All language subtitles for Father Dowling Mysteries S03E07 The Murder Weekend Mystery

Flight 827 to San
Francisco International...

is now boarding at Gate 18.

I'm Clement Mitchell.

Professor Mitchell, Jack
Patton sent me to meet you.

- Here let me get your bag.
- Thank you.

I've arranged for a limo
to take you to the resort.

Resort?

This is my first time,
but it's my understanding

that Mr. Patton always holds his
murder-mystery weekends at his home.

I rented a car.

Well, Jack has
something special planned

for his guests this weekend,
professor, but it's a mystery.

- Just like one of his books.
- Heh.

There's a letter in here
that will explain everything,

- and I'll take care of your rental car.
- Okay. Heh, heh.

Enjoy yourself, professor.

- Have a nice time.
- Thank you very much.

I'm Clement Mitchell.
You're holding a car for me.

Yes, we are, sir.
And you're in Lot B.

- Are you here on business or pleasure?
- Business.

But it's always a pleasure.

All set, Steve.

Hold it there, Father.

I've got an extra pair of pajamas
and a sweater just in case.

In case of what, Marie?

You've already packed a pair
of pajamas and two sweaters.

Don't forget the six
pairs of socks, Frank.

Yeah. Mr. Sweeny, my first husband,
used to say: "When a man's on the road,

he can't have too many socks."

Mr. Sweeny was a travelling
salesman in his youth.

- Hmm.
- And his feet were always warm.

And clean, ha, ha.

Marie, I'm only gonna
be gone for two nights.

You don't have to make a
big production out of this.

But it is a big
production, Frank.

How many people get
invited to one of Jack Patton's

- famous murder-mystery weekends?
- Absolutely.

It's a great honor,
Father Dowling.

Publicity like this
makes the priesthood

much more accessible
to the community,

which is why the bishop insisted that I
assume your duties while you're gone.

Though I have to admit,

I was a little concerned
why I wasn't included as well.

- You, Father?
- After all, Sister Stephanie,

Jack Patton might never
have extended this invitation

if it hadn't been for that
fuss in the newspaper

when we saved the Chalice of
St. Sophia from those con men.

"We" saved the chalice?

Well, don't you remember,
Sister Stephanie?

Father Prestwick was very
much involved with that con.

Intimately.

Hmm.

Well, Sister Stephanie wasn't
invited either. Maybe next time.

Oh, Steve, you sure you
wanna drive me? I can get a cab.

Not on your life, Frank.
I wanna meet this guy.

- Hmm.
- Oh, Father, I can get your scarf.

- In case it gets chilly.
- Bye, Marie.

- Bye.
- Bye.

Well, at least there was
one consolation, Marie.

What's that, Father?

After juggling the Bishop's
appointment calendar all week,

two days managing a
little parish like St. Michael's

should prove to
be quite restful.

Oh, dear Lord. There's
the plumbing again.

The plumbing?

Father Dowling was
gonna fix it this weekend.

Now I guess the job
is up to you, Father.

Oh, by the way you've
got the Altar Guild at 4:00.

Then at 5 you've got the
Gleason wedding rehearsal,

and at 6 mother superior
wants you over at the convent

to hear the sisters'
weekly confession.

I guess you'll have
to miss dinner, Father.

I guess there's money
in murder, Frank.

Murder mystery, Steve.

Jack Patton's the best-selling
mystery novelist since Agatha Christie.

Hey.

They say he's obsessed
with electronic security.

Waiting around like
this drives me crazy.

I give him five more
minutes, I'm out of here.

Oh, surely not, sergeant,
we've each come

a considerable distance for
this weekend's amusement.

It seems a pity to cancel just
because our host is slightly delayed.

I know. But I got in from
New York three hours ago,

and the guy still isn't here.

Well, he obviously expected
us or his security system

wouldn't have let us in.

- Father Dowling. Sister Stephanie.
- Hi.

- Lindsey Quinn. FRANK:
Nice to meet you, officer.

Oh, that's a nice jacket, but it
doesn't quite conceal your gun.

Besides, your friend called
you "sergeant" as we came in.

Sir Arthur Wedgeworth, Sister.

You needn't bother to
deduce my profession, Father.

I'm a consultant
for Scotland Yard.

I'm a bit of an armchair
sleuth myself, actually,

with due deference to our
new friend, the professor here.

Clement Mitchell, Boston
College Criminology Department.

Oh, Professor Mitchell, I've read your
articles in Armchair Sleuth magazine.

- They're brilliant.
- Oh, well...

Have a care, Father.
Flatter an academic

- and you'll never be rid of him.
- Heh, heh.

Why a nun?

- Why a cop?
- Hmm.

Ever since I was a little
girl, I loved the uniform.

- Me too.
- Hmm.

You know, if this were a stakeout,
I'd think we'd all been set up.

So you've been here before Art.

Does Patton treat
all his guests like this?

Ask him yourself,
sergeant, if I'm not mistaken

that's dear old Jack now.

Oh, my God.

Jack?

He's dead.

Welcome to my murder.

Six months ago, I was
diagnosed with a terminal illness.

Well, rather than suffer a
long and painful decline,

I've decided to plot my
own murder, as you see.

Fitting climax to a triumphant
literary career in crime.

Now, some of you might
consider this to be in poor taste.

But since it's my
death, I'll die as I want.

I challenge you, the finest
deductive minds in the country,

to solve the crime and to catch
my murderer before he escapes.

The police have been notified
and will be here within the hour,

but it's really up
to the four of you.

You'll find the evidence
you need to start

at the beginning
of the 25th psalm.

That first clue is in
your honor, Father.

Heh, good luck. You'll
need it. Heh, heh.

Let's find a Bible. There.

What is it, Frank?

Patton said that the
evidence we need to start

is at the beginning at
the 25th psalm, hmm?

- And he called that the first clue.
- So?

The 25th psalm is an acrostic.

Every line starts with a letter
from the Hebrew alphabet.

Alef, beit, gimel, and so on.

Steve,

where else would you find
words in alphabetical order?

Dictionary.

- A rose.
- There are roses in the front hall.

Excuse me, everybody.

X marks the spot.

Let's take a look.

Can I see this for a second?
- Hmm.

Frank. FRANK: Hm.

There's some kind of
a bird cooking in here.

That, Sister Stephanie, is
what is known as a wild goose.

Shouldn't there be a body here?

Well, there would be if
Jack Patton was dead,

but he isn't dead,
is he, Sir Arthur?

You told us he was dead, Art.

He lied. Please don't be too
hard on Sir Arthur, sergeant.

He's an old friend
and a good sport.

I hope you're all good sports.

If you are, heh, heh, heh,

we'll have a wonderful time.

- Please sit down.
- Thanks.

Father Dowling, I was just telling
Sister Stephanie that she did so well

unraveling that last clue I'd
like her to stay the weekend.

Looks like those spare pajamas
are gonna come in handy, Frank.

- Mr. Patton.
- Oh, please, Father, call me Jack.

Jack.

I enjoy and admire your books,

and I was looking
forward to meeting you.

- I sense a "but" coming on.
- But...

this mystery weekend is
not exactly what I expected.

Faking your own murder?

Well, that was just
to whet your appetite.

Tomorrow, I serve
the main course.

Well, I hope your main
course is in better taste.

How do your other guests feel?

Well, I haven't met Sergeant
Quinn or the professor before,

but we've corresponded.

They are first-timers, like yourself.
Sir Arthur is an old hand at the game.

He seems to enjoy it.

I'm sorry you don't approve.

I just don't think murder
is something to joke about.

Neither do I.

Father, I write about
crime and I do it well.

When I write a
book, I'm in control.

There's no risk, no surprise.
There's no challenge anymore.

- And these mystery weekends?
- Provide the challenge I crave.

My intellect against yours.

Literary detective
against true detective.

Oh, heh, heh. I'm
hardly a true detective.

A parish priest
who solves crimes.

Oh, Father, ha, ha, you
do what I only dream of.

You should write a book.

Father,

it's a pleasure
to have you here.

- Sister.
- Thank you.

Steve, did you notice his
palm when we shook hands?

Sweaty. He's nervous, Frank.

I wonder why?

Why don't we go inside.
I'll show you around.

Great.

Well, Professor Mitchell,

we meet face to face at last.

I can't say I've been
looking forward to this.

But I've just reread your
last message and, uh,

I think we have a
great deal to discuss.

No, actually we don't.

Was that a shot? - Steve?

Has anybody seen Steve?
- In here.

- Where's the light?
- Jack?

Oh, my God.

He's dead.

- What, again?
- No, this time it's no joke, sergeant.

You better take charge.

Dead? Are you sure?

- Steve.
- Frank.

You are never gonna
believe what happened to me.

There's a secret
passage way in...

Oh. That looks real.

It is.

- Evening, lieutenant.
- Evening, gentleman.

Right through there.
- Thank you.

- Adams. Homicide.
- Sergeant Quinn, N.Y.P.D.

We got a call.
What's the situation?

The victim is a white male,
mid 40s, no visible wounds.

No visible wounds? He was shot.

We haven't examined the body.

I thought it best to
preserve the crime scene

- as we found it until your team arrived.
- Good.

Professional courtesy.

- Professional courtesy, Frank.
- Oh, right.

I don't get it. We
didn't lock these doors.

- Well, they're locked now.
- Patton's homemade security system.

- It must have locked automatically.
- So how do we get in?

Jack told me that he
designed the whole system

to be controlled by a
single central computer.

And where is this
central computer?

Well, there's some kind
of computer in the library.

Great.

Father, isn't there supposed
to be a body in this room?

Good old Jack.

He did it again.

- Who did what?
- Jack Patton.

This is another one of his games,
but this time he had your help

to pull the gag, Father.

- Now, wait a minute.
- No.

Perfect. Who'd suspect
deception from a priest.

- I didn't have...
- Are you telling me this is a game?

This whole weekend's
a game, lieutenant.

Lieutenant, Jack Patton was
at that desk and he was dead.

And somebody locked
me in the basement.

Oh, Sister, please.

Father, making a false
police report is a serious crime.

- If you weren't a priest...
- Lieutenant, you've gotta believe me.

Excuse me.

Steve, Patton was
dead. I felt his pulse.

- I believe you, Frank.
- Yeah, well, they don't.

- No, they think it's a game.
- Heh, game.

Steve, someone in this
house killed Jack Patton,

and I think I know a
way to find out who.

How?

Well, Patton talked
about taking risks,

yet he was
obsessed with control.

Photoelectric alarms, gates,
doors, video cameras everywhere.

He's even got one
here in this room.

Frank, if that works like the
security system in a bank,

then it has recorded
everything that it has seen.

That's what I thought, Steve.

If we can just find the VCR, we
might have a tape of Patton's murder.

It's not gonna be
easy, you know.

The recorder is probably hidden
somewhere with the central computer.

Well, isn't this the
central computer?

No, this is a terminal. It's like
an extension on a telephone.

So it must be someplace else.

We'll start looking first
thing tomorrow morning.

Yeah. While you do that,
I'll have a talk with the others.

- Steve?
- Yeah.

What worries me is
we were all together

from the time we discovered
Patton's body until the police arrived.

- Right?
- Right.

Then we all came in here
and Patton's body was gone.

If we were all together
who moved the body?

It wasn't me, Frank.
I was with you.

Well, it wasn't me
either. I was with her.

Father Dowling, thank
heavens I caught you.

You have got to come home.

When? Today. This morning. Now.

This weekend isn't turning
out at all the way I had hoped.

- I finally got the sink bailed out.
- Hold on.

You better get changed.

You've got the Connor
quintuplet baptism in 10 minutes.

Father Dowling, please.

Heh, heh. It sounds like the
typical weekend at St. Michaels.

Well, I'm sure you're
doing just fine, Father.

No, no, I can't get away. You'll
have to hold the fort down alone.

All right, Phil. Bye-bye.

- Trouble at home?
- Plumbing problems.

Sir Arthur,

as long as you insist on
playing Patton's game,

- can I ask you a question?
- Fire away.

Well, last night when we all came
downstairs after we heard the shot,

I can't recall whether I saw you
coming out first from your room

or the top of the stairs.
- Oh, I see.

If one of us shot Jack Patton,
he wouldn't have had time

to return to his room
before we came down.

So the killer would've either had to
join us on the stairs or in the front hall.

Very good, Father.
You have a flair for this.

Well, as you say, we
might as well play along.

Absolutely. Let me see.

Well, I remember seeing
Lindsey coming out of her room.

By the way, sergeant, that
reminds me, for a police officer,

you look very
becoming in black lace.

Thanks.

But it's funny, Wedgie, I
don't remember seeing you

until we got halfway
down the stairs.

Oh, I do. Sir Arthur
was just ahead of me,

but I don't remember
seeing you, Father.

So much for our alibis.

In a jury trial, an alibi without
creditable corroboration

can be more damning to the
defendant than no alibi at all.

Dear old Jack must be really
enjoying himself this time.

Well, I'm not.

I keep on expecting Patton to
jump out of a closet and go "boo."

Well, obviously he won't reveal
himself until we solve the mystery.

Ah, but without an alibi, anyone
of us could be the murderer.

Even Father Dowling.

Oh, not again.

Frank!

Frank!

You're not enjoying yourself
very much, are you, sergeant?

Games don't thrill me, Father.

I probably wouldn't be here
if Patton hadn't promised

- to help me with my book.
- You wrote a book?

Patton read an article about
me when I got my gold shield

for busting a drug overlord.

The book was his idea.

I hope your literary
efforts fair better

with dear old Jack
then mine did, sergeant.

- You wrote a book too, Sir Arthur?
- Yes, also encouraged by Jack.

We met in London while he
was researching that novel.

He urged me to chronicle
my exploits, such as they were.

When I asked his
opinion of the manuscript,

dear old Jack just ripped it to shreds.
- Heh, heh, heh.

Well, criticism can be
hard to take sometimes.

Well, this was more than
criticism, Father, it was savagery.

Pure and simple.

You make him
sound like a sadist?

Not at all. Our Jack just has to prove
that he's better than everybody else.

That's all. That's the whole
point of these mystery weekends.

I keep returning because I hope
that one day he'll fall flat on his face.

But he never does.
He's too clever.

If anyone ever deserves to really
be murdered, it's dear old Jack.

It's your move.

Steve.

Sister Stephanie.

Steve?

Steve, are you all right?

Somebody tried to kill me.

- I don't like that look, Father.
- It couldn't have been one of us.

- We were with you.
- Do you still think this is

part of Patton's mystery game?
- Of course, it is.

It's in typically bad taste.

You know, I think it's time we
took a look around the house.

Let me help you.

- It's okay.
- Steve, I don't understand it.

If they were with me and Jack
Patton is dead, who tried to kill you?

Frank, look at this.

Both of these cars have computer
ignitions with remote controls.

It's handy for warming up your engine
on a cold winter morning, you know?

Or trying to kill
someone by asphyxiation.

Steve, could these
cars and those doors

- be operated by a central computer?
- Sure.

Would someone have to be
on hand to run that computer?

Not really. You could
program it in advance,

like taping a TV show in a VCR.

Then all of our suspects
are still suspects.

What were you doing
before this happened?

Well, I was looking for
the central computer,

like we talked about. I was
following the cable down.

I think it went into
the basement, Frank.

Great, I wish I had found
that last night when I was

- bumping around down here.
- Heh.

Hm.

You know, you would think that
an insecure egotist like Patton

would stock his
cellar with better wine.

Not much to see
down here, is there?

No, apparently not.

Say, how did you get up
to the library last night?

There's a secret
passageway around the corner.

Frank, I was thinking,

maybe we should check out
some of the other guest rooms?

- I've got my hair pin.
- Sister Stephanie,

you are entirely too fond
of breaking and entering.

- Only entering, Frank. I never break.
- Hmm.

- Oh, good Lord.
- No, be careful, Frank.

- Watch out for glass.
- I'm so embarrassed.

Well, it could have been worse.

- It could have been champagne.
- Yeah.

- Two down, one to go, Frank.
- Hmm.

So far the biggest
secret we've uncovered

was Sergeant Quinn's
supply of Sugar Babies.

Well, Professor Mitchell, he
must be very hard on his students.

- What do you mean?
- Well, look at this, Steve.

He's so neat. Shirts,
socks, shorts, shoes.

All lined up like they were
waiting for an inspection.

Maybe he got his degree
in the Marine Corps.

Heh. Even his magazines.

- Steve.
- What?

Look at this.

"In a jury trial, an alibi
without credible corroboration

can be more damning for the
defendant than no alibi at all."

Very interesting,
Frank. Who wrote that?

- Professor Clement Mitchell.
- Hmm.

Steve, I think Professor
Mitchell has shown us

a way to expose Patton's killer.

Father. My Lord.

Huh, you can't imagine
the day I've had.

The kitchen is flooded.

All of the altar
boys from the parish

are sick with food poisoning as
a result of this afternoon's picnic.

I can't find any servers
for this evening's mass.

I just learned that
there is a bingo game

in the church
basement this evening...

but I've loaned all of our folding
chairs to the Ladies Auxiliary.

And just five minutes ago,
Marie has announced to me

that this evening is
her night off. Heh, heh.

Father Dowling, heh, heh, would
you please tell me what to do?

Phil, did you try
turning off the water?

Well, there's a valve right
outside the kitchen door.

The one marked "shutoff."

Yeah, you do that.

We'll be home
tomorrow. Goodbye, Phil.

If I could get a seat on a plane
this late I'd go home right now. Unh.

No luck finding our host?

Scoured the grounds
from gate to garden.

We've searched in every
nook, and every cranny

from drafty attic
to dark foundation

and nary a sign of our
wayward landlord did we spy.

In a word, no.

I half wish you hadn't been
kidding last night, Father.

What do you mean?

The way Patton has treated us,

if he isn't dead
already, he ought to be.

No, I quit.

Oh, come on, Lindsey,

you're not gonna just let
him win like that, are you?

He hasn't won anything, Steve.

This is an idiot game and I
don't wanna play anymore.

Quit or lose, it amounts
to the same thing.

But I agree with you,
sergeant, enough is enough.

Jack, where ever you are,

we surrender.

Reveal yourself LINDSEY: Hey.

Hey, look at this.

Well, that's a car key.

Not just any car key, Frank.
This is a Jaguar car key.

How much do you wanna bet that
this fits the car in Patton's garage.

Well, how did it get here.

Patton must have put it here
when we were out looking for him.

It's a clue, Frank. I think
we should check it out.

- No.
- No?

Sergeant Quinn and
the others are right.

We're finished
playing Patton's game.

- But...
- Steve, dead or alive,

Jack Patton is an egotistical
bore and I've had enough of him.

Good night.

Whoa. Ahh!

Wedgeworth.

What on earth did you
do that for, sergeant?

I thought you were Patton.

- Isn't he here?
- No, this is another one of his

wild goose chases,
and I fell for it.

Well, at least I'm not
the only one, huh?

Oh, thank you.
Thank you so much.

I'm sorry, Frank.

I guess your plan to trap
the killer didn't really work.

Actually, Steve, it worked
out better than I expected.

You're very good,
whoever you are.

But when you quoted
Professor Mitchell's articles

on alibis that was in the Armchair
Sleuth, word for word, heh, heh,

you were too good.

Father Dowling, I don't
know what you mean.

Yes, you do.

We found copies of
Mitchell's articles in your room.

Highlighted and underlined,
just like a student's textbook.

And I thought I was
just being well-prepared.

Hmm.

You're probably the first killer
whoever gave himself away

with good study habits.

Well, at least I didn't fall for
that trap with Patton's car key.

Ah, but you did.

You see, only the killer
could know it was a trap.

Only the killer knew
that Patton was dead

and couldn't leave
anything behind in his office.

Quinn and Wedgeworth
fell for the trap, but you didn't.

The trap was there was no trap.

It's too bad Patton is dead.

He would have liked playing
games with you, Father.

It's a nice touch leaving
his body in my car.

I should've known you and
the Sister had it hidden all along.

But the game is over now.

This says I win,
Father, and you lose.

We'll do this up the road a bit.

Otherwise, Sergeant
Quinn might hear the shots

and she has a gun of her own.

You didn't worry about making
any noise when you killed Patton.

You were supposed
to hear me, Sister.

That was part of the contract.

What contract?

You never stop, do you?

You still think this is
some kind of game.

Amateurs. You make me sick.

Oh, my God. The
gate is electrified.

Frank, is he dead?

From what you tell me,
Father, this man, Mitchell,

or whatever his name is, must
have been a professional hit man.

Any idea why a professional
would wanna kill your friend Patton?

He wasn't my friend, lieutenant.

Patton wasn't anyone's friend.

Maybe the hit man wrote a
book and Jack didn't like it.

Some people find it so difficult
to accept criticism graciously.

What is it, Frank? - Glass.

Lieutenant Adams.

He was up at the gate.

Says he was invited here
for some kind of mystery party.

I have just spent two days
chasing a trail of idiotic clues

all over Champaign-Urbana.

This morning it
finally dawned on me

that I've been the victim of
some vulgar practical joke.

Excuse me. Who are you?

Clement Mitchell.

Professor Clement Mitchell,
Boston College. Who are you?

Who are all these people?

Where's Jack Patton?

Will someone please tell
me what's going on here?

That's enough, professor.

Don't touch that computer,
those files are evidence.

I don't understand.

The case is closed.

That man was the killer.
You proved it, Father.

The man who impersonated
you may have been the killer,

but from the beginning, I knew
someone else was involved.

The hit man, the guy who
was pretending to be you,

he was with us when
Patton's body disappeared.

And he was with me when
someone tried to kill Steve.

You thought, I'd identify you.

You're the one who
locked me in the basement

the night that Patton was shot.

You've been hiding in
this room all the time,

watching us on those monitors.

Well, even if it were true, you
can't connect me with Patton's death.

You hid Patton's body
in this room with you.

You wanted to have time to
go through his computer files.

- You can't prove that.
- Oh, yes, we can.

You see, I broke a wine bottle
outside this door yesterday.

It was quite a mess. Broken
glass all over the floor.

When you dragged Patton's
body out to the killer's car,

some of that broken
glass was on his trousers.

We saw it when the coroner
came to take away his body.

This is ridiculous. The killer
was a professional hit man.

Well, you may have hired
him through a third party.

He wouldn't know
who he was working for.

Well, then why on earth would
I have him impersonate me?

To give yourself an alibi.

It's like you said, professor, "An
alibi without any credible corroboration

can be more damning for a
defendant than no alibi at all."

Motive.

What possible motive would I
have to want Jack Patton dead?

When we go through
those computer files,

I think that we'll find that you wanted
his help to get a book published.

Considering how Patton
treated other wannabe writers,

it probably wasn't
such a good idea.

I had all the ideas.

I've been advising
him for years.

I helped him design
his security system.

I even gave him the
plot for his last best-seller.

All I wanted was
a little support...

but he ripped me apart.

He told his publisher
that if they took my book,

he'd never sell them another.

His ego couldn't
stand the competition,

and yours couldn't
stand the rejection.

Professor, you're under arrest.

Come on. Come on.

Father Prestwick,
are you all right?

- Fine. Fine.
- Phil. What are you doing here?

Ah, I'm...

Father...

you have to come home.

This weekend hasn't
been what I expected.

The plumbing and
the Ladies Auxiliary.

In all humility, Father,
I'm in over my head.

A little humility is
good for us all, Phil.

A little humility might
have saved a man's life.

Last night, after bingo,
I locked up the church.

This morning I
could not find the key.

I tried calling the Patton house,
but that phone was disconnected.

I didn't know what to do.

How did you get in the
church for morning mass?

Oh, well, I found a way.

Through the sacristy window.

- Heh, heh, heh.
- Why, Phil, this is a side of you

I've never seen before.

You would have seen more
if he hadn't had a vestment

that covered the
tear in his pants.

Oh, but, you know, running
a parish is much harder work

than I ever imagined, Father.
- Yes.

It takes a lot of faith
and a lot of elbow grease.

There we go. That's it.

All finished.

- Should I turn it on?
- Oh, may I?

Be my guest.