Original subtitles

The negatives.

Let me see the rest of the money.

The only thing I hate worse than a smartass PI

is an unsolved murder on my turf.

I think I know what this is all about.

My God, that's... It's Lee Harvey Oswald.

People have been beaten, robbed, their rooms searched,

and all of it's somehow connected

to the assassination of President Kennedy.

I expect you to find those negatives.

You intend to blackmail Mr. Angelini with them, don't you?

Come on, Jessica, now let me have them.

No!

REPORTER ON TV: As of this evening,

Dallas police still have not issued a statement about the possible motive

of nightclub owner Jack Ruby who killed Mr. Oswald earlier today on national TV.

Eyewitnesses, Secret Service officials and police continue to disagree

on the number of shots fired in Dealey Plaza two days ago

in the assassination of President John F. Kennedy.

However, it is believed that at least two bullets were fired

from the upper story window in the Texas Book Depository.

Mr. Oswald was an employee of the Book Depository.

A nine-millimeter rifle with a telescopic sight

is believed to be the weapon used by Lee Harvey Oswald.

Oswald was being transferred to another jail

when Ruby, apparently known to local police,

pushed past reporters and law officers

and fired the shot that proved fatal to Oswald.

You know something? Now we're never gonna learn the truth.

Okay, buddy, the negatives.

This was supposed to happen about an hour from now.

Right, over by the turnpike. I changed my mind.

Let me see the rest of the money.

As soon as I get a good look at the negatives.

Come on. Come on.

McCAFFREY: Enjoy your stay, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, and I'll see you this evening.

I signed up for your mystery seminar.

Oh, that's wonderful. I hope you enjoy it.

Good morning. You have one message.

Aw, Garrett, come on.

Just when I'm beginning to think you're not all bad.

Till 3:00 a.m. I waited for you. You knew the deal.

The whole 2,500, plus the vig. So now what can I do?

I gotta send Ernie and Dave to take it outta your kneecaps.

Have a nice day, booby.

Bernie, you old chiseler.

Tuesday, 9:23 a.m. So you didn't stiff me after all.

Yeah, Arthur Mazzolo.

Yo, Artie. Charlie.

You can call off your gorillas now.

You got my money?

I'm gonna have your money for you in a couple of days.

All of it? All of it.

Yeah? Yeah.

Every last penny.

That's good, Charlie, because I don't like to hurt my friends.

Santo, I think you're worrying too much.

Someone has to, Michael.

All these years. If those things still existed,

you don't think you'd have heard from somebody?

The FBI? Someone trying to sell them to you?

And what if you're wrong?

If they tie me in to the late Bernard Callan,

you don't think your life is over, along with mine?

Remains and personal effects of Bernard Philip Callan

tentatively indicate he's your missing father.

Where in the hell's Coral City?

It's, uh...

Uh, a few miles north of Miami.

Listen, thanks for getting a postponement on the Matthews case.

How did the Chief take it?

He took it.

You okay?

I will be,

once I find out what happened to my father.

Laura, there could be some surprises.

Hal, I told you, all I care about is finding out the truth.

I mean, why a perfectly decent man

would just disappear off the face of the earth

and turn up 30 years later in a drain pipe?

I didn't mean to upset you.

Thanks for caring.

At least now I know he didn't just abandon me.

Bye.

Bad.

You should've moved your knight to his queen-seven.

You always this good at making first impressions, Mr. Garrett?

It's a gift.

Listen, you know that skeleton you found, Bernie Callan?

Well, I'm here to claim 3,000 of the, quote, $10,000 bucks

that the paper said was in his wallet.

Really?

Yeah, with interest.

Well, let me show you something else we found in his wallet.

"Charles Garrett, Private Investigation." Is that you?

Uh... Yeah.

Sit down, Mr. Garrett. I'd like you to tell me everything you know

about the late Bernard Philip Callan.

Look, Chief, I'm on a 1:00 plane back to Chicago, and...

Forget it.

You see, since that story appeared in the newspapers,

forensics found a nick in Mr. Callan's spine.

It was the seventh vertebra, to be exact.

Yeah, so? Well, it made me curious,

so I went back out to the excavation site and I did a little digging,

and I found a .45-caliber bullet.

Wait a minute, you're saying Bernie was murdered?

It looks that way. Which means that anything found on his person

is now evidence in a capital case,

which means that you have to wait for your money.

Uh, look, Chief...

Let me tell you something, Mr. Garrett.

The only thing I hate worse than a smartass PI

is an unsolved murder on my turf,

especially an old one where the trail is like ice.

But the good news is, you're warming it up for me.

Yeah, well...

You know, if I were you, Mr. Garrett,

I'd get busy documenting my whereabouts for late 1963.

Uh-huh. Um...

This is not the kind of security I expect from a first-class hotel.

I want someone up here right away!

I want them to see how safe you make it feel for your guests,

just how easy it is for someone to walk in and violate my privacy, my...

My property.

Yeah, well, see that you make it fast.

I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to, uh...

Okay, Jimbo, you got about three seconds

to tell me what the hell you're doing in here.

Who the hell are you?

Mr. Garrett, what is it... Oh, my God, stop this! Stop!

Wait...

Yes, this is Harry Portman over at the motel.

I've got a drunk and disorderly for you.

Please, come in, won't you?

Believe me, once I realized who you were, I quite understood.

I'm sorry about your father, Miss Callan.

And, really, there's nothing to apologize for.

You were obviously under a great deal of stress.

You're very kind.

So let me take you to lunch, for no reason at all. How's that?

That's much better.

Tell me, was anything stolen from your room?

No, nothing.

From the little I saw,

I sensed that they could have been looking for something specific.

What makes you say that?

Well, just the general level of destruction. Um...

I suppose it's my writer's instinct,

but when I heard that they thought that your father might have been murdered,

it occurred to me that the trashing of your room

might have been in some way connected.

Mrs. Fletcher, I can't imagine what that would be.

And if my father was murdered,

I'm sure it'll turn out to have been some sort of random killing.

Well, you seem awfully certain.

Yes.

My father was not the sort of man who made enemies.

Mmm-hmm.

"Laura Ann Callan. Parents, Bernard and Janis Callan,

"born in Chicago, September 17th, 1956."

So, let's see, you'd have been about seven when he...

When Bernard Philip Callan was killed.

So I don't suppose there's a whole lot you remember about him.

Only that he was a very warm, loving, gentle man.

He raised me after my mother died.

I see.

Okay, now,

Mrs. Fletcher...

You don't mind my saying, do you, that I... I don't much like your books?

Really?

What is it you don't like about them?

Well, they're just too messy. I like stories that clean up all those loose ends.

You know, like Christie, Conan Doyle. But yours, sometimes,

I'm not sure if what I think happened really happened.

But isn't that the way it often is in real life?

Yeah. I hate that.

Now, so...

What exactly is your involvement in all this?

Well, Miss Callan, Laura, asked if I'd accompany her to

provide a bit of moral support.

Oh.

Hey, hey, hey, take it easy, huh?

It's the only suit I've got.

You're some kind of beauty, Garrett.

The Chicago PD's got nothing but wonderful to say about you

all the way from PI license suspensions,

to B and E, to aggravated assault.

Oh, those cops, they're some of the best fans I've got.

Yeah. They're right up there with your bankers.

Took three of your credit cards just to cover your bail.

This is one of your late father's associates, Miss Callan,

although I'm not sure that he's the kind of truth that you're hunting for.

Well, they seem to be surveillance photographs.

You have no idea who these people are?

No. I presume my father took them for one of his clients.

Well, that was Bernie's specialty, you know,

peeking between the sheets.

And you were staying with your grandmother in Iowa

when he sent these photos to her?

That's right. With instructions that she should hold on to them

and that she shouldn't open the envelope

unless something happened to him.

Well, after he disappeared, I stayed on,

and my grandmother finally gave them to me just shortly before she died.

You know, besides a few postcards and snapshots,

it's really all I have of my dad's.

There was a fire.

Our apartment in Chicago was also his office. Everything in it burned.

Yeah, I remember, because it was at Christmas time,

and I went by there to...

Uh...

To see if he was back in town.

Mr. Garrett, because my father was so scrupulous about paying his bills,

I will personally see to it that you get every penny that is owed you.

That's very decent of you, Miss Callan.

You know, by the way, I remember who this woman was.

Majeski. Karen Majeski.

She had a husband named Ralph.

He was a big-time scrap metal tycoon

from the south side, a zillionaire.

Now, maybe he hired Bernie to tail them.

You see, this Karen, she had quite a reputation for fooling around.

Well, that certainly doesn't explain why my father was killed.

Yeah, well, maybe Steve Stunning here caught him snooping.

Wait, wait.

I think I know what this is all about.

That's...

My God, that's... It's Lee Harvey Oswald.

You don't believe anything we've said, do you, Mr. Whitman?

I believe you did the right thing by calling the FBI, Miss Callan,

and by putting the photos in the motel safe.

Well, in any case, as I say, I think it's very likely

that someone else knew about those photographs.

Right. Somebody connected to the JFK assassination.

Like the guy standing next to Oswald in the photos.

The one you claim resembles the mobster, Santo Angelini.

Yeah, him. What about him? Is he still alive?

I wouldn't know.

Oh, come on. You guys spend half your time

chasing around bozos like Angelini.

I'm sure we'll have this all cleared up in a minute, Mr. Garrett.

And then Mrs. Fletcher can catch her plane back to Cabot Cove, and...

Mr. Whitman, the public have been whipsawed back and forth for years

about what really happened that day in Dallas,

about whether Mr. Oswald acted alone,

whether indeed he ever fired the shots.

Now, if there's even a chance that these photographs

could shed any new light on this matter,

whether I catch a plane or not

is of very little importance.

I didn't mean anything personal, Mrs. Fletcher.

The FBI receives several thousand calls like this every year

from people with all kinds of motives.

Oh, my God... Oh.

Excuse me.

You okay? There we go.

Okay, so you claim to have seen these surveillance photos

that may have been taken by the late Bernard Philip Callan,

who turns out to have been murdered.

That's definite? It's about as sure as we're gonna be.

The coroner confirmed the nick in his spine was caused by that bullet.

Angle indicates it would have been fatal.

Chief Gillis, according to Laura and Mr. Garrett,

Mr. Callan vanished in November or December of 1963.

Now, my guess is that he was killed

shortly after the assassination of President Kennedy,

which took place on the 22nd of November in Dallas.

Whitman.

I'll be there in 10 minutes.

Miss Callan, because your father's murder

isn't within the FBI's jurisdiction, I can't really help you.

But I hope his killer is apprehended,

or if that's no longer possible, at least identified.

Thank you.

Mr. Whitman, for the record,

all three of us saw the photographs.

Oh, I'm sure you believe you saw them, Mrs. Fletcher.

Afternoon, Thurman. Doc.

Dr. Abner Farrow.

I teach Modern History over at the university.

You were off your game this morning, Thurman.

Yeah, but if he'd moved his knight to your queen-seven,

it would have been a little different.

Well, as I told the Chief,

I just want to be a little old fly on the wall.

So, please, continue as if I'm not here.

Okay, so, where were we?

The photographs.

Let's suppose that Mr. Callan took those photographs

a few days prior to the assassination.

He was about to mail them to his client in Chicago,

when the events in Dallas took place.

Yeah, and then suddenly there's Oswald's face

all over the television and the newspapers,

and bingo, Bernie recognizes him as the guy in his photos.

But what reason would my father have had

for telling anyone about those pictures?

Well, considering the fact that they found 10 G's in his wallet,

I'll tell you what comes to mind. Blackmail.

Now, wait a minute...

Well, it's just a thought.

Laura, it does make a certain amount of sense.

And, I mean, it would explain why,

after your father was killed, they went to Chicago,

searched his office looking for the photos.

Yeah. And when they didn't find them, they torched the place.

And they never suspected that your grandmother had them.

They didn't even know that she was there.

May I have your attention please?

You realize what you're saying, don't you?

That my father may have had the keys

to one of the worst crimes in our history,

and that he chose to try to profit from it?

Look, Laura, I'm just suggesting that it's possible.

It's also possible that I'm wrong.

Laura, I think I understand how difficult this is for you.

I mean, how very much that little girl

whose father disappeared all those years ago

has needed to cling to the belief that he wasn't rejecting her,

that he really loved her.

All the children I grew up with, my schoolmates,

they used to taunt me.

They would ask me why my father ran away, what was wrong with me.

So, in self-defense, you created this wonderful man

with no faults. The perfect father.

Guess I did a pretty good number on myself, didn't I?

Nothing to be ashamed of, Laura. It's called survival.

Hey, I know some guys who've been fooling themselves their whole lives.

Now, the important thing is that the people who wanted those pictures so badly,

they've found 'em.

So there's no more danger, right?

I hope so, Charlie.

These are only part of the job you failed to finish back in 1963,

and again today.

Oh, come on, Mr. Angelini,

those negatives, if they were still around...

Somebody besides Mr. Callan

would have attempted to blackmail me by now?

Blackmailers don't frighten me, Mr. Hemet.

But the FBI does.

I do not wish to spend what little time I have left

in jails and courtrooms.

I expect you to find those negatives,

or to give me hard evidence that they no longer exist.

You understand?

There is no report we ever got a call from your father, Miss Callan.

Which could mean that he didn't actually see the photographs.

Or you were mistaken about what you saw.

Now, if you'll excuse me...

Mr. Whitman, there is one other thing.

I would like to know the present whereabouts of Mr. Santo Angelini.

That's totally out of the question.

With the resources that you have at your disposal,

I'm sure it would only take a phone call.

Look, both of you,

the Warren Commission cleaned up this matter a long time ago.

Now, if you want to try and rewrite history, fine.

But you're going to have to do that on your own time.

Mr. Whitman, people have been beaten, robbed, their rooms searched,

and all of it's somehow connected to Bernard Callan,

and, whether you like it or not, the assassination of President Kennedy.

Mrs. Fletcher, will you please...

And it seems to me that your position as a Federal Agent aside,

certainly you would have some sense of responsibility.

All right, all right, Mrs. Fletcher.

Fine. I'll get back to you.

What is it, Jessica?

That man.

Excuse me, are you a police officer?

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

Nonsense. You've had us under surveillance

ever since we left here this morning. What is it you want?

Look, lady, you're mistaken.

No, I'm not. Now, please answer me.

Or would you prefer that I call hotel security?

What do you suppose that was all about?

You know, I have a feeling that whoever stole the photographs isn't satisfied.

But what else...

The negatives?

The negatives.

I've got the information you requested, Mrs. Fletcher.

About Mr. Angelini.

Mr. Whitman, I have a couple of new questions for you.

If I'm only imagining that I saw

Mr. Oswald and Mr. Angelini in those photographs,

why do you suppose that Laura Callan and I are being followed?

And why has my room been broken into and searched?

Mrs. Fletcher, I think you should be very careful from here on out.

Oh, I agree.

Now, you were going to tell me where I can find this Mr. Angelini.

Who is it?

Me, Charlie Garrett.

Well, how you holding up?

What is it exactly you wanted to see me about?

Well, I'm not your enemy.

Sorry.

So how did you and Mrs. Fletcher make out with the FBI?

Well, it's beginning to look as though my father was

attempting to use the photographs for extortion.

No. Really? Hmm.

They didn't happen to say anything about

where Mr. Angelini might be hanging out, did they?

Well, I suggest you ask Mrs. Fletcher.

Mr. Garrett, it's been a very difficult few days for me. I'm awfully tired, so...

Right, right, right. Well, I'll be going.

Listen, I'm gonna be leaving for Chicago early in the morning.

I just wanted to apologize for anything I might have said about...

About Bernie.

You know, as far as I'm concerned, he's just not...

It's really not necessary.

Oh, another thing.

It was really nice of you offering to

come up, you know, what he owed me,

but I don't need that money anymore.

You see, I picked up this big new client, and...

Anyway, good luck.

And I sure hope they find the guy that whacked out your father.

Thank you, Mr. Garrett.

So, anyway, it sounds pretty good to me.

We sell the negatives to Mr. Angelini for a bundle, and go halves.

You got a number in mind we can hit him up for?

No, don't!

I really just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your...

Well, your empathy.

I mean, all that defensiveness and paranoia...

And in nearby Coral City, j joggers made a grim discovery

early this morning... That's the man who was following us.

When they found the body of 64-year-old Frank Hemet

slumped over the wheel of his car, an apparent murder victim.

Police Chief Thurman Gillis has indicated that there are no suspects thus far,

but stated that, pending an autopsy,

the probable cause of death was a gunshot wound to the heart.

The car was found parked in a remote area near the Coral City waterfront.

The killing of Hemet, a long-time resident, apparently took place...

Excuse me, Laura.

In the early hours of this morning,

and thus far, no eyewitnesses have stepped forward...

Jessica, what's going on?

I don't know. But I'd certainly like to find out

what Mr. Frank Hemet was doing, and with whom, on November 22nd, 1963.

Stay tuned, and after this short break, I'll be back...

Special Agent Whitman, please.

Mr. Whitman, this is Jessica Fletcher.

I'm all right, thank you.

The man who was following Laura Callan and me yesterday

was found murdered over in Coral City?

Well, I'm delighted we're beginning to think along the same lines.

And I have a feeling that a background check on Mr. Hemet

might turn out to be very interesting.

Yeah, that's the guy, all right.

The one who tossed my room and jumped me.

Forget it. Frank Hemet would no more do that sort of thing

than he'd have been tailing you. I mean, I knew him.

This is a man who sold nails and two-by-fours at the lumber yard.

He sponsored a Little League team, for God's sake.

Look, Chief Gillis, have you found anything

that would indicate who killed Mr. Hemet?

Nothing yet.

But, Garrett, where were you this morning between 3:00 and 4:30?

Where the hell do you think I was?

Like there's something else to do in this town but sleep.

Uh-huh. By any chance, do you...

It's the FBI. For you.

Oh.

Like I was saying, do you carry a .38?

I might.

How about letting us run a ballistics comparison?

Hey, listen, Gillis, you're gonna have to book me first.

And it better be for something solid.

Otherwise, stay off of my case, huh?

Look, according to this report, Frank Hemet moved to Coral City

in October of 1963.

That was a month before the JFK assassination.

Yeah.

That means he was in town at the same time as your father.

Wait, there's more. "Mr. Hemet served for 13 years

"on the Dallas police force.

"He came here immediately after resigning,

"under suspicion of affiliation with organized crime."

My God, you think you know somebody...

Did Mr. Hemet have any relatives here?

None that I ever heard about.

Then why would he have moved to Coral City in the first place?

And then why would he have stayed all those years?

Pardon me. Did it ever occur to you

that he might have just plain liked the place?

No, not really.

Chief Gillis has a point

I suspect you're all reading way too much into this.

Perhaps. Although...

Okay, what is it, Mrs. Fletcher?

Chief Gillis, I wonder...

If Mr. Hemet owned any .45-caliber weapons,

maybe it might be worthwhile to run a ballistics test on them.

And what would I want to do that for?

Well, knowing your penchant for nice, neat endings,

who knows, you might just find the gun that killed Bernard Callan.

Okay, now you listen to me.

Because I knew it would come to this,

I took out a little insurance.

This is the way it pays off.

I turn up dead or missing.

I've arranged some bread crumbs

that are gonna lead right back to you and the others.

Look...

Look at it this way.

I've almost got my hands on the items in question.

After all these years,

how much difference is another 24 hours gonna make?

Hello?

Hello...

Yeah?

Excuse me, Mr. Angelini.

She wouldn't wait. I told her you were busy, but no.

Ah!

Mrs. Fletcher.

Come in.

It's all right, Carlo.

Well, I can't say I'm surprised by your resourcefulness.

Can I offer you some coffee? Some refreshment?

No, thank you. I've already found what I came for.

And what could that be?

Mr. Angelini, two days ago, I was shown some very old photographs

in which Lee Harvey Oswald was standing next to a young man

who someone told me looked like you.

So now that you've seen me up close,

you're satisfied that it was me?

Oh, yes, I am.

That's a serious accusation, Mrs. Fletcher.

Not to mention a flimsy one,

since, as I understand it,

you're unable to produce these supposed photos.

Nor do I have the negatives,

which your people are still slicing up furniture in the hopes of finding.

My dear lady, I assure you I don't know what you're...

Mr. Angelini, we both know

that this is all connected to one of the most monstrous events

in the history of our country, and...

Mrs. Fletcher, let me ask you a question.

Assuming that there was a conspiracy in Dallas,

are you really naive enough to believe the people responsible

would permit you to peer into their can of worms?

May I have your attention, please? At 2:00...

Mrs. Fletcher. And by the way, your seminar was great.

Oh, I appreciate that, Mr. McCaffrey.

Oh, I almost forgot, this fax just came in for you a while ago.

Not that I read it or anything, but I couldn't help noticing

it's from the Federal Bureau of Investigation in Washington.

So it is. Thank you.

Ah! Mrs. Fletcher. What a delightful surprise.

I've been hoping for an opportunity

to have a private word with you,

to volunteer a bit of humble advice, if I may.

Oh, and what would that be, Dr. Farrow?

Well, this... This business about the late Mr. Callan,

and those photographs, and then Mr. Hemet's murder.

Well, believe me, I can understand

how one might leap into some pretty far-fetched notions.

But what I urge you to consider, Mrs. Fletcher,

are the potential consequences for you.

For me?

Well, think about it. A flurry of interviews,

the talk show, lurid tabloid commentary.

And then after the dust settles,

the big loser will most assuredly be you,

and your hitherto excellent reputation.

You'll be dismissed as just another assassination freak.

Dr. Farrow, I'd be touched by your concern for me,

except that I understand your

about-to-be-published book on the assassination

totally supports the Warren Commission's conclusions.

But we're talking about the truth.

And any contradictory revelations about the case could render it worthless?

Along with your credibility.

Mrs. Fletcher, I've spent 20 years on that book.

There's talk of $1 million in royalties, awards...

A little while ago, in the public library, I discovered something else.

A young reporter, who filed several eyewitness stories

from Dallas on November 22nd, 1963,

under the byline of D.A. Farrow.

Your first name is Desmond, isn't it?

I... Yes, I was in the motorcade.

In the first press car, I believe.

You know, what I found particularly interesting

was that, in your initial report,

you said that you heard four shots fired.

But the next day, you changed your story.

You wrote that you heard only two shots.

The first report, it was a typo.

Was it, Dr. Farrow?

Charlie, what are you doing here?

Jessica, look...

I'm sorry. Now, if you'll just give me that little manila envelope,

I'll get outta your way.

The negatives?

Come on, Jessica.

How did you get them?

Bernie. He sent 'em to me back in 1963.

Oh, for safekeeping.

Well, you know, we don't want any trouble, now, do we?

The rest of it, Charlie.

Okay.

They were postmarked Coral City, November 25th.

Three days after the assassination.

Yeah. And probably a minute and a half before Bernie got himself killed.

I stuck 'em in the file, and then I forgot about 'em for about a year.

Then when I realized that Bernie had stiffed me on the IOU,

I took 'em to a drugstore and had some prints made.

You know, just in case there was something in there

that somebody might want to pay a few bucks for.

Anyway, they were these little three-by-fours,

and with the exception of Karen Majeski and her stud,

I didn't notice anything.

And by that time, the Majeskis had gotten a divorce anyway.

Uh-huh. So you put them back in your file.

Until I read about 'em finding Bernie.

Then I realized there must be a connection to his disappearance.

You know, I should get hunches like this when I'm at the racetrack.

Anyway, I wanted to put 'em in a safe place.

So you put them in the mail to me,

instead of to Chief Gillis or the FBI.

Hey, now, wait a minute, you know you can't trust those guys,

Gillis or Whitman.

That's not the real reason, is it, Charlie?

You intend to blackmail Mr. Angelini with them, don't you?

Come on, Jessica, you're... You're as paranoid as everybody else.

Now let me have them.

Oh, Charlie, think. Think about what happened

to Bernie Callan when he tried it.

I'll look after those.

Charlie... Hello?

Laura?

Jessica, please, listen carefully.

Come quickly. By yourself. And bring the negatives.

They know we've got the negatives.

Are... Are you all right?

Yeah, so far. Look, whatever you do,

please don't call the police, or...

Don't call anyone. They've got nothing to lose.

Yes. I'll be leaving in about two minutes.

I wonder how the hell they knew where the negatives were.

A microphone.

Of course. They bugged the joint.

Laura... Mrs. Fletcher.

The negatives, please.

I don't have them.

Then, no doubt, you've disregarded our instructions in other ways.

Go ahead, pal, make your move.

No! No!

Charlie!

What about the negatives?

Zip. Harbor Patrol and a bunch of local divers all came up empty.

Best guess is they got swirled out to sea

or chopped up in somebody's propeller.

Bottom line is, they're gone.

Along with any proof that Mr. Angelini ever set eyes

on Lee Harvey Oswald.

Much less that he had anything to do with the assassination.

Well, hell, it isn't all that bad.

We got an APB out for him, his soldier is behind bars,

and it turns out that Mrs. Fletcher was right on the mark

about the gun that killed your father.

It was Frank Hemet's.

Yeah, it's a safe guess he was working for Angelini.

Yeah, but it's still just a guess, right?

Angelini was afraid of exposure. He was angry at Frank.

When Forensics is finished, I'm sure that we'll find

a fabric trace or a DNA match

on the passenger seat of Frank's car.

Chief Gillis, I don't think Mr. Angelini killed Hemet.

Mrs. Fletcher, what do you... What do...

It was someone who knew about Frank Hemet's past.

It was you, wasn't it, Laura?

Don't be ridiculous, Jessica.

How could I have known about Frank Hemet's past?

And that FBI report on his background,

it wasn't even faxed to you until the night after Frank Hemet was killed.

You're right.

You're right. But it had been stamped "retransmission."

So I asked Agent Whitman to check.

A little while ago, they faxed me confirmation

that you'd been sent a copy of it the night before.

Well, that's... That's simply not true.

You probably requested it on your Denver prosecutor's office letterhead?

And there's something else.

When you came to my hotel room this morning,

there was a small, dark smudge on your jacket.

I hardly noticed it at the time,

even when the news of Frank Hemet's murder appeared on the TV,

but then when they showed his car,

with its grease-stained shoulder belt,

which would have left a stain precisely where I'd seen it.

On Laura's right shoulder.

He deserved it.

He murdered my father.

You'll find a tape recording of our conversation in my bag.

He confessed? Then why did you...

Come on, Chief Gillis, you know the drill.

It happened a long time ago. He'd let an exemplary life.

He was old. He was lovable.

What jury would have convicted him?

So after we confronted Mr. Hemet in the hotel lobby, you followed him.

I learned his name, where he lived.

I called him. I told him I had the negatives.

I suggested we strike up a deal.

I convinced him that we should sell the negs to Santo Angelini

for a great deal of money.

After that, I was his new best friend.

It really didn't take very much to convince him that I'd hated my father.

My dad really wasn't around very much.

Always cheating on my mom.

Well, if your daddy would've lived up to the bargain

and given me what we paid him for, I'd never have had to kill him.

So, anyway, sounds pretty good to me.

We sell the negatives to Mr. Angelini for a bundle and go halves.

You got a number in mind we should hit him up for?

No.

I'm sorry, Laura.

Thank you, Jessica.

Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on. Hold on, just a second, Gillis.

What about the 10,000 bucks that was found in Bernie's wallet?

I want you to have it, Charlie.

I know it doesn't quite cover the 30 years of compound interest,

but, on the other hand, I'm not going to have any use for it.

I guess my father turned out to be only human.

But then,

so did I.

This way please.

Yeah, except Bernie wasn't a murderer.

Well, aside from the pleasure I'd have had from locking you up, Garrett,

I think we've got us my kind of ending, after all.

At least as far as Coral City's concerned.

Yeah, and when they bring Angelini in,

maybe then we can learn something about what happened in Dallas.

Yeah.

Mmm.

Okay.

Thanks, Avery.

Well, I'm afraid Santo Angelini isn't going to tell us anything.

Three minutes ago, he ran a road block on the I-95.

His car flipped and exploded. He was killed instantly.

But there's one thing.

Avery said that they saw his taillights go on,

like maybe he was trying to stop.

Do you think it could be possible

that somebody tampered with his brakes?

You know, Jessica,

I guess it wasn't too swift of me, you know,

putting you at risk by mailing you those negatives.

No, it wasn't. I assume this is an apology.

Well, yeah, sort of.

I guess the thing I'm really kicking myself about is,

I should have recognized what was in those photos the first time I saw 'em.

Then I could have sold them to Angelini, retired to a tropical island,

and none of this ever would have happened.

Charlie, I'm not all that sure that you would have done it then, or now.

Maybe. Maybe not.

I guess we're just gonna have to add that

to all the other things we'll never know about this mess.