Original subtitles

Hi, Mrs. Fletcher. Hello, Tommy.

Right over there. Thanks.

Well, you look sensational to me.

You'll stop when we tell you to stop. Got it?

Tell me what happened.

Cause of death was strangulation.

Listen, Vic, I am gonna have a bundle by the end of the week.

I promise, I will pay you back in full.

No, this afternoon.

You and Monica, you're not...

I'm fixing her faucet.

I'm afraid I find that very hard to accept.

Ah, this is interesting.

A bullet.

That means there are two people who are determined to kill Tommy.

Tommy!

Excellent.

The quality is better this time.

But why so few? I was promised more.

I don't know. I just deliver them.

No matter.

Guilders?

Dollars are tight this week. There is a problem?

No. No. No problem.

Flight 115 from Amsterdam is now arriving at Gate 10.

Philip, I am sorry, but it's just not possible.

Well, look, I'm barely halfway through it.

It's gonna be all I can do to finish it by Wednesday.

Yes, you, too.

And don't forget the dinner party. Right.

I hate to disturb you again, Jessica, but I can't find the oregano.

Oh, I think it's in the left-hand cabinet there.

Hang on.

Here we are.

This was so sweet of you.

But I don't think it's the best idea you ever had.

Susan, this is going to be a huge success.

I mean, good heavens, think how effortlessly

you prepared those marvelous meals

for Seth and me and Eve Simpson and Adele and the Sheriff.

Except none of you were thinking of commissioning me to write a cookbook.

Listen to me, I guarantee that Philip will take one bite

of your marvelous food, and he will conclude

that he has died and gone to heaven.

And you'll get a book contract.

Hi, Mrs. Fletcher. Hello, Tommy.

Right over there, please.

Listen, I want to thank you again for those notes on my story.

They were right on the money.

Oh, I'm glad they helped. Are you kidding?

They're printing it in next week's school paper.

Oh, that's wonderful.

I've written another one. Would you mind, you know, taking a look at it?

Well, if you give me a few days, yes, send it to me.

Actually, I have a copy of it right here.

Here. Take as long as you want.

Oh, and Mrs. Wells, best of luck with your big banquet.

And if I don't see you again, have a great trip back to Maine.

Why, thank you, Tommy.

Such a sweet boy.

And talented, too.

Oh! Oh, no! They've forgotten the bay leaf.

And I cannot start Sauce Espagnole without it.

The bay leaf.

Monica, hey! How was your trip?

Oh, exhausting. I feel as if I could sleep for a week.

Well, you look sensational to me.

Tommy.

What is it with you, Tommy? You're driving me crazy.

I think you blew Mrs. Fletcher's order. You forgot the bay leaves.

Oh, man.

Plus, she needs some more stuff.

Now, do me a favor. Try to get it right this time, okay?

Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Oh, Monica,

I came in second in the 100-meter butterfly.

Tommy!

I don't know what it is with that kid.

His size twelves may be on the ground,

but his head is in Never-Never Land.

Mr. Eigers, he was just saying hello.

Yeah, listen, Miss Evers, I don't like to bother you with this,

but your grocery tab is three months overdue.

I know, Mr. Eigers. Tomorrow, okay?

No. This afternoon, or I'm afraid I'm gonna have to cut your credit off.

Oh, Miss Evers. What a lovely, lovely surprise.

Hi, Vic.

Hey. Hey. Let me take that for you. Oh, yeah.

So, you gonna be with us for a while?

Mmm-hmm. I'm gonna be in town about four days.

Ah, maybe that's enough time to catch up a little.

Last time you blew in and out of here so fast, we hardly had a chance to talk.

Look, Vic, I'm really tapped right now. Okay?

But I was hoping maybe you could take some action for me.

See, there's this filly in the fifth at Santa Anita...

You have got to be joking.

No. Listen, Vic, I am gonna have a bundle by the end of the week.

I promise, I will pay you back in full, and also...

Wonderful, you give me the bet then. I'll take it for cash.

Vic, I'm talking about $500 here. It'll almost get me even.

Hey, save it for the tooth fairy, and you count your blessings.

'Cause anybody else but me, they'd come after those gorgeous kneecaps

or something else, a long time ago. You got me?

Ciao, sweetie.

Monica! I didn't think you were coming back till tomorrow.

Well, I guess that shows how wrong a person can be.

I brought up your mail and some packages.

Thank you.

Those roses came for you. From that stockbroker.

Long stems, but I guess he can afford them.

Yeah.

I noticed your answering machine. Oh, my God, 27 messages in just three days.

I'm sorry, what did you say?

Oh, nothing.

Oh.

Oh, Sandy!

You don't need to water my plants. I can do that.

Oh, I'm here. Might as well do it.

Today's my watering day.

Planning a big night on the town?

No. No, actually, I was just gonna stay home tonight.

Tomorrow then? It'll be party time as usual.

Nope. As a matter of fact, I was thinking of maybe going out of town

for a couple days, alone.

With all the men that call you?

Listen, Sandy. I would love to stay and chat with you,

but the flight was very full, and I'm just wiped out. I just need some time alone.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to impose.

Oh, no. Oh, Sandy, you weren't imposing. Really.

You were a great neighbor, and I appreciate everything that you've done for me.

Well, you've sure got a funny way of showing it.

Sandy!

It's me. No, no. No problem. I got the money.

Billy, don't slap the water, cut it!

You're rushing your strokes! Derek, watch your breathing!

Pace yourself!

Sorry, I'm late.

Everybody gets here on time but you.

Why do you suppose that is?

I couldn't help it. You couldn't help it.

Like you can't help dogging your homework.

Dad, I'm doing my best. Don't blow smoke at me.

I see what's on your computer, and it isn't homework assignments.

It's those fantasies you write.

What's on my computer is none of your business. That's private.

Not as long as I'm paying for it, it isn't.

Besides, I was doing my homework. That's why I'm late.

Oh, yeah? Let me see.

Oh, for God's sakes, her again.

No wonder your studies are going to hell.

Please, Dad, Monica's a friend, that's all.

Friends like that you don't need. She could almost be your mother.

That's not fair. You don't know anything...

Okay.

Shut up, suit up, and get in the pool.

This is all? What's going on?

Nothing.

He said the market's flooded with stones right now.

Prices are way down.

Okay. Maybe we'll do better next time.

I'll have to get this turned into dollars before I pay you.

Fred, one more thing.

What is it?

I want out.

Why?

Because it's too risky. I'm scared.

You? A gambler? Come on.

No! I don't like the odds anymore.

And I'm not anxious to go to prison either.

You'll stop when we tell you to stop. Got it?

Then, Fred, I need an advance. I need 10 grand, and I need it fast.

You and everybody else.

Yeah. Our boy in Amsterdam has good hunches.

She's doing it to us again.

Okay.

Oh!

Oh, are you all right?

I am, but I'm not too sure about my batter.

Well, nothing that another half-dozen eggs and a couple of hours wouldn't cure.

See, if I could just get these thumbs to work like fingers again.

Oh, Jessica, I can't tell you how terrible I feel

about what I'm doing to your schedule.

It's all right, Susan. Don't worry about it.

If it wasn't this, it would be something else, I assure you.

But everything smells wonderful.

Oh, it does, doesn't it?

Mmm.

Well, I just have to keep telling myself that

the future of western civilization does not depend on this meal.

Oh, speaking of civilization,

I just can't find the white napkins that are

supposed to go with your white tablecloth.

They're downstairs in the dryer. They should be ready in a few minutes.

Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you. The gourmet shop called.

They're out of chanterelle mushrooms.

Oh, that's not good. No.

The whole third course depends on the chanterelle in the puffed pastry.

Ah, well, I will give Mr. Eigers a call.

He's usually been rather handy at stocking up these things.

Um, you have some money for me, Miss Evers?

I will write you a check, Mr. Eigers.

Good. I'd appreciate that a lot.

Excuse me.

Eigers' Grocery.

Hello, Mrs. Fletcher. Chanterelle mushrooms?

Ah, let me take a look.

Yeah, yeah. I think you're in luck.

Okay. You want me to include them in your order?

That's the total you owe.

Okay. Oh! I don't believe it. I'm out of checks.

Listen, Tommy, could you tell Mr. Eigers that I'll be right back?

Yeah. You bet. Thanks.

Did you get her check?

No, but she's...

I told you no more credit, and you let her walk right out of the store.

Look, Mr. Eigers, she said she'd be right back.

She said. She said. What am I gonna do with you, Tommy?

Look, deliver this to Mrs. Fletcher,

but first, stop by Miss Evers' and pick up her check.

Right.

Either she pays, or I'm gonna take it outta your hide

for the stuff she walked out of the store with.

Monica? What?

Mrs. Fletcher, Mrs. Fletcher!

Monica's dead. He killed her. He killed... Oh, my God...

Tommy! Tommy, please calm down.

Now take a deep breath.

Now, tell me what happened.

Monica, she's a flight attendant friend of mine,

and I saw this guy, he killed her and he took a shot at me, too!

Oh, and I think that we'd better call the police.

He looked right at me. I'd know him for sure if I saw him again.

So, you didn't actually see him kill her?

No. Monica was already dead.

So then the guy shoots at you, and you drop the groceries and run.

Is that about it?

Yeah.

Eddie, any luck with the bullet?

Negative, sir. We've checked the floors, the ceilings, we didn't find anything.

If a weapon was fired in here and missed, there's gotta be

a bullet hole or a nick somewhere.

I'm not imagining it, Lieutenant. I heard it.

And the body? This Monica Evers?

He must've taken her away.

Look, Monica's dead! I saw her.

Calm down, son. I'm trying to believe you.

Lieutenant, couldn't the body have been hidden in one of

these storage lockers?

That's entirely possible, Mrs. Fletcher.

But to get a search warrant, I've got to convince a judge there's probable cause.

And just between you and me, about the only crime I can see here

is maybe lying to a police officer.

But why would Tommy do that?

I don't know. You tell me.

Maybe he panicked because he dropped the

groceries. He seems like a nice kid, though.

Lieutenant, would you mind if we went upstairs to Monica Evers' apartment,

just to see if she's there?

It'll be my pleasure, Mrs. Fletcher.

Guys, go on back to the precinct. Eddie, come on.

Looks like someone's here.

Police! Whoever's in there, come out with your hands in the air. Right now!

Whoa! Whoa! Wait a minute. Come on, come on.

Don't go crazy on me now.

Who are you?

I'm the manager. I'm Vic Gorman.

What are you doing in there?

I'm fixing a faucet.

Uh, I take it that Miss Evers is not here?

No. She went out about two minutes ago. What's going on here?

Two minutes ago?

Yeah. She got a little tired of me banging on the pipes. What's wrong?

Flowers and I are gonna check the basement again, Mrs. Fletcher. Bring the kid.

Yes. Thank you, Lieutenant. Let's go, Tom.

Look, Lieutenant, I swear I'm telling the truth.

Take it easy, son. I'm not gonna press charges.

I just want you to know that making a false police report

is a serious crime.

You've wasted the time of four officers,

plus I don't know how much you value Mrs. Fletcher as a friend,

but you've certainly shown her that your word isn't worth very much.

I don't know what your problem is, son,

but you've got some serious soul-searching to do.

I tell you something, if that was my kid, I'd ground him for a year.

I don't know, Flowers. He saw something, even if it wasn't a murder.

Hey, how about that Fletcher lady?

Yeah, the guys at Manhattan South were right on the money about her.

She's a genuine piece of work!

Look, Eddie, get Miss Evers' phone number. Call her.

Keep calling her, until you find out she's okay.

Meanwhile, we both better keep our eyes out for any Jane Does

that may turn up in the morgue.

Gotcha. All right.

Sandy, darling. You're just the lady I wanted to see.

Oh, Vic, I... Have you seen Monica?

I'm not her appointment secretary.

Hey, Sandy, don't bust my chops here. All I want to know is, did you see her?

It's all this police business, isn't it? She's in some sort of trouble.

Would you come on already, this is important. Answer my question.

Not since this morning.

You sure?

Yes.

Listen, um... You and Monica, you're not... You know...

What, are you kidding me? This is business here.

I could be out a bundle.

She did mention something about taking a trip by herself.

Oh, man, oh, man!

I'm fixing brisket tonight. Your favorite.

You're still coming over, aren't you?

I'll let you know.

Oh, I think I know why Tommy told those lies.

Jess, wine, 60 bucks a bottle!

He broke them all when he dropped the box.

You think he made up that fantastic tale

because he didn't wanna have to pay for all this?

Well, I guess it's possible. How's it going?

I'm a lot less overwhelmed, I'm happy to say.

You know, I think it is gonna work out.

Hello?

Philip, how are you?

Well, let me ask her.

You're gonna love this. Three of your hopefully

about-to-be publisher's friends are coming into town

unexpectedly and Philip wants to know if he can bring them along to the dinner party.

Oh, yes. I can work it out. Just... somehow.

Say yes.

All right! Susan says that she'd be delighted to welcome your friends.

Fifty laps?

For what? Telling the truth? That's real fair.

Come on, Tommy, get real, for God's sakes.

You're damned lucky the police let you off.

Thanks, Dad. Thanks for nothing!

Tommy!

Look, son. I'm not trying to give you a bad time.

Well, I guess I'm lucky, 'cause you're doing a hell of a job, Dad.

Tommy, I just want you to know that this is... Where are you going?

What does it matter? Nothing I ever do is right.

Kid, what are you, crazy?

Three more people.

I must've been out of my mind. Oh, well, I just keep telling myself

that I'm just going to be rich and famous.

Look, the sugar!

Hold it. Let me get a bowl.

Oh, Jess! It's for the crême brulée.

I mean, he must've broken it when he dropped it.

Look.

Oh, I don't think that's why it's leaking.

What is this?

I think it proves that Tommy was telling the truth.

What are you looking for?

A bullet.

Somebody did shoot at him and the sugar sack absorbed the impact.

Oh, lucky for him.

Thirty-seventh precinct.

Is Lieutenant Warren there, please?

Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher.

I wanna get this right over to Forensics.

Uh, and Miss Evers, have you been able to reach her?

Detective Flowers has been leaving messages

on her answering machine every hour or so.

If she doesn't turn up by midnight, I'll give it to Missing Persons.

Uh-huh. There's one other thing, Lieutenant, Tommy Remsen.

I mean, if there is a killer at large, he could be in very great danger.

That occurred to me, too, so I spoke to his father a little while ago.

It seems the kid took off this afternoon and he hasn't come home yet.

Oh, now, wait a minute. You're not suggesting that you think that he...

If it turns out that there was a murder,

it could also turn out that Tommy is our perpetrator.

According to his father, the kid had or has a very heavy duty

crush on Miss Evers.

And the feeling wasn't mutual.

Okay, better. Not good enough, but better! Five lap cool down!

Mrs. Fletcher, you're the one who's been helping him with those stories of his.

Well, I think he's very talented.

Uh-huh. Tell me something. Outside of that,

do you have any idea what's wrong with him?

Mr. Remsen, I really don't think it's my place to...

Look, I'm a coach, and when I can't figure out

why a member of my team isn't performing up to his potential,

I get another opinion. Because every once in a while, it turns out to

be some simple thing that I missed.

Well, I don't know Tommy that well,

but I have the sense that he very much wants to be a writer.

That again!

And, if I may say so, your reluctance to recognize

that part of him really bothers him.

Well, I tell you, I've got a hot flash for you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Sports scholarships are a whole lot easier to come by than literary ones.

Writers aren't exactly a big draw at college stadiums.

On the other hand, a writer can still perform after 35.

Well, you've got a point, there.

Anyway, I guess like most parents today,

one of my big worries is that he might be involved with drugs, you know,

that whole scene.

Yeah. Well, has he ever given you any indication of that?

Well, the running away.

I mean, he'll be back. This isn't the first time.

Except now, the police want to talk to him. And that guy.

What guy?

You mean this might have to do with that thing he was supposed to have witnessed?

See, yesterday, when Tommy took off,

there was this bozo. I saw him come down the street and walk towards Tommy.

Tommy took one look at him and ran.

Mr. Remsen, do you think that you could describe him to the police?

Yeah, sure.

Monica murdered?

Please! She was home last night.

You saw her?

No, but when I came in, I heard noises coming from her apartment.

I mean, she is always partying. Very popular.

Even with delivery boys. Oh, it's open.

Oh, my goodness. Look at this place.

This explains the sounds you heard last night.

Hello? Monica?

Anyone home?

I'll check the bedroom.

Well, it's hard to believe. The bedroom's an even bigger mess.

These don't take much water.

No. Once a week is enough.

It would be hard to tell if anything was missing here.

Impossible.

Mrs. Fletcher, I'm worried about Monica.

I think you have reason to be, Miss Oates.

So what's this got to do with me?

V.G.? Vic Gorman?

Lady, there are a lot of people with those initials.

Yes. But not too many who claim to be repairing a faucet in a silk suit

and an expensive gold watch.

You know, I like you, lady. You're all right.

Yeah, I was taking bets from Monica.

The girl had the worst luck on the west side.

And she owes you money?

Big. Twelve large, give or take.

That's why I was in the apartment. I was looking for cash.

And that's why you said that Monica had just left.

You didn't want the police to think that you were in there without her permission?

You're really out there, you know. You want some?

What was the last time that you actually saw her?

Hmm. Yesterday. Sometime before noon.

I see.

I assume that Monica rented one of those storage rooms down in the basement?

Yeah. A lot of the tenants do. Why?

I wonder, would it be possible for me to see it?

How about keeping me out of this, huh?

My only concern is the safety of a young man.

Okay, let's go.

After you.

Geez. What a load of junk.

It looks as if something was dragged across the floor.

A trunk, maybe.

Or a body.

What's this doing here?

It's Monica's.

And if she had left, she didn't go very far.

What do you mean?

Well, here's her wallet and her passport.

And a one-way ticket to Geneva.

Damn it. She's bugging out on me.

Well, perhaps you weren't the only one.

Well, I hope that you and the super didn't destroy any evidence

down there, inadvertently.

Well, I hope not, Lieutenant. Now, you were saying you found Monica Evers' body?

Yeah. They fished her out of the Harlem River.

Up around 225th Street. Do you want some more coffee?

No, thank you. No. Then Tommy was telling the truth?

Not necessarily. Cause of death was strangulation.

She was garroted.

But if the killer strangled her, why...

Why would he fire a gun at Tommy Remsen?

Well, I've got a couple of theories about that, Mrs. Fletcher,

one of which you're gonna hate.

We know that the kid had the hots for the victim.

Suppose he bumps into her in the basement,

nobody's around, he makes a pass at her, and he goes a little bit too far.

Boys at that age can be kind of klutzy where it comes to romance.

Anyway, she rejects him, or worse, she threatens to report him.

So, he strangles her.

And the gunshot?

You said he's creative.

After he kills her, he dreams up this story,

and with his own gun fires a bullet into the sugar sack,

knowing that sooner or later it's gonna be found.

Well, you were right, Lieutenant.

I not only hate it, I find it very difficult to believe.

Oh, hey, I don't love it myself.

And your other notion?

That the boy saw what he said he saw.

And the murderer wasn't alone. There was a second person who fired at Tommy.

An accomplice.

Yeah. I like that much better.

So do I.

Nobody likes to think of a typical all-American kid like that,

with those clear, blue eyes looking out at you

from under that baseball cap, as a killer.

But, hey, I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't keep all my options open.

Oh, I understand.

Anyway, Mrs. Fletcher, I just want you to know,

we are pursuing the hell out of the accomplice theory.

Well, I'm glad. Because if it's true, that means there

are two people who are determined to kill Tommy.

Oh, Tommy's father called.

He asked if you'd heard from him.

Oh, Lieutenant Warren spoke to him.

I think Mr. Remsen is beginning to realize that

Tommy may be in more danger than he thought.

Oh, it would be so much simpler back in Cabot Cove.

There are not so many places to hide.

New York City, I don't know, he could be anywhere.

Oh, I glanced at that.

I'm not a science-fiction fan, you know, but I think he writes beautifully.

Well, I think he has quite a flair for poetic images.

Oh, that's exactly what struck me, Jessica.

Oh, it's about a young space alien, you know,

and he comes from a distant galaxy.

He's wrongly accused of treason,

so he hides in the dome of the space academy

and he never learns that he's been cleared.

By the time they get to him, he's dead.

I think it's very touching, and it has some really interesting characters.

What is it, Jess?

Lieutenant Warren. Yes. You know, I think I know where Tommy is.

Would you meet me over at his school?

Good. I'm gonna call his father.

Listen, you may have to preside over this dinner party on your own,

but it's gonna be a huge success.

I don't know, Mrs. Fletcher, it seems to me this is the last place Tommy would go.

Someone's broken in here.

Wait. Let me go first.

Oh, my God!

Tommy!

Thank God it's not Tommy.

Looks like a single shot through the head.

Is this the guy your son was running away from?

Yeah, it looks like him.

Well, he matches the description the grocer gave

of the man who came in his store looking for your son.

Eddie, I want the full forensics team on this, and fast.

Okay.

We gotta get some prints ASAP. We've got to ID this guy.

Find out who he was working for.

Gotcha, Lieutenant.

Mrs. Fletcher, I assume you think Tommy's holed up here

somewhere in the school?

Yes. Yes, I do, and I think I know where.

I need a forensics team and the coroner here at Montclair High School,

and right away. Thank you.

Dad!

Tommy, are you okay?

Yeah, sort of. I thought you were that guy.

Son, how long have you been up here?

Since yesterday. I didn't know where else to go.

The guy that killed Monica, he was chasing me,

and no one would believe me except Mrs. Fletcher.

Thank God you're all right.

Oh, Tommy.

Tommy, did you hear anything unusual while you were up here?

No. Like what?

Well, like a gun shot.

You see, the man who was following you was killed downstairs.

Killed?

This is interesting.

I've never seen that before.

This has been recently fired.

I didn't even know it was there.

Son, pending the outcome of tests to determine whether

or not this is a murder weapon,

I'm placing you in protective custody.

You're putting him in jail?

Mr. Remsen, the man in the pool could have been killed by his accomplice

in the murder of Monica Evers, which means

that Tommy's life could still be in danger.

Or...

Victim's name is Fred Turner.

He's a jewel thief with a rap sheet about eight miles long.

Also, a suspect in a diamond center murder.

And you're charging my son with his murder?

I'm afraid so, Mr. Remsen.

We've got fingerprints, we've got a paraffin test, you name it.

I'll see if the DMV records have come in.

And what about the weapon?

This bullet was taken from Turner's body.

It's a .32 caliber from the gun that I found in the school attic.

Yeah, but it could have been in self-defense.

I mean, this Fred Turner was following him, threatening him.

Yeah, it could've been self-defense, all right,

but Ballistics says that this bullet is a match for the one

you found in the sugar sack.

The one Tommy claimed was fired at him.

They were both fired from the same gun.

So you're saying Tommy killed Monica Evers, too?

The truth is, I don't think Turner was anywhere near Monica Evers' killing.

I think he was part of some bad element

that your son Tommy had fallen in with.

Oh, God.

I'm afraid I find that very hard to accept.

Look, both of you, this is lousy for me, too.

You know, I'm beginning to realize how far away

I've pushed my son, riding him the way I did.

Trying to make him go in the directions that I wanted for him.

Suddenly, all that stuff seems so unimportant, so wrong.

Well, look, if it's any consolation,

I'm quite sure you're not the first

well-meaning father to have done it that way.

Oh, thanks, but that doesn't make it any less stupid.

And now, it's a little late to set things right.

I wouldn't be too sure of that, Dan.

You've been so supportive of me, Jess.

I just wish I could say something that would help.

You know, there's something that doesn't quite track.

Would you give me a hand with this?

Oh, sure.

Now, we have got to flip this carefully.

You're gonna put it on this dish, huh?

Yes, I think so. It's kind of a...

We ready?

All right.

Come up now. Come on.

It's a vacuum.

Oh, Susan, that is beautiful.

Thank you.

Congratulations!

The sink, it looks like it's getting ready to overflow.

Oh, it's all stopped up.

Jessica, are you all right?

Susan, I feel a lot better now than I did a moment ago.

I think I know who committed those murders,

and it wasn't Tommy Remsen.

Now wait a minute, you know all that

just because those little holes in the stopper basket were plugged up?

Actually, one little hole, and the bullet that made it.

If I'm not mistaken, one more look at one of Monica Evers' flower pots

will tell me why she was killed.

Oh, thank you for coming, Lieutenant.

It's my pleasure, Mrs. Fletcher.

There's nothing I'd like better than to see Tommy Remsen get off the hook.

So, what do you have for me?

Well, clearly everything revolved around Monica Evers' murder.

But the motive, that was really obscure.

And if the boy didn't do it, you've certainly got that right.

Unless you were to suppose that she was killed at least in part

because she had something the murderers wanted very badly

and they were unable to find on her person.

Whoa, now. Where did that come from?

Well, because they searched her apartment after they killed her.

I assumed they'd found it.

But when my sink filled up because the drain was blocked,

I remembered one of Miss Evers' plants was dying from being over-watered.

It occurred to me that the drain hole in the bottom of the pot was being blocked

by something, something...

Like a bag of diamonds.

Diamonds that she was holding out from the killers,

for whom she'd been working as a courier.

Mrs. Fletcher, that is very impressive.

Fred Turner was a suspected diamond thief, and Miss Evers...

She was a flight attendant who regularly flew to Amsterdam,

one of the great diamond centers of the world, where

she'd sell the stones Mr. Turner had stolen,

converting them to cash, which she brought back to New York.

And she was holding these back.

I like it. I like this.

Problem is, who killed Turner?

We're still stuck with all that evidence pointing toward Tommy Remsen.

Perhaps.

You're losing me.

I think Mr. Turner was killed by his partner.

When Tommy entered the basement,

he saw Fred Turner crouching over Monica's body.

What he didn't see was the man who fired the gun at him...

Monica?

And then framed him. That man could only be one person, you.

Mrs. Fletcher, I was with you right up until that one.

Well, one of the things that led me to that conclusion, Lieutenant,

were your own words.

Nobody likes to think that a typical all-American kid

like that, with those clear, blue eyes looking out

at you from under that baseball cap, is a killer.

So?

After witnessing Miss Evers' murder,

Tommy dropped his baseball cap in the lobby of my building.

Oh, my God! He killed her.

Tommy. Tommy, please calm down. Now take a deep breath.

Now, tell me what happened.

Monica, she's a flight attendant friend of mine.

When you arrived on the scene to investigate, he was bareheaded.

The only time you could have seen him wearing it

was when you fired a shot at him.

This is not exactly what we'd call hard evidence, Mrs. Fletcher.

No, but there's plenty of that.

The bullet you showed me in your office, the bullet that killed Fred Turner,

you said it was the same .32 caliber round that fired at Tommy,

and from the same gun.

It was. I have ballistics tests that show that.

Test results concocted by you.

The truth is the bullet that I found in the sugar sack

was a .9mm, the same caliber that's used in police pistols.

It's noticeably larger than a .32,

which was the bullet that you showed me in the police station.

I can show you that the bullet that you took out of the sugar sack

and the bullet that killed Fred Turner were both .32 caliber.

Oh, I'm sure you can because you switched them.

I'm also sure a real forensics report will indicate

that Tommy's fingerprints weren't on the gun,

which you must have planted only seconds before you "found" it.

And I have no doubt they'll be able to prove you also

faked the paraffin test that implicated Tommy.

Well, Mrs. Fletcher, you certainly seem to have everything all figured out.

But there's absolutely nothing to connect me to Fred Turner.

Wrong, Lieutenant. You caught Turner pulling a jewelry store robbery.

In exchange for not turning him in, you made an arrangement with him.

He'd supply the goods and you'd find someone to carry it to Europe.

Enter Monica Evers.

And who told you that?

I did, Lieutenant.

I checked a little further into the records, Mrs. Fletcher.

And as it turned out,

Monica Evers was caught in a gambling sting right in our own precinct.

She was in deep to the bookies.

I figured she'd do almost anything to get out.

And unfortunately for her, you were right.

And Turner was the only one who knew that you were involved.

And Tommy had identified him.

So, as soon as I arranged to meet you at the school,

you called Turner, got there before we did and killed him with a silencer.

How did you know that?

Because Tommy didn't hear the shot.

You are good, Mrs. Fletcher. You're good.

No, Lieutenant.

Mrs. Fletcher told me she thought you were involved. I said to myself, no way.

I've just never known a better cop than you.

Eddie, I know you'd feel better if I gave you the speech

about the kids in college and the leaky plumbing and the

wife's surgery, while these bozos who belong in jail are living like kings.

What the truth is? I like money.

Enough to commit murder for it.

Well, I guess the next time I see you, Jessica,

you'll be at my autograph party for my cookbook.

At which I guarantee they'll still be talking about your dinner party.

It was a magnificent meal, Susan. You really outdid yourself.

Your solving of those murders will stay with people a lot longer

and with considerably fewer calories.

Hi, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, hello, Tommy.

Mrs. Wells, your ears must be burning.

Mr. Eigers' been bragging about you and your dinner

and your new cookbook to everyone who comes in the store.

Well, that's not the only bragging that's going on, Tommy.

Your dad was telling me about your college scholarship in creative writing.

Darn. I wanted to tell you myself.

He's very proud.

I know. I applied for it months ago.

I was afraid to tell him.

But when it came through, I think he was happier about it than I was.

Well, I think it's delightful.

Oh, I almost forgot. Mrs. Fletcher, my dad and I

would like to invite you to our house for dinner next Friday night.

Well, thank you. That would be very nice.

Great. Oh, and don't be too disappointed if it's not great.

My dad, he picked out this heavy-duty recipe that's sort of beyond his talents.

He's been practicing all week, the kitchen's already a disaster area.

Susan, we know a little about disaster areas, don't we?

Yes.