All language subtitles for MSW s06e12 Goodbye Charlie.eng

For all we know,
this old guy could be dead by now.

Too bad you can't prove it.
As his only relative, the fortune would go to you.

How many zeroes in fortune?

FEMALE NARRATOR:
Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

That unidentified corpse
is not Uncle Charlie.

It isn't?
But it will be

as soon as we
identify the body.

You're not the first people
to lay claim to John Doe.

You're not even the second.

He's right.

The shoe's too small.
It was murder.

Honey, this isn't
going to look good on your résumé.

(TYPEWRITER CLACKING)

Oh, hello.

You've caught me
at the tail end of my newest book.

I've been at it
almost ten hours a day for the past week

and I am sore from my fingers
to my back

and elsewhere.

You know, every time I start
a new novel, it's an adventure

and I really never know
what I'm gonna come up against.

Some are pure agony,
like having your wisdom teeth yanked

by a sadist with
a pair of pliers.

And others just flow
from the typewriter like sap from a maple tree.

(LAUGHS)

That's the way it was
with Good-Bye Charlie.

I wish they were
all this much fun.

Our hero...
Well, now let me see,

is hero the right word
for Frank Albertson?

Maybe not.

I promise you,
he's not very heroic.

Actually, he's a lost soul
looking for one good shot at the brass ring.

The story opens
on a spring day in sunny Hollywood,

land of orange groves,
movie stars and private detectives.

(TIRES SQUEALING)

Smile and say,
"Cheating."

(SCREAMS)

Lousy private eye!

(FRANK GRUNTING)

(WOMAN SCREAMS)

MAN: Well, thank you,
Mrs. Albertson.

When you brought me
into the bedroom I didn't expect anything like this.

SUNNY: Well, I hope
you're not disappointed.

Oh, no, no.
I mean,

you've been absolutely
incredible. Really. You've made my day.

Sunny, I'm home!

Oh, hi, honey.
We're in the bedroom. Come on in.

(CLEARS THROAT)

Who are you?
And what are you doing with my Uncle Charlie's watch?

Honey, he was just
looking at it.

(EXCLAIMS)

What happened to you?

Business.
Who is this guy?

A lawyer.

Ray Fleischer.
Rathbone, Gilder and Hellman.

Lawyer?

Look, if you're gonna
tell me I'm gonna be sued, I was just doing my job.

Honey, just listen to him.

We are the executors
of the estate of the late Elizabeth Flack of Detroit.

She's left everything to
one Charles Kenneth Albertson.

Uncle Charlie?
Why would she do a thing like that?

Her will refers to him
as an old love.

I was just showing him
some of the stuff Uncle Charlie left behind.

And look...

The inscription
on the back of this old broken watch says,

"To Charlie with
love from Liz." It's proof.

Look at this picture
of Uncle Charlie in his sailor suit.

FRANK: Well, the faces
are a little blurry, hon.

Read what it says
on the back.

"Me and Liz, 1943."

I also showed Mr. Fleischer
some of the other stuff Uncle Charlie left behind.

The monogrammed money clip,
the expired library card,

the monogrammed
cigar clipper,

and also Uncle Charlie's
Navy dog tags.

Sit down.
Thank you.

Did you forget about
the two-headed nickel and the loaded dice?

Frank...

Mr. Albertson, I am convinced
that Charles Kenneth Albertson is your uncle.

Now I'd appreciate it
very much if you could tell me where I could find him.

I really don't know.

Look, the guy
dropped in for a weekend and stayed three years.

That's 36 months of eating
my food, drinking my beer, and wearing my shirts.

I got a little fed up.
I gave him 100 bucks, put him on a bus.

How long ago was that?

I don't know. Two,
maybe two-and-a-half years.

We got a couple of
Christmas cards from him.

The last one had
a return address in Reno.

But when I sent him a card,
it came back stamped "Not known at this address."

Yeah. I mean,
for all we know, this old guy could be dead by now.

Too bad you can't prove it.
As his only relative, the fortune would go to you.

How many zeroes in fortune?

In this one, six.

Six?

Well... Hey, I mean,
I loved the old guy. Really.

But, I mean,
if he's dead, he's dead.

Who do I see?

Here's my card.
Give me a call in about five years.

Five years?
Well, you haven't heard from him in two

and he can't legally be
declared dead for seven. Sorry.

Wait. Wait a second.
Ray, listen...

Goodbye, good luck.

Goodbye. Thank you.

Lawyers.

(FRANK LAUGHING)

Frank...
Frank, what's so funny?

(LAUGHING)

What was so funny,
at least to Frank's mind,

was the irony
of the situation.

For three years he
and Sunny had supported this old moocher.

Now, suddenly,
Charlie was rich

and they were facing
repossession and dispossession,

not to mention the loss
of Frank's one and only client

because of the way
he'd bungled the case.

JESSICA: Luckily, the client
was a forbearing woman

who decided to give Frank
another chance.

(LAUGHING)

Hey, honey.
Yeah.

Isn't that the guy
we saw yesterday?

I told you we should have
gone someplace else.

I'll kill him.

(TIRES SQUEALING)

I don't get it.

Why should I be interested
in some poor guy who's been hit by a train?

Oh, surely you must
be able to think of one reason

why we both might be
interested in him?

Uncle Charlie?
Uncle Charlie. Yes! Yes!

Yes!
Frank, Frank, Frank!

Stop it!
What's the matter?

It's horrible!
Poor old Uncle Charlie!

Honey,
that unidentified corpse is not Uncle Charlie.

It isn't?

Honey, the body was found
on a railroad track outside of Huckabee, Nevada.

It's about 50 miles
east of Reno.

You remember Reno,
where Uncle Charlie's last Christmas card was from?

Sun, it's not Charlie.

But it will be
as soon as we identify the body.

Oh, Frank,
you won't get away with it.

Somebody must know
who the person really is... Was.

John Doe has been
on ice for three days.

Not one person,
not a relative, a friend,

and a neighbor has
come forward to claim that body for burial.

If nobody claims it
by noon tomorrow,

it's gonna get dumped
into an unmarked grave.

(EXCLAIMS. IN DISGUST)
But, if we claim it,

he's gonna get a funeral,
and a decent burial, and a tombstone.

With Uncle Charlie's
name on it.

Honey, look, if Charlie did
drop dead out there somewhere without our knowing about it,

maybe he got planted
in some potter's field in an unmarked grave.

The stone we get for
this poor sucker will serve as a monument to Charlie.

He'd want it that way.

(PHONE RINGING)

Coroner's Office.

No, this is his assistant,
Lon Ainsley.

Mr. Yamoto
is out of the office. Can I help you?

(IN A SOUTHERN ACCENT)
Yes, sir. I was reading about this

poor John Doe fella,

and I got the crazy notion
he might be my brother Bubba.

You cannot make an
identification over the phone.

All right, sir,
just give me a yes or no.

John Doe... Rather
my brother Bubba,

he's got a tattoo
of Betty Boop on his right forearm.

It's hard to tell what
was on John Doe's forearm.

But there are
no tattoos anywhere else.

No tattoos, huh?

Well, what about
a dueling scar on his left cheek?

Let's just forget
about his face.

How old is your Bubba?

Oh, well, sir,
he's older than me

which, I would guess
would make him around 40?

Sorry. This man is old
enough to be your dada.

You have a resonance
in your voice that says

you're a tall, muscular man,
Mr. Ainsley.

(STAMMERING) I do try to
take care of myself.

Now, is your missing father
a tall man?

He's on the short side.
About 5'6".

Now if it wasn't
for the train, what sort of shape would he be in?

Well, not so great,
he's on the paunchy side.

LON: Very, very good!
I think we may have a match here.

Now give me
one more particular.

I can't think of anything.

Well, there is something
about his right leg.

What exactly?

It's wooden.

And we were so close.

Well, I hope your daddy
turns up. Bye, now.

Bye.

Voila. There you have it.
Meet John Doe.

These stats add up to
a delicious six zeroes.

Great.

Hey, by the way,
how did you come up with short and paunchy?

Do you have some
sort of second sight I don't know about?

No.

Actually, I was describing
Uncle Charlie.

Well, having pumped
the coroner's assistant

dry of every drop of
pertinent data on the unclaimed corpse,

Frank and Sunny
headed north to Nevada,

unaware that they were
about to lock horns

with Huckabee's unique version
of law and order.

I understand you folks
drove all the way up from L.A. Last night.

That's right.
Frank Albertson, Sheriff. This is my wife, Sunny.

Something wrong?

It's his back.

We had to sleep in our car,
Frank had the front.

Yeah. Bucket seats
with the stick-shift in the middle.

We were going to
stay at a motel, but it was closed.

(CHUCKLING) Yeah. Old Roscoe
believes in early to bed, early to rise.

Says anybody
sneaking into town late at night

is up to no good.
Have a seat, folks.

Well, your...

Your identification was
first-rate.

Not much I can tell you
about the accident.

John Doe was
pretty badly mangled.

The force of the train
knocked him right out of his shoes. They were...

They were found
beside the body.

If it's any
consolation to you, it was quick.

Can you think of
any reason why your uncle would have been

near the railroad track
here in Huckabee?

Yes, Sheriff, I can.

I don't know how
many times Uncle Charlie used to tell us about

the Great Depression
of the 1930s.

He was out of work.
Couldn't get a job.

And like so many of the other
unemployed at the time,

Uncle Charlie became a hobo.

He traveled across the country
in empty boxcars, living off the land

and sometimes even stealing.

Mostly chickens,

which he cooked over a spit
in some hobo forest.

Jungle.

Then you're saying that
he got killed trying to hop on that freight train?

He went back to
his old way of life.

But he just couldn't cut it.

Do you know of any reason
why he didn't have any identification on him?

Well, what does
a hobo need with a wallet?

His pockets were empty.

A man usually has
something in his pockets.

Are we almost finished?

Yeah, that'll do it for me.

Unless, of course,
you wanna view the remains.

No!
No! No...

I think we'd prefer to
remember Uncle Charlie the way we saw him last.

In one piece.

Yeah.

Oh, but listen, if it's okay,
we would like to arrange for a decent burial

right here in town.

Normally, that
would be the procedure.

But you see,
there's a flag on this play.

You're not the first people
to lay claim to John Doe.

You're not even the second.

You're the third.

What are we going to do now?

Guess you'll have
to take a number.

FRANK: Oh! Oh, Sunny,
that is so good.

Oh, yeah, right there.
Oh, don't stop! Oh...

Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah.

Maybe we should just
forget it and go home.

Oh, now that would
not be fair to the memory of Uncle Charlie, hon.

I mean, the man spent
three long years living with us.

At no time did he
ever say forget it and go home.

He didn't have a home.

I know. And if we can't
pay the rent, we're not gonna have one, either.

Oh, that is the spot.
That... Yes.

You know, honey,
it's just that

if it was only one other
person identifying the body,

I would say, "Yeah, okay,
we gave it our best shot, let's hit the trail."

But two other people making
different identifications?

Uh-uh. Only one
of those people can be telling the truth.

Which means the odds are
both of them are lying.

And we aren't?

Listen, hon,
would you roll me over and get me a shirt, please.

What are you gonna do now?

Oh, well, first,
I'm gonna try to get up.

And then, I'm gonna go
look for a man

whose name I read
upside down on the Sheriff s desk.

(MEN SINGING)

(MEN WHOOPING)

Hi.

Say, I was told I could
find a Mr. Bart Mahoney in here.

Yeah, well, that depends on
who wants to find him.

Mr. Mahoney.

I think this'll explain it.

Yeah, let's see.

BART: Private eye, huh?
Frank Albertson.

Well, what can
we do for you?

What do you know about
a man called John Doe

who got himself hit
by a train?

Well, I do know
that it rearranged him pretty good.

(LAUGHING)
What are you drinking?

Beer. Just beer.
Beer. Hey, Jake.

Draw one
for my friend here.

Mr. Mahoney,
according to my information, you identified the body.

Well, that's right.
His name was Roper Bailey.

Everyone here knew
old Roper, right guys? You all know old Roper?

Yeah, except for you.

Roper was a devoted father
and a sole-provider

for his grieving daughter,
Marcia Mae, my client.

And would your client
happen to be the railroad or the train that ran him down?

You're gonna sue, right?

Well, let me put it
to you this way. That signal light was

out of order at
the nearest crossing

when Roper decided to
take a shortcut home.

I mean, now how was he to know
that there was a freight train

roaring down the track
behind him, huh?

The light was only
part of that signal. There was a bell.

Did I fail to mention
Roper was deaf?

He lost his hearing
when he was a rodeo performer.

Some ornery bull went
and just tossed him, went right on his head.

Boy, it sounds like
all your bases are covered.

Well, you see,
by not replacing that signal light at the crossing,

the railroad as good as
murdered that fine man.

That hardworking, that decent
and loving daddy of that tragic little orphan girl,

Marcia Mae Bailey.

John Doe's face is gone
and most of his body is torn up, too.

Now how is little Marcia Mae
gonna prove that that's her daddy?

Well, now, don't you think
if a child says it's her daddy,

a jury of honest, decent folks
with honest, decent feelings is gonna call her a liar?

Son, you sure got
a warped view of our legal system.

FRANK: Damn!

(DOOR SLAMS)

Frank, what's wrong?
Didn't you find him?

Yeah, I found him.

Bart Mahoney,
the local shyster. The man's a toad.

Calm down.
It's not that bad.

Yes, it is.
The man's trying to steal our stiff!

Poor baby.
You need a nap.

No, I don't.
You weren't there. You didn't hear what he said.

He's got this client
and he's going to...

(PHONE RINGING)

(MOANS)

Wrong number.

SHERIFF: Mr. Albertson?
Sheriff Ten Eyck.

Hello, Sheriff.

I just got a call
from Bart Mahoney.

He said you met him
a little while ago.

I bumped into him, yes.

Yeah, well, he's kind of
peeved about that.

Said you told him
you worked for the railroad.

I gave him my card.

Yeah, but you didn't tell him
you were laying claim to John Doe.

He didn't ask.
Look, Sheriff, if...

You come on down to my office
in about ten minutes.

I want you to meet
a little lady that might be a kin of yours.

I just thought it was time
that the two of you

and Tilly Bascomb here
got together.

Why, Sheriff?

Well, with you claiming
that John Doe is your Uncle Charlie,

Ms. Bascomb claiming
it's her husband...

That would make her
your Aunt Tilly.

Do you happen to have
a picture of your Uncle Charlie by any chance?

I have.

Do you still have
that snapshot of Mort?

This is Uncle Charlie.

And this is Mort.

SUNNY:
That's not Uncle Charlie.

I can't tell
anything from this.

It's so blurred
the sailor doesn't even have any features.

Neither did John Doe.

That didn't keep you
from swearing it was Mort.

Well, it just has to be.

My husband has insomnia.

Many a night he took
long walks so that he could make himself sleep better.

On the railroad tracks?

Well, why not?

They're not far
from our house.

It's quiet
and peaceful there.

Safer, too.

Easier to spot rattlesnakes
when they crawl out of the brush onto the tracks.

Oh, yuck!

Ms. Bascomb, what was
your husband doing

hopscotching rattlers
in the moonlight without any I.D. In his pockets?

Well, I'm sure that
he had his wallet when he left the house.

I have no idea
what happened to it.

Unless the train's
velocity whipped it out of his pocket.

FRANK: Yeah. Well, then it's
still probably there.

Sheriff, I suggest we organize
a search party to comb that area of the tracks.

My deputy's gone
over that ground, he didn't find anything.

Why would you wanna search
for her husband's wallet?

Well, I believe John Doe
is my Uncle Charlie.

But if he's not,
I'd like to find out the truth so I can get on with my life.

If that's all right
with you, Sheriff?

Well, it would be,

except I only got
two deputies available.

And we spent a lot of hours
out there the first time.

Hey, does Huckabee
have a pony league baseball team?

Sure does.

My son-in-law is the coach.

FRANK: Think they might like
to make a few extra bucks?

What kid wouldn't?

I'll have them turn out
at sun up.

(CRICKETS CHIRPING)

Stop!
What?

I'm sure I saw
something slither.

Did it rattle?
I don't think so.

Well, when it rattles,
let me know.

Look, here's a good
place to start.

Shine the light in here.

All right.

First the monogrammed
cigar clipper.

(GRUNTS)

They want proof,

we'll give them proof.

Well, having salted
the railroad tracks

with Uncle Charlie's last
few remaining possessions,

Frank approached
the following morning's search with ill-concealed enthusiasm.

JESSICA:
His joy was short-lived.

The Huckabee Hornets
had problems hitting the curve ball,

and the fastball,
and they weren't all that good at judging pop-ups.

They were definitely
not very good at finding the obvious.

How come she doesn't sweat?

Tilly.

You shouldn't be out
in this heat.

Let me take you
back to the office.

I wanna stay.

They're looking
for Mort's wallet.

Yeah, well, they should have
found that days ago.

Who's the man with
Mrs. Bascomb, Sheriff?

That's her cousin,
Jerry Wilbur.

Works for her husband's
microchip company.

Matter of fact,
he's been running it ever since Mort disappeared.

(BIRD SQUAWKING)

Ed, I object to this
high-handed, unauthorized

trampling of
the scene of the crime.

Yeah. What crime is that?

Well,

the railroad's gross
negligence in the untimely death of Roper Bailey.

Roper Bailey?
That old drunk?

Oh, wait a second now,
that dead old drunk.

Just zip it up, Bart.
You ain't talking to no jury now.

I authorized this search.

Mr. Mahoney, hi.
So glad you could make it.

Where is your client?

Oh, wow!

Bart! Why do I have to
sit in that refrigerator freezing my butt off?

Morning, Marcia Mae.

So that's poor, tragic
little Marcia Mae who's gonna make a jury weep, huh?

Damn it!

I told you
to wait in the car!

(EXCLAIMS IN PAIN)

BOY: Hey, Sheriff,
I found something over here.

Hey, we found something!

They found Mort's wallet.
Sheriff, look at this.

I found something, too,
Sheriff!

How many wallets
did they find out there?

This is what we got, sir.

It's too bad all those kids
handled all that stuff.

Now we can't get
any clear finger prints.

There's an inscription
in the watch that says, "To Charlie with love from Liz."

Mmm-hmm.

SHERIFF: "C.K.A."

"C.K.A."

"Charles Kenneth Albertson."

Uncle Charlie.

I was just wondering
how many things I had in my pocket

with my initials on them.

The answer is none.

Well, you know, Uncle Charlie
was having a lot of trouble with his memory.

And I guess he felt
it needed to be primed a bit.

Uh-huh.

So, all of this stuff just
flew out of his pockets when the train hit him.

Well, what other
explanation is there?

See, my deputies searched
up and down that track

right after
the body was discovered,

and they didn't find
diddley-squat.

Well, you know how kids are,
they never miss a thing.

Their eyes are so sharp
and they're so close to the ground.

Look, Sheriff,
I don't mean to hurry you,

but we are getting
just a bit concerned about the fact that

Uncle Charlie has
not been buried yet.

(SHERIFF CLEARS THROAT)

All right.

Take this over to Jack Yamoto,
he's the coroner.

He'll give you
a proper death certificate

and he'll turn over
your uncle to you.

Thank you, Sheriff.
Thank you for all your help.

Appreciate it.

Uncle Charlie
thanks you, too.

SUNNY: The first thing
you have to do is get rid of that car.

It's a ghastly color.

FRANK:
It's a detective's car, honey, nondescript.

What are you gonna buy
with the inheritance? A brown Ferrari?

No, a red one. 'Cause I'm
out of the business.

(DOOR CLOSES)

Mr. And Mrs. Albertson?

Yes, we are.

The Coroner's expecting you.
He had to step out for just a moment.

You may wait in his office.

Oh, you're Mr. Ainsley.

Well, yes.
How did you know?

I'm good with names.

Stick around and
she'll guess your weight.

Excuse me.

I'm sorry. I heard his voice
and that's the first thing that popped into my head.

We are too close
to screw it up now.

What if he
recognized my voice?

He didn't.
He just thinks you're weird.

And so do I.

Hey, look.

(SUNNY SCREAMS)

(LAUGHS)

That's Junior.
He died 100 years ago out in the desert.

Hello, I'm Jack Yamoto.
Hey, Jack, Frank Albertson.

And my wife, Sunny.
Glad to meet you.

And I have this
from the Sheriff for you.

Okay,
please, be seated.

Thank you.

No, no, not you.
I want you seated at my desk.

I've got some documents
for your signature here.

Okay.

Now, sign each of these
here, here, and here.

You got it.

JACK:
That's one down.

Why do I feel like
I'm buying a car, Jack?

JACK: (CHUCKLING)
That's good.

(GASPS)

Thank you, Mr. Albertson.

Oh! Here's a card
for the Bright Haven Mortuary and Cemetery.

They'll treat you right.
Mention my name and they'll give you a deal on a coffin.

You can also get
a bargain plot, too,

if you don't mind
the sunny side of a hill.

Oh, Uncle Charlie
loved to lay out.

Oh, he'll be laid out
for a good long time.

Here's a copy of
the death certificate for Charles Kenneth Albertson.

I'll have the mortuary
arranged for the picking up of the remains. And...

Do you want flowers?

No, thank you.

But Uncle Charlie
had an allergy. So, no flowers...

In a hurry, are you,
Mr. Albertson?

Well, yes, Sheriff,
we have a funeral to arrange.

Just after you left my office,
I got a phone call from

Sheriff Walldecker
over in Dry Flats.

His deputy brought
in a vagrant last night.

Seems that this vagrant
had found a very expensive-Iooking wallet,

about $200 in it.

A wallet?
Mmm-hmm.

Says he found it
by the railroad track near Huckabee

right after the accident.

The fella's name in the wallet
was Mort Bascomb.

We know that 'cause
he had his name on his driver's license and about

a dozen credit cards.

See, what I don't
understand now, sir,

is if John Doe
is Mort Bascomb,

how is it your Uncle Charlie's
belongings are scattered

all over the landscape
out there?

Would you turn around, sir?

Appreciate it.

Honey, this isn't
going to look good on your résumé.

Wait, don't I even get
to call a lawyer?

Well, there ain't
but one in town.

Bart Mahoney?
Yeah.

Well, you can call him
if you want to.

Strikes me
as a conflict of interest.

Look, Sheriff,
you've gotta believe me, this is flim-flam. That...

That wallet was planted.
Is that so?

Yeah.

Well, whose word are you
gonna take, mine or some wallet-stealing vagrant's?

Supper's at 6:00.

We're having pork chops,
mashed potatoes, rice pudding for dessert.

Hey, wait a minute!
Sheriff...

I know

(DOOR SLAMMING SHUT)
My rights!

Hi. I'm Al Capone.

You can't have my shoes.

Well, you can't
have mine, either.

You wanna shake on that,
or wait for contracts?

You're a wise guy, ain't you?

Yeah, when I'm nervous
or scared.

Right now I'm both.

Hell, kid.
I won't hurt you. I'm Clarence.

Hi. Frank.

You said you was Al.

It's an alias.

(PAPER RUSTLING)

Why are you stuffing paper
into your shoes?

They're too big.

What would you stuff in them?

What would you do
if they were too small?

Then I wouldn't be able to
wear them, would I?

What a dummy!

A dumb dummy!

Dummy!

Hey! Hey, Sheriff!

Run that by me again.

I said, if he was
knocked out of his shoes and dragged by the train,

the shoes would be
100 yards down the track, not laying beside him.

They were left there
to make it look like he was walking on the tracks.

And then he was probably
dumped on the tracks just before the train was due.

That train comes through
about the same time every night, doesn't it?

Yeah, but...
Okay,

that's when the killer noticed
that John Doe was in his stocking feet.

So he took off his own shoes,

intending to put them
on John Doe's feet,

but the shoes were too small.

He couldn't jam
John Doe's feet into them.

But the victim had
to have shoes.

That's when he decided to
move back from the tracks

and just let the train
rumble over poor John Doe.

And then after the train was
gone, he left the shoes with the torn-up body.

Thanks.

He's right.

The shoe's too small.
It was murder.

JAKE: Yeah,
that Mahoney's a blow-hard.

Always was,
even in high school.

Yeah, I noticed
when I was in here before

you had trouble keeping
a straight face when he was spouting off.

Yeah. I been thinking about
getting me a pair of earplugs and sticking them in

every time I see Mahoney
walk through that door.

Yeah, you really turned off
when he started talking about Roper Bailey.

He's little Marcia Mae's
missing daddy, right?

Yeah, Roper's Marcia's daddy.

All that stuff about

Roper Bailey being
Marcia Mae's sole provider...

That's USDA, prime bull.

Marcia Mae's been providing
for herself

since she was 16 years old
with no problem.

Mahoney know about that?

(JAKE LAUGHS)

Who do you think
pays her rent?

Bart Mahoney, that's who.
And her grocery bill, too.

See, bartending ain't
all I do.

I got me a little
grocery store,

and Marcia Mae,
she does all her food shopping there.

See, she lives right
across the street.

You know, she never
pulls her blinds down.

That girl's
some piece of work.

I'll bet. So, she does
her food shopping at your store.

Yeah.
She always buys the same stuff.

She buys diet soda
for herself, she buys Mexican beer for her daddy.

She buys chewing gum
for herself, she buys chewing tobacco for her daddy.

You know, it's been
five days since they found old John Doe

out on the tracks.

Mr. Bart Mahoney,
big-brain lawyer,

well, he's saying

that John Doe is
none other than Roper Bailey hisself.

That is purely bogus.

You know that for a fact?

What I know is that
Marcia Mae come into my food store yesterday.

You wanna guess
what she bought?

Mexican beer
and chewing tobacco.

Son, you win
the worm in the bottom of the bottle of tequila.

I was in the store
this morning and saw her make the purchases.

This is the receipt.

Today's date,
along with a list of what she bought,

including Mexican beer
and chewing tobacco,

and Marcia Mae's signature
and charge number.

Uh-huh.

I'll tell you
what this proves.

If we find Roper Bailey
in Marcia Mae's attic

with a six-pack
and a spittoon,

she didn't have no reason
to kill John Doe.

See, I don't think
Mahoney thought up

his scheme to defraud
the insurance company

until he read that story
in the newspaper

and realized, "Hey,
nobody's claiming John Doe."

Could be.

He arrived
the same day you did.

Which leaves
the widow Bascomb.

Yeah, but why?

Maybe they weren't
getting along

and she would have lost
too much to a divorce.

You did say something about
a micro-chip company...

Yeah.

A small company,
large government contracts.

And now Tilly gets it all.

With her cousin,
Jerry, the hunk, in charge.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Who is it?

Sheriff Ten Eyck, ma'am.

Like to ask you
a couple of questions.

You get out!
Get out of here!

What? What?

(STAMMERING)
What is this, a police state?

You just can't
barge into a lady's bedroom.

Looks like Jerry's
a kissing cousin.

At the very least.

Now you just listen to me,
before I get a little bit testy.

I wanna talk to you
about your husband's murder.

Just whose idea was it?

I told you we wouldn't
get away with this! Didn't I tell you that?

You idiot!

Well, I didn't kill anybody.
I didn't kill anybody!

He killed him!
He killed my husband.

Excuse me, ma'am,
would you mind... Appreciate it.

Didn't you hear me?

He killed Mort!

Yes, ma'am, I heard you.

And you know what,
he buried him in the backyard!

(TILLY SOBBING)
Oh, God!

That's Mort Bascomb all right.

But, Frank, if that's Mort,
then who's John Doe?

SHERIFF:
According to Tilly's confession, 27 pages,

the longest I've ever seen,

she talked her second cousin,
once-removed, Jerry Wilbur,

into killing Mort
so they could take over his business.

They didn't decide to
get married until a lot later.

But the trouble is,
she had told people

that Mort was on
a business trip.

She couldn't
very well dig him up with three.38's in him.

So they decided to
claim your John Doe

as Mort so that
Tilly could go public as a widow.

And after a decent interval,
she'd be able to remarry.

But how did Mort's
wallet get next to the railroad tracks?

Well, Jerry put it there
so my deputies would find it

and I would take it that

Mort was John Doe.

But the bum found it first.

Well, son,

looks like you're
the only claimant left.

You know, about that,
Sheriff...

Well, the fact is,
I'm sick and tired of all this business

so if you want him,
you can have him.

We can?

Honey, did you hear that?

We can have Uncle Charlie.

I still have some
strong doubts about that,

but you did give
the best description.

And it'll save the county
the expense of a burial.

So, I'm gonna give you back
this death certificate I took away from you.

I suggest a brief ceremony
and a quick departure.

Be sure and shut the door
on your way out.

(FRANK AND SUNNY GROANING)

FRANK: Hello, house.

I am going to bed
and sleeping for a week.

And you, young lady,
are more than welcome

to join me as long as
you promise not to touch me for the next 168 hours.

Mmm-hmm.

Call the lawyer first.

Oh, honey, it's Detroit.
It's too late. He won't be up.

I know, but leave a message
on his machine.

And tell him Uncle Charlie
had a lovely funeral.

All right.

(GLASS BREAKING)

Uncle Charlie!

(SUNNY SCREAMING)

(SHUSHING)

If I knew you were gonna
make a fuss like that, I wouldn't have come back,

I'm looking for my stuff
I left here.

My gold watch, my cigar
clipper, my lucky dice,

my dog tags.

Where the hell
have you been? We gave you up for dead.

Oh, yeah?

Hey, I still got
a few good years left in me.

I gotta use the john.

That's funny. That's funny.

Yeah, that's funny.

But Uncle Charlie is dead.
He's...

I have the death certificate
right here. No, Frank.

But you can't
kill a man twice. That's all I'm saying,

is no one would ever know.

You're not serious?

No, of course
I'm not serious.

But who would ever know?

Charlie, baby, I'm back.

Oh, hello.

You must be
Francis and Sandra.

I'm Doreen, Charlie's wife.

(TOILET FLUSHING)

CHARLIE: Well,
I see you've met the little woman.

Ain't she a pip?

The Porsche is all gassed
and ready to go.

Porsche?

Yeah, if we take the limo,
we'll have to take the chauffeur.

And who needs him
on a honeymoon?

Say, did I tell you kids
that I came into some money?

Show them the rock,
sweetheart. Look at that.

DOREEN:
If you think that's big, you ought to see my lavaliere.

It's the darnedest thing.

An old girlfriend of mine
in Detroit died and left me millions.

Now I don't see how
me and Doreen's gonna spend it all,

but we're sure gonna try.

DOREEN: (LAUGHS)
We're on our way to Las Vegas.

Of course. Where else?

I just come by
to tell you kids that

you don't have to worry about
old Uncle Charlie anymore.

Goodbye, Frank.

Nice seeing you again.

And, Frank,
you look a little peaked.

Try not to work so hard,
all right?

Hurry, Charlie,
we'll miss Wayne Newton.

Oh, who could miss that guy,
he's terrific.

Isn't he wonderful?

Uncle Charlie
and Aunt Doreen.

Who would have known?

Epilogue.

With Charlie on his way
to Vegas with Doreen,

and Mort Bascomb disinterred
from Tilly's backyard,

and Roper Bailey back
drinking Mexican beer,

a nagging question
keeps coming to mind.

Who was the John Doe
found by the railroad tracks,

and more to the point,
who killed him?

Well, the pieces
all fell into place

about three days later
when an ad appeared in local newspapers

all over the country.

JESSICA: "Reward Offered.
$100,000 for information

"regarding the whereabouts
of Jason T. Rucker,

"President of Santa Carmela
Savings and Loan,

"who disappeared on June 4th,

"one day prior to
a scheduled audit by state banking officials.

"Rucker is 66 years old,
"Rucker is 66 years old,

"gray-haired, heavyset..."
"gray-haired, heavyset, about five-ten,

"last seen wearing
a brown windbreaker,

"tan slacks and
white oxford shoes.

"Also wanted for
questioning is the man Rucker was last seen with

"identified as
a freight-train hopping hobo

"named Clarence Dobkin."

Repair and Synchronization by
Easy Subtitles Synchronizer 1.0.0.0