah!

Yes, thank you very much, Mr. Bailey,

you've been very helpful.

So?

Seth, Margaret Babbington died in childbirth.

There was a baby. That's what Randy found out. That's why he was killed.

Good heavens, do you know what this means?

You knew, didn't you, Emily? You were

Margaret's cousin as well as her best friend.

You knew she was pregnant, you knew that Owen Cooper was the father,

you knew that's what they were fighting about,

and you knew that's why Margaret killed him.

And you also knew that Margaret died in the sanitarium in childbirth.

And you kept that a secret, too.

Yes. It was an act of kindness and compassion.

I loved Margaret.

I didn't want her child to live with the stigma of her mother's crime.

So I made sure that the record of birth was kept secret.

Surely you... You can't think that I killed him?

You said that Randy wanted to see you,

and he came to the house, didn't he?

Yes, he came on the same night that he was murdered.

I didn't want that book written.

And I couldn't bear the thought of Margaret's memory being dragged

through all that dirt all over again.

I offered him a check of $100,000

if he would just go away and forget the whole thing.

But he refused.

I hated him for that. But I didn't kill him.

You do believe me, don't you?

As it happens, Emily, yes, yes, I do believe you.

From what I saw at the scene, whoever it was who killed Randy

was quick, and athletic, and fairly strong.

All that pain, all those lies,

now it seems they've all come home to roost.

I'm afraid I can't offer you any milk today.

Janet forgot to bring some when she stopped by on Thursday.

Thursday? Oh, no matter, Emily. I'm afraid I won't be able to stay for tea today.

There's somebody that I have to see.

Hi, Mrs. Fletcher.

What are you doing here?

Waiting for you.

Me? Why?

Because I know now who killed Randy Sloan.

You don't mean me?

Come on, why would I...

Because of the secret that Randy discovered during his research.

I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about, so if you don't mind...

Randy went to see your mother the night that he was murdered.

On Thursday night, the same night that you stop by her house for dinner each week.

$100,000 sure is a lot of money.

But I'm afraid there's no deal.

That's probably more money than you've ever seen

at one time in your entire life.

You're a very foolish young man.

You're probably right, but that doesn't change anything.

Something terribly wrong happened here,

and I'm going to make sure that it's made right.

Margaret Babbington was pregnant when she was committed to that sanitarium.

The child was put up for adoption, and all the records were sealed.

Well, I've cut through all those sealed records and I know who that child is.

Who knows this besides you?

No one. I haven't told anyone yet.

Good. And I don't want you to. Here, take this.

And I'll double it, $200,000.

300,000.

Mrs. Weymouth, you don't have enough money.

If you'll excuse me.

All right, so I overheard a conversation

between Randy and my mother. So what?

This book of Randy's had nothing to do with me.

I hardly knew Randy, I had no reason to kill him.

I think you had a very good reason.

Look, Mrs. Fletcher, this conversation is getting a little tiresome.

Whatever it is you think you've come up with,

you'll never be able to prove anything, anyway.

I think I can.

May I?

This is your apartment and your key.

This key was found under Randy's body.

It could only have accidentally been dropped there by his killer.

After overhearing Randy's conversation with your mother,

you followed him back here to the library, didn't you?

Yes, I just... I just wanted to talk some sense into him. But he wouldn't listen.

Every dime I have is from the Babbington side of the family.

If word got out that Margaret had a child, we'd have lost the entire inheritance.

We'd be ruined. I offered him everything, anything.

But he refused.

Yes.

And then?

And then I...

And then I...

It was as if I'd lost touch with reality. My head was swimming.

All I could feel was a terrible hatred for him

and for what he was doing to me and to my family.

I didn't know what I was doing.

I just knew I was terrified of losing everything

and I couldn't let that happen. I just couldn't.

And that was the secret that Randy discovered.

That you were Margaret Babbington's daughter,

and thus inherited her entire estate.

Your story was going to be the centerpiece of his book.

I still can't believe it. I mean, all that land...

And the estate, it must be worth over a million dollars.

Or more like three. No more doing two jobs to go to night school, either.

I imagine that you and Neal have some catching up to do.

Oh, but his father...

Has come a long way in a very short time. Run along.

That looks like one Cabot Cove romance that will be resuming.

Yes, it's funny, you know. When Randy was my student,

I taught him that whatever the literary establishment may think,

the best stories always have happy endings.

And I think he got it.

Oh, yeah.