All language subtitles for MSW s04e16 Murder Through the Looking Glass.eng

[Woman Screams]
[Woman] Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

Mr. Cosgrove has turned up
on a cold slab in the morgue.

I met him right after he'd been
shot in the head and the heart and dumped into the Connecticut River.

Mrs. Fletcher?
[Gasps]

I wanna to know what
the dying man said in his confession.

Naturally,
Adams's death was a loss.

Not to everyone.
You got what you wanted. You're in charge.

- A lady this persistent could be trouble.
- Let's get it over with quickly.

That's a bad place to stand, pal.
You're in my way.

[Hammer Clicks]

No!

[Engine Stops]

Okay, face me.

Just to satisfy my curiosity,
who ordered this hit?

What good would it do you?

[Silenced Gunshots]
[Splash]

[Applause]

Wonderful speech,
Mrs. Fletcher. Oh, thank you very much.

I wouldn't have missed it for anything.
Oh, they could have you back every year, as far as I'm concerned.

You're very kind.
[Laughs]

Mrs. Fletcher, uh, I don't think
you really had time to enjoy your dessert.

Listen, there's a wonderful place
right up the street where we can relax and have a great cup of coffee.

Best in Hartford.

It sounds like a wonderful idea.
Thanks. All right.

[Gasping, Wheezing]

[Tires Squealing]

[Horn Honking]

[Horns Honking]

[Tires Squealing]

[Woman Screams]

[Horn Blaring]

[Horn Stops Blaring]
Is he all right?

My heart.
I'll call the paramedics.

It's all right.
They'll be right here.

Can't breathe.

[Groans]
A priest.

Get me a priest.

Get me a priest.
Yes. Yes.

Is there a Catholic church nearby?

Father!

Father, I have sinned.

I killed a man tonight.

Carl Cosgrove...

from Farm- Farmington-

"H"and "H"-

[Groans]

He spoke to you.
What did he say? He wants a priest.

[Sirens Wailing]

He's dead.

[Man]
No, Edie, I did not have a fight with your sister.

No. Nothing.
Nothing happened.

I'm sitting home, minding my own business,
I'm watching the Celtics game when Norma walks in-

- Hey, what is this?
- The exhibitionist who stabbed the woman in the park.

Morey.
Flash and slash.

So I'm watching the Celts game
and Norma walks in,

and she asks me what do I think
of this new dress she just bought.

So I tell her.

The next thing I know,
she's upstairs and she's packing a bag.

Look, Edie, all I wanna know is,
is she there?

Uh, pardon me.
Could you tell me where I'll find Sergeant Cooper?

Sure. He's right there
at that desk. Thank you.

Edie, look, I don't think
your divorce entitles you to give me a lecture on married life.

Hey, hey, wait a minute!
Don't hang up!

I need your cousin Shirley's
phone number. Please?

Uh, Sergeant Cooper?
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Is that 204?

Yeah. All right.

Yeah, thanks, Edie.
Listen-

Yeah, and if you hear from her,
will you let me know?

Right. Okay.

[Sighs]
Yes?

- I'm Jessica Fletcher. We spoke
on the phone about a half hour ago. - Yeah. Yeah.

Morey. Morey!
The bodies in the cement mixer. They're on my desk.

Sorry.

I'm the one who made the report last night
about the man who died in the accident.

Yeah. Yeah.
Uh, John Doe.

He didn't have
any identification on him.

Oh, that's very odd.
No, it's not odd.

There's a lot of guys
walkin' around out there these days with nothin' in their pockets but holes.

Yes, but he wasn't walking around.
He was driving a car.

At the very least,
he would have a driver's license.

Unless he wanted to conceal his identity
because he was a professional killer.

Oh. Well!
A professional killer.

Uh, yeah, Mrs. Uh, Mrs. Fletcher,
where did you get that idea?

From his dying confession- "H" and "H."
I reported it to the night watch.

[Chuckles] "H" and "H."
What do you know about "H" and "H"?

Uh, well, if my research is accurate,
it means "head and heart."

What does that mean to you?

Well, I believe a bullet in both places
is the mark of a professional killing.

Okay. All right.

For the sake of argument,
let's sayJohn Doe was a professional killer.

Now, you tell me,
why would he confess to his last job?

Because it was his last job,
and he knew that it was,

and he did not want to die
with that on his conscience.

[Laughs]
That's good.

A hit man with a conscience.
Well, he wasn't always a hit man.

I mean, something in him
remembered that at the end.

And you believed that?

Yes, I believed him, Sergeant.

And I expect the police
to investigate.

I suggest you start
with Carl Cosgrove in Farmington.

Okay.
Why not?

Give me information.

Uh, oh, pardon me.
Directory Assistance.

You wanna listen?
Pick up the extension.

[Phone Ringing]

Hello.

Yes, this is the residence
of Carl Cosgrove. I'm Mrs. Cosgrove.

Yeah, Mrs. Cosgrove,
this is Sergeant Milton Cooper of the Hartford Police.

Look, I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour,
ma'am, but we got a report here that your husband may be, uh-

uh, missing.

No.

You've been misinformed,
Sergeant.

My husband is upstairs in bed.

- Could I talk to him please?
I wanna clear this up. - I'm sorry.

Carl can't speak on the phone right now.
He was working in the rose garden and got one of his asthma attacks.

I can have him call you
when he recovers.

No, no.
That won't be necessary. W- Wait. Wait.

Uh, Mrs. Cosgrove,

is it possible that there is another
Carl Cosgrove in Farmington?

I don't know of any.
To whom am I speaking?

Oh, my name is Jessica Fletcher.

And does your husband always take to his bed
when he has an asthma attack?

Good-bye, Mrs. Cosgrove.

Lady, what do you want?
This guy is alive.

We only have his wife's word for it.

Oh, come on, Mrs. Fletcher.

I'm sorry, but I know what I heard,
and something is wrong.

You know what's wrong?

What's wrong here
is that I'm sitting here listening to you instead of getting my work done.

Are we through, Mrs. Fletcher?
Yes, yes, we are through, Sergeant.

And thank you very much
for all your help.

Don't mention it. Ever.

[Phone Rings]
Cooper.

Morning.
Good morning.

How can I help you?

My name is Jessica Fletcher.
I'd like to see Mrs. Cosgrove.

Well, she didn't
call your name down, ma'am. Is she expecting you?

Well, not exactly.

I was talking to her
on the telephone a little while ago with police Sergeant Cooper,

and I'd like to continue
our interrupted conversation.

- She doesn't look like a cop.
- [Guard] I'm sorry, ma'am.

What was your name again?
Jessica Fletcher.

Maybe we'd better
clear this one with Adams.

Adams isn't here.

Just a moment.

[Buzzes]

Pierce.

Hold on.
What's the verdict?

I heard the tape of the phone call.
Sounds like the same woman.

A lady this persistent
could be trouble.

- Let's get it over with quickly.
- Let her in.

Company, dear.

You may go in,
Mrs. Fletcher. Thank you.

[Gate Buzzes]

Hello.
Won't you come in? Thank you.

I'm Ellen Cosgrove.
Is it Mrs. Fletcher? Yes.

I won't say
I'm not surprised to see you.

Oh, I can imagine.

I'm here to apologize for any distress
you may have been caused by Sergeant Cooper's phone call.

Ah.
It was rather brusque.

And in all fairness,
I feel that I owe you an explanation.

Frankly, I have been dying
of curiosity ever since the call.

Where did the police
get the idea Carl was missing?

A concerned citizen.
Thank God he was home.

I mean, what if he hadn't been?
I would've been worried sick. That call was like a bad joke.

Actually, Mrs. Cosgrove,

the police were told that something
may have happened to Carl Cosgrove.

But, of course,
having made contact with you we know that's not true.

Mrs. Fletcher, I think it's time
to introduce you to my husband. This way, please.

Darling, are you awake?

Here's someone
who wants to meet you.

Jessica Fletcher,
my husband, Carl Cosgrove.

Mr. Cosgrove, your wife has told me
about your asthma attack. I'm so sorry.

- Does she buy it?
- Not for a minute.

Must you always be negative?

Get some rest.

I'm going to show Mrs. Fletcher
the rest of the house.

So nice meeting you.

I saw nothing wrong.

Mm-mmm.
Her body language.

The way she looked at the mirror- straight at it.
She wasn't checking her lipstick.

Yeah, I caught that too.

I know you are there,
SenorJackson.

I do not like role-playing.
Do you understand?

Yes, of course, Senor Delgado.

But such moments are sometimes
necessary to maintain security.

♪Comprende♪

Comandante,
is something wrong?

[Speaking Spanish]

The comandante feels uneasy.

He wants to return
to Washington today.

Well, that cannot be arranged.

But you tell him that we will
take him tomorrow afternoon.

I will not stay here another night!

I demand to see Senor Adams,
your superior.

Tell him to take a number.

Mr. Adams isn't available.

He's in Washington arranging
the security for your appearance before the committee.

[Whispering In Spanish]

The comandante begs your pardon,
but he does not believe you.

Mrs. Fletcher, a Father Francis
was looking for you.

Father Francis?
A priest?

Yes. He left a message.

He wants you to meet him
at his church, St. Jerome's.

It's two blocks east.
You can't miss it. Oh, thank you very much.

- Mrs. Fletcher?
- [Gasps]

Oh. Oh, please. I'm sorry. Forgive me.
I didn't mean to startle you.

Oh, it's quite all right.
It's just a little difficult to talk when your heart's in your throat.

I felt self-conscious
hanging around your lobby. I thought this would be better.

Oh, yes.
How did you know my name?

I just described you to your desk clerk.
He was kind enough to identify you.

And thank you for coming.

Oh, I was very curious.
What is it that you want from me?

I want to know what the dying man
said in his confession.

Oh, yes. Yes, you were
interested in that last night.

That confession
was meant for a priest.

Yes. Of course.

That's true.

He said, "I just killed a man."
A Carl Cosgrove.

Yes, one of my parishioners,
a police officer,

was telling me that the man
was identified as a professional killer from another city.

Tell me, did he say
who hired him to kill Mr. Cosgrove?

No. And I just met Mr. Cosgrove,
and he seemed very much alive.

You're sure
it was the Mr. Cosgrove?

Father, what is it
you want to know?

Anything I can do
for you, Father?

No.
Thank you very much, Father.

Father Sweeney.
His eyes aren't what they used to be.

Well, in the words
of Saint Thomas Aquinas,

"We are much as we see.
Faith is sight and knowledge."

And the old boy certainly knew
what he was talking about.

- Are you, by any chance, Mrs. Fletcher?
- Yes.

There's a telephone call for you.
You can take it in my office.

Oh, thank you very much.

Yes?
Yeah, Mrs. Fletcher?

I'm glad I found you.
This is Sergeant Cooper. How did you know where-

The desk clerk.

Listen, I would take it
as a personal favor if you would come down here right away.

- What's happened?
- Well, they just pulled a guy out of the Connecticut River.

The guy had been dead for several hours,
with two bullets in him- one in his head and one in his heart.

And, oh, yeah- his I.D. Says he is
Carl Cosgrove of Farmington.

[Cooper]
No, no, Shirley, I'm not calling you a liar.

No. Will you listen for a minute?
All I said was, if Norma didn't go to her sister's, she had to go to her cousin's.

Shirley, I don't believe you.

Oh! Hey, hey.
Watch your language.

Hey, you know that I can bust people
for talking like that on the telephone, Shirley.

Will you tell Norma to call me?

So, Mrs. Fletcher, sorry.
Seems like you were right.

Mr. Cosgrove has turned up
on a cold slab in the morgue.

He's also in a warm bed
in Farmington.

I met him right after he'd been
shot in the head and the heart and dumped into the Connecticut River...

and he seemed to have
taken it very well.

You went to that house?
You had no business interfering in a murder investigation.

There was no murder investigation.

You practically threw me
out of this office.

But that was before the dead man
who confessed to me was identified as a professional killer.

Nobody knows he was identified.
How do you know?

I heard it in church.

Sergeant,
something very strange is going on.

Pardon me.
The photo lab sent this over.

Oh, thanks, Arlene.

Mr. Cosgrove?

Uh, that is not
the Mr. Cosgrove that I met.

Time for a house call.

What can I do for you folks?

- You can open the gate.
- No, I can't do that.

Then I'll use you
for a battering ram.

Right.
[Buzzes]

I'm sorry.
Mrs. Cosgrove has gone out.

I'm her brother.
If there's anything I can do to help, I'll-

- What about Mr. Cosgrove?
Has he gone out too? - Uh, yes. They left together.

I don't expect them back
until later this evening.

- I'm glad Mr. Cosgrove is feeling better.
- Well, I'll tell him. I'm sure he'll appreciate your concern.

- Yeah. You don't mind
if I look around a little bit, do you? - Yes, I do mind.

Stop where you are.

That's a bad place to stand, pal.
You're in my way.

- No!
- That's far enough.

Easy with that.
Clasp your hands behind your head. And come back down the stairs.

Slowly.
Get his gun.

You people know the penalty for
interfering with a police officer?

These look authentic.
You better believe it.

You're both in
a hell of a lot of trouble. On the contrary.

Sergeant Cooper.
Mrs. Fletcher.

Please join me
in the living room.

Your insistence on coming here
may have seriously compromised the security of a D.S.S. Safe house.

A safe house?

A house for keeping certain
high-risk people under tight security.

I'm sorry.
I'm not familiar with the initials "D.S.S."

Department of Special Security,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Anyone care for a cup of coffee?

No?

And as you are aware, Sergeant,
our federal authority supersedes the local police.

Your coming here
was an absurd blunder.

Sergeant Cooper
was merely doing his duty.

Unless, of course, your authority
includes investigating a homicide.

Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher.
It sure as hell doesn't.

And I want some answers.

Like, for instance, who is this guy
that you're trying to palm off as Carl Cosgrove?

That's confidential.

I don't know much
about these things,

but it occurs to me
that the oxygen mask...

not only prevented me
seeing the man's face, but also hearing his voice.

Perhaps a foreign accent.

Is he, by any chance,
your current high-risk houseguest?

Colombian. Prime stuff.
The C.I.A. Flies it in once a week.

[Laughs]

I think this is what they
call stonewalling, Mrs. Fletcher.

You must've hit it
right on the nose.

Well, I wouldn't have expected less
from a mystery writer who outwitted a K.G.B. Agent...

and helped a pair of defecting
Russian ballet dancers.

- You have a file on me.
- Maiden name: MacGill.

One marriage
to Frank Fletcher, deceased.

No children. Doesn't drive.
Travels extensively.

Please stop.

I see no reason to continue this
detailed discussion of my personal life.

You opened yourself up for that
when you showed up on our doorstep, Mrs. Fletcher.

We like to know
who we're dealing with.

And if you're thinking of turning this
into a best-seller, forget it.

- [Scoffs]
- Okay, okay, never mind.

Forget all that.

Uh, you.
You tell me about Carl Cosgrove.

There's nothing to tell.
He doesn't exist.

It was a house name
that we used for convenience. There never was a real Carl Cosgrove.

Don't give me that.
I saw his I.D.

Well, we had driver's licenses,
social security and credit cards made to use when we go out.

Okay. Why?

Department regulation.

We never use real identification.

From time to time,
each of us has been Mr. Cosgrove.

Except Mrs. Cosgrove, of course.

Sergeant,
when did you see his I.D.

After we pulled this guy
out of the river.

Do you recognize him?

No.

Well, let me tell you
about this Mr. Cosgrove.

He has a bullet in his head
and his heart, and he's cold.

He's very, very cold.
You lied!

You told me he was
on assignment in Washington.

Careful.
Adams is dead, and you let it happen!

Don't be absurd.

Meeting with somebody he didn't know
in a deserted parking lot was stupid.

You should have stopped him.
I didn't know anything about it.

Now please, both of you-
you think for a moment.

Oh, do we just go on
and try to forget he was ever alive?

Let's get some fresh air.

Okay, who was this Adams,
and what the hell's goin' on here?

That's none of your business.
Well, why don't I make it my business!

Why don't I call headquarters,
get about 12 black-and-whites down here and haul you all in for interrogation.

Maybe I'll get
some straight answers then.

Adams was the code name for
the chief of this security operation.

You identify this man
as Adams?

I'll have to take my cue
from Washington on that. What does that mean?

He may not be officially dead.

They don't get
any deader than that.

Uh, Sergeant, I believe he means
that the agency may not want to admit...

that the head of the special security unit
was, uh, murdered.

Oh.
My hands are tied.

I can't help you
with your investigation.

Is this Adams
a friend of yours or not?

I found his company bearable...

most of the time.

Come on, Mrs. Fletcher.
Let's get out of here before my blood freezes.

Whew!

Sure, I knew you and Adams
were breaking some rules. I've broken a few myself.

It wasn't like that.

We were in love.

That really is a rule breaker.

You guys must've been serious.

We were gonna be married.

[Sobbing]

If you can't control your emotions,
I suggest you leave the department.

Don't you have any feelings?

I don't let them get
the better of my good judgment.

Naturally,
Adams's death was a loss.

Not to everyone.
You got what you wanted. You're in charge.

I'll seek a replacement for you...
at once.

[Sighs]

That beer is mine.

I didn't know
how long I'd have to wait. Please, don't panic.

We have to talk.

Talk to the police.
Tell them why you broke into my room.

You know you really nailed me
on that quotation in the church.

I. Had to look it up,
and it wasn't St. Thomas Aquinas- it was Henry David Thoreau.

The name of the priest
was Kelly, not Sweeney.

Bad connection.

Who are you?
What are you?

- Well, I'm not a burglar.
- And you're not a priest.

I think that's been
fairly well established.

The truth- I work for the D.S.S.

Internal Affairs.

We're the watchdog division that
keeps the rest of the department honest.

I don't suppose you could
show me some identification.

Well, yes, I could, but it all says
that I'm Father Patrick Francis.

- Just call me Francis.
- Is that your real name?

No.

Now, you see?
I'm being perfectly honest with you.

And since you penetrated my cover,
you're going to have to trust me. Why?

Well, now, that's a good question.
How about because I work for the government.

Do you trust everyone
who works for the government?

If I did, I wouldn't be here.

Look, can we talk outside?

In my business,
even the walls have ears.

Not to mention the tables,
the chairs, the lamps. All right.

I'll listen,
but only with people around.

Good. Deal.
Name the place.

I know that this has something
to do with the safe house.

But how is that possible?

You find that bewildering?

Well, for the very good reason
that I met you before I even knew about the safe house.

Let's sit.
Okay.

Now-
Now, what is this all about?

From the very beginning,
please.

Last week, Adams called Internal Affairs
and told me he had reason to suspect a traitor at the safe house.

So I ran a check on each member
of the security team.

Jackson, with his seniority,
shunted aside when Adams, a younger man, was put in charge.

Now he's acting chief.

Van Buren, Ivy Leaguer emeritus.

A real hotshot when he was recruited
off a college campus eight years ago,

but lacking the potential for leadership.

Pierce, the new recruit,
who'd rather follow orders than be forced to make a decision.

And Ellen Cosgrove.

You see, a female presence was necessary
for the Mr. And Mrs. Cosgrove cover.

Maybe they should have
picked someone less attractive. She and Adams developed a thing.

So, each with a minor snag,
a little pull in the wool,

but nothing that says "traitor."

There are two more men
in the house.

One I presume to be the honored guest,
and the other is his personal bodyguard.

Yeah. Right.

Sanchez is bodyguard, factotum
and gofer...

all rolled into one
very unpleasant package.

But he's fiercely loyal to Delgado,
the rebel leader,

who's in this country
to seek additional U.S. Dollars...

to help pay for the overthrow
ofhis government,

which came in
during the last revolution.

And there is a strong suspicion
in certain quarters...

that some of the money from the past
is being siphoned off to a Swiss bank account...

for Delgado's
personal retirement fund.

That's, uh-
That's all very interesting.

But at the moment
I'm more concerned with what happened to Mr. Adams.

Yeah, okay, so Adams called me
late yesterday afternoon...

and said he'd been
contacted by an informant...

who offered to turn over evidence
that would reveal the traitor.

Adams arranged to meet him secretly
at Trinity College last night,

and he told me that he hadn't
confided his plans to anyone.

Itjust didn't smell right to me.

So I persuaded Adams
to wear a sending device so I could track him.

And since he was meeting the guy
at a Catholic college, I decided to wear my priest getup.

It's one of my favorite
covers anyway.

Peoplejust glance at the collar
and they don't notice the face.

I doused my lights
when I got into the parking lot.

I saw Adams
talking to the so-called informant.

After a moment,
they got into the car and drove away.

I followed them at a safe distance,
out of sight,

but well within range
of the tracking device.

But the device suddenly stopped sending
as I was crossing a bridge over the Connecticut River.

I retraced my path
without any luck.

So I stayed in the area of the last transmission,
hoping that I would pick up the signal again, but it never returned.

And then I saw the informant's car.

So I tailed him back into the city,
only to see him crash in front of your hotel.

Ah, so that's why I saw a priest
just when I needed one.

I only wish I could have had a few minutes
with the hit man before he died...

to find out who hired him.

I mean, which member of the security team
picked his name from the department's list.

List?

Of professional assassins?

Copied from another agency.

These things have a way
of making the rounds.

Francis, what do you want of me?

I mean, surely not information,
because mine is very limited.

Well, you see, being a shoofly
with Internal Affairs has its drawbacks.

Oh?

You see, if I walked into the safe house
and identified myself, I'll never get any answers.

They'll just close ranks.

But you've been there and you've met
most of the people in the unit.

You can't be serious.
You have access.

And you can use
your mystery novelist acumen to pick up on things.

So you've checked me out too.

Yes, I have. Why?
Does that bother you?

Okay, when this is over, you remind me
and whatever you don't like, I'll just pluck out of the file...

and it will be
as if it never happened.

Jessica, I want you to find out
what's going on in that safe house,

and I want you to share it with me.

In other words,
you want me to spy on others so that you can fill their files?

[Chuckles]
My answer to that is, no, thank you.

No, please wait.
Let's talk.

Absolutely not.

[Phone Rings]

Now, look, I gave you my answer,
and I'm not gonna change my mind.

Uh, what?

Oh, yes, Mr. Secretary.

I recall meeting you
at the cocktail party at the state department.

Well, it's very nice
talking to you, Mr. Secretary.

[Francis]
Don't get me wrong, Jessica- I don't expect an Academy Award performance.

Just be yourself, only a little more so
to throw them off balance.

[Sighs]
Well, even if I knew what that meant, I wouldn't know how to do it.

Please, don't sweat it.
You'll be terrific.

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot.
I have a little- I have a little gift for you.

A lipstick?
[Chuckles]

How did you know my shade?
It was in your file.

Only this is not a real lipstick.

You twist the bottom clockwise
and it starts a beeper, an emergency beeper.

For what sort of an emergency?

Whatever comes up.

But don't worry.
Our receivers will be close by.

That's not terribly reassuring.

Yeah, this is where I get out.
All right, good luck, Jessica. And hang onto that beeper.

Good morning.

Good morning.
I thought you'd be packing.

I would have been out of here,
butJackson ordered me to stay until Washington sends my replacement.

Where you going?

I won't know
until I receive my orders.

Jackson's report
will be less than glowing.

- Well, if you need somebody
to put in a good word for you- - Thanks.

Will you look who's back.
Can you believe that lady?

Hello.
I don't know if you remember me. I'm Jessica Fletcher.

I'd love to see
your new acting chief. Yes, ma'am. Go right on in.

Your name's on the list.
Oh, it is?

Her name is on the list?

I thinkJackson must have had
too many marshmallows in his cocoa.

Mr. Jackson, you were right.

I do want to write
about your safe house.

I knew it.

A lovely home,
deceptively suburban on the outside,

but on the inside, a veritable
hotbed of international intrigue.

You know, my publisher
thinks it can be a big best-seller.

- With your help, of course.
- My help?

Tell me, how many top secret guests
can you accommodate during a season?

This is incredible.

Mrs. Fletcher, now, I know that you have
excellent contacts in Washington.

One of them called me this morning.

But I think
this is hardly the time...

to polish the image of the department
with a chatty little book.

All the polish in the world
won't put a shine on it when Adams's murder gets out.

You're supposed to be
watching Delgado. Not to worry.

- Without checking with me first?
- Oh, I keep forgetting you're in charge.

Mr. Jackson, it must be very stressful
to carry the burden of leadership...

when it's thrust on you.

"Thrust"? You're talking about
a man who lusted after the job.

I don't think this is the time or the place,
and I was the senior man.

- Adams was younger and smarter,
and they passed you by to pick him. - Just as Mrs. Cosgrove did to you?

Speaking of someone who lusted.

And I suppose
she never turned you on.

Well, I'm beginning
to see your point, Mrs. Fletcher.

This place does have
all the elements of a cheap novel.

[Phone Buzzes]

Hello.

That police sergeant is here,
and he insists on talking to you about a new development in Adams's murder.

I assume you're interested.
Let Sergeant Cooper come in.

- Well, let everybody in. Let's have a party.
- Get the door.

Ooh. Conflict. Your kind of stuff.
Right, Mrs. Fletcher?

Well-
[Chuckles] L-

Look out!
Sanchez, tell me something,

When your comandante
sleeps this late back home,

do you bring coffee
and croissants to his cave?

[Mutters In Spanish]
Ignorante.

Mrs. Fletcher,
what are you doing here?

Well, I suppose
you could call it research.

Sergeant, I believe
your business is with me.

Something about a new development
in the case or what? Yeah.

I ran your friend Adams's prints
through a computer check. Guess what? He's got a rap sheet about a yard long.

- [Cooper] And he's the guy
who was in charge here. - What are you talking about?

I'm talking about arraignment
for counterfeiting, breaking and entering, assault with a deadly weapon.

That old stuff. It should have been
excised from the file long ago.

It was a cover
from a previous assignment.

A cover? What was he pretending
to be- a one-man crime wave?

Comandante!

Wake up!

[Speaking Spanish]

Sanchez?
What's wrong?

Murderers.
You've killed him!

The comandante's dead!

Stay there.
Don't leave!

I can't help you with
any of Adams's past assignments. It's confidential information.

Delgado is dead.
Somebody got him.

That's not possible.

Oh, yeah?

[Beeping]

Surround the house. Now.

- Let's go.
- [Engine Starts]

You figure out
how to get 'em in.

Yes, I need a homicide team.
I need prints. I need lab. I need the whole package.

How could you possibly not see
what was going on inside Delgado's room?

You're sitting
in front of a window.

Sitting for a long time
watching a man sleeping.

- Did you fall asleep, Pierce?
- I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to. It just happened.

- You were on probation.
- The other times it was late at night.

That's why it seemed like a good idea
to take my shift in the morning, so that I could sleep first.

Only it didn't work.

Neither did a Thermos ofblack coffee.
I just conked off.

I guess I deserve
whatever punishment I get.

Don't give me red tape.
I have a stiff upstairs that belongs to Homicide.

Okay.

So how long do you suppose
you were conked out? Okay, just hold it. Hold it.

I know you're probably a big shot
up in Washington, but this is my precinct and I will ask the questions.

Please go ahead.
I share.

Thank you.

- Your name Pierce?
- Yes, sir.

All right, Pierce. When you woke up
from your little snooze, what did you see in the bedroom?

Sanchez leaning over Delgado.

- Doing what?
- Kind of shaking him.

- Was Sanchez facing the mirror?
- No, ma'am. His back was to me.

With his hands
on Senor Delgado's shoulder.

I couldn't see his hands.

So his hands could have been around
Delgado's neck, and he could've been chokin' him to death right in front of you.

Did you see anyone else
come in the room? No, sir, I didn't.

But I didn't see Sanchez come in either.
He was there when I opened my eyes.

Sergeant.
What?

We have to talk.

Pierce, I want to see you
in my office. Yes, sir.

Senor Sanchez,
could you hear what was said in there?

Most of it.
I even understood some of it.

- What didn't you understand?
- The young man.

In my country, he would have been shot
for falling asleep on duty.

You are obviously
a very loyal person.

But I wonder if you are
as loyal to the revolution as you are to your comandante.

I would have
walked through fire for him.

Even if you thought he was getting rich
on the money that should've been spent on food and arms for your country?

That's a lie. He was a good man!
He would not steal from his people!

Jessica, please.
I would stay away from this man.

Yeah, this is the only guy who could have
gotten close enough to Delgado to strangle him.

Mr. Sanchez couldn't see
through the two-way mirror. He didn't even know if he was asleep.

That's true,
but he was the only man-

Well, doesn't it seem foolish
that Sanchez would risk killing Delgado in front of someone who might be watching?

Foolish or not, it happened.
Take him into the storeroom.

[Clears Throat]
And watch him!

Yes, but what still bothers me
is that it wouldn't link this murder to the murder of Adams.

And I am absolutely convinced
that there is a link.

And they call this a safe house.

Adams wouldn't
have let this happen.

I wonder if that was
why he was eliminated.

From what I've heard,
your Mr. Adams was very thorough and very conscientious.

He was.

He also cared about people
and their feelings.

So why didn't he tell me
where he was going the night he was killed?

I don't think he meant to hurt you.

I think he wanted to
prevent any possibility of a leak by not confiding in anyone.

What? What is it?

I think I know who killed him...
and Delgado.

You wanted to see me?

I thought Sergeant Cooper
would have sealed the murder room.

He did.

But I persuaded him to open it
so that I could test a theory.

Will you help me?

Sure. I love games.
What do I have to do?

Just express your opinion.

I can handle that. I was film critic
on my college newspaper. Roll it.

I believe that the killer
was assigned to the safe house,

where he possibly felt
that he'd reached a dead end.

That would make him restless
and maybe looking for something better.

Well, that was Jackson's
frame of mind.

The timing was right for someone
from Delgado's country to contact him.

I'd imagine a large sum of American money
was offered for the assassination of Delgado.

But first the killer
had to get rid of Adams,

who kept a very watchful eye
on the safe house,

and that meant contacting a hit man.

Well, Jackson did have access
to the department's list.

- Oh, you know about that?
- I heard about it.

How did he sucker Adams?
With a scenario.

First he stirred up suspicion
of treachery in the ranks.

Then he told the hit man to call Adams
and offer information about the traitor, naming a secret meeting place.

Real cute.
I didn't know Jackson had it in him.

Mr. Van Buren, we both know
we're not talking aboutJackson.

You're the one they contacted.

You're the one who set it up.

Who's in the room behind the mirror-
the cop or the shoofly?

Both.

Well, I'm sorry to have
wasted your time, gentlemen.

She's got the wrong boy.

I'd be very surprised.

The proof came
from a very reliable source.

Really?

What source?
You, Mr. Van Buren.

Something you said toJackson
about Adams.

Meeting with somebody he didn't know
in a strange parking lot was stupid. You should have stopped him.

Since Adams didn't tell anyone
but Francis where he was going,

only the hit man and the person
who set up the meeting...

could know that Adams
was meeting a stranger in a parking lot.

And I suppose I killed Delgado
with Pierce sitting there behind the mirror watching.

No.
I'm sure you didn't.

Is she saying he didn't do it?
Listen.

You set up Pierce in advance,
probably by drugging his coffee every night...

and making sure
he'd be caught sleeping on duty.

And last night you increased the dose.

It won't wash.

I can account for every minute of my time
while Pierce was on duty.

You didn't kill him
during Pierce's shift.

You did it earlier, during yours.

You switched with Pierce,
letting him take the morning shift,

telling him you were doing him a favor
so he'd have less trouble staying awake.

Actually, you wanted the night shift
so you could be there when Delgado fell asleep.

That way you could approach him
without fear of anyone seeing you choke the life out ofhim.

After you pulled up the blankets
so it would look like he was sleeping,

you returned to the room behind the mirror
and waited for Pierce to come on duty.

Later, when Sanchez found the body,
Pierce admitted he'd been asleep.

Everyone assumed the murder
had taken place during Pierce's shift.

Well, your theory...

turned out
to be better than I thought.

Why did you do it?

She got it right-
for the money.

Or would you prefer I did it
because I believed in a cause?

Either way, it was murder.

I finished dictating my statement,
and I'm ready to leave, finally.

Sorry to see you go.
By the way, your Washington friend, Mr. Francis, called-

[Phone Rings]

Cooper.
I can't talk now, Norma.

He said Van Buren is talking his head off
about the people who paid him to kill Delgado and a lot of-

Uh, i-isn't your wife's name Norma?

Yeah. Why?

Oh!

Trace that call!

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