All language subtitles for MrSWr1002

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote

Construction on Gillrich Towers

begins immediately upon
demolition of those brownstones.

- The bad guys are running the store.
- It’s easy to feel that way.

If I have to tear it down
with my own hands, that building falls.

You ever come back here,
Gillrich, you’re a dead man.

Notify the captain. We got a break.

- That is absolutely fabulous.
- You caught me.

I slept last night, knowin’
the cops are off my case.

Margaret doesn’t know
how to say no.

I find that pillow talk
brings out a man’s generosity

and expectations.

I don’t believe the end
justifies the means.

I’m a little tired of
this condescension.

They’re knocking down buildings
all over New York,

and for what? More skyscrapers.

Oh, Jessica, I envy you
your Cabot Cove retreat.

Hi. Thanks for being here.

Look, Jessica, two out of these three

beautiful old buildings
have already been vacated.

Without Number 65,
they won’t be able to build anything

much less a 40-storey co-op.

Which is why
I asked you for lunch.

We have been engaged in an absolute
dog fight over these buildings.

Look, Carol, I really want to help,

but I just had my editor’s notes
on my final draft.

Now don’t worry.
Margaret is joining us for lunch,

she’s assured me that
the deadline’s pretty flexible.

Margaret just doesn’t
know how to say no.

Look, I’d be delighted
to make a contribution, but...

No buts.

We’ve got a hearing
scheduled at the city--

- Hi, Mrs. Fletcher, Miss Collins.
- Hi, Margaret.

Sorry. Something came up.

Do you realize
that Margaret discovered

that Eugene O’Neill did rewrites

for Strange Interlude
from this very table?

I think it was when
it was a speakeasy.

A famous gangster
used it as an office.

Dutch Schultz.

And did you know that
Ernest Hemingway

used to live on the top floor?

When you called last week,

I did a little bit
of digging around

at the local historical society.

Hemingway on the top floor!

Jessica, you are wonderful!

We have managed to save
the homes of Mark Twain

and Edna St. Vincent Millay,

and now, Hemingway and O’Neill.

And Dutch Schultz.

A close, personal friend
of my grandfather’s.

He brought in a lot of business,
believe me.

What are you drinkin’,
young lady?

Got any non-alcoholic beer?

Comin’ up. Ladies.

Look, Carol, I’ll be delighted
to sign any petition

or letter or whatever.

But I’m afraid
this book deadline

precludes me being involved
any further than that.

- She’s right, Miss Collins.
- Oh.

Is there any chance
that these developers--

The Gillrich brothers.

Well, is there any chance that
they might consider an alternate site?

Believe me, we have tried.

We put any number
of possibilities on the table.

What would be acceptable
to me is if Eugene Gillrich

is found in cement shoes
at the bottom of the East River.

Oh, come on, Vincent.

The hearing
is simply a formality.

It isn’t as if we’re gonna
default on the loan.

You tell him, darling.

You bought those buildings,
you have a right to knock them down.

Lee, please, the man
is just a bean counter.

Vince, Vince.

In the last week,
foreign interests have committed

to renting the rest of
the ground floor retail space.

Not true.

Any cash flow problems
you think we’re having are just rumors.

Vincent, would I hang you
out to dry?

You tell your loan committee

that we are absolutely
on schedule.

Construction on Gillrich Towers

begins immediately upon
demolition of those brownstones,

which we’re hitting with
the wrecker’s ball in 72 hours.

- Okay, but not a minute more.
- All right.

I will call you

immediately upon
the completion of that hearing.

- I’ll do what I can.
- Thanks.

Uh... foreign interests?

Since when?

Since soon.

Hey, Walter, you have an eye.

Your opinion of
my bride’s latest sketches.

My instructor says
I’m really growing.

These are for the model apartments
in the Gillrich Towers.

Well, these are...
these are very nice, Lee.

All the promise you showed when
you did Eugene’s office here.

Thank you.

Oh, Eugene, I just got off the phone
with a Margaret Johnson

from the City
Preservation Committee.

Damn it, Walter, I told you
not to take their calls anymore.

She just wanted to know
what’s to become

of a woman in Number 65,

one of the tenants,

a Mrs. Rhodes, who’s 87 years old,

and has lived there for 60 years.

Are we throwing her out?

Of course not.
You wouldn’t let me.

In fact, we’ve already committed to paying
for her move to Florida.

This injunction they’re going for...

Miss Johnson wanted me to tell you

there are gonna be
pickets and TV coverage

she also wanted to know
whether you’ve had time

to review those alternate sites.

Or maybe we could at least
spare Number 65.

Oh God, Walter,
whose side are you on?

Look, how many times
do I have to spell it out for you?

Come on, Eugene. I’m a little tired
of this condescension.

Walter, Eugene.

These people are determined
to make real trouble for us.

I don’t see why we can’t
at least consider an alternate site.

You think you know real trouble?

63, 65, 67.

When we lose 65, the whole project
crashes and burns, Walter,

followed immediately by us.

Now, all I want from you
tomorrow at the hearing

is silence.

And after, the Hamptons,

before you have a coronary.

If the hearings don’t
give me one first.

We could still lose
this whole thing, Lee.

It could go away from us,

even without Walter’s help.

This is Mike La Rocca
with a feature report

for Channel 6
at the City Courthouse,

where a surprise development
took place a few moments ago

as the hearings adjourned
for the day with no decision.

I am with two members of
the City Preservation Committee.

What is your reaction to the split
at Gillrich Realty, Miss Johnson?

Me? Well, I--

The fact that Walter Gillrich
publicly broke ranks with his brother,

and agreed to consider alternate sites

means that even the enemy
has a sense of history...

and a conscience,

about architectural continuity,

and senior citizens
being thrown out into the streets.

- What were you thinking?
- Thank you very much, ladies.

I believe I see
Eugene Gillrich coming out.

- Mr. Gillrich, Mike La Rocca.
- No comment.

But today, your brother seemed
to break ranks with the--

- It’s clearly a misunderstanding.
- Forgive me, Mr. Gillrich,

but that sounds like an oxymoron.

Walter Gillrich, perhaps you
have something to say.

My brother has
nothing more to say.

Mr. Walsh, you have
a lease on the 65 bar

that allows you to operate
the place till they tear it down.

That’s right, Mike.

And with the friends
turnin’ out like today,

and Walter Gillrich comin’ through
at the 11th hour,

it looks as if my lease is gonna
last as long as I do.

Yes, but some cynics are saying

that, due to all this publicity, the 65
has turned into a cash cow,

and you into an overnight
devotee of cultural history.

Hey, Mike, the 65 was my father’s,

and my grandfather’s before him,

a hangout for the famous
and the infamous.

And if you wanna talk cold beer,

and the best-liked
steak sandwich in town--

Thanks very much, Mr. Walsh.

This is Mike La Rocca, Channel 6 News,

at City Hall.

It’s nice to finally
meet you in person.

Ernest Hemingway in 4B.

For whom the Bell tolls.

That’s my favorite, Miss Johnson.

- Margaret.
- Margaret.

He wrote it on top of an icebox
on legal paper.

He was tall.

Instead of a desk.

Yeah, well, I’d need a desk.

I’m not that tall. I’m also not
Ernest Hemingway.

Walter.

Car’s waiting.

Uh, we’ll talk, Margaret.

And tonight,
many of the faithful

will hold a rally at the 65 bar,

which, like a cat,
may truly have nine lives.

It won’t quite be a victory rally,

but after this day’s events,

many of the Preservation
Committee supporters

believe that the construction
of the Gillrich Towers

is no longer--

Carol, it’s Jessica Fletcher.

I hope I’m not
calling you too late.

I had the news on,
and it’s good, for a change.

Well, I guess the two-day reprieve

is better than a demolition permit,

but still, there’s no telling

what Eugene Gillrich has

up those immaculately
tailored sleeves,

except that you can be certain

it will be Machiavellian.

Well, I find I’m a little
ahead of schedule,

so if another body
will help at the rally--

Oh, Jessica,

that is absolutely fabulous.

I’ll alert that cute
reporter from Channel 6.

You are an angel.

Thanks for calling. Bye.

Bye.

Did you hear that?

Another celebrity isn’t
going to impress them downtown.

What gets those people
where they live

are the tax revenues
the city will realize

from my new co-ops.

So you know that romancing me

isn’t gonna shake
my people off your back.

Carol, has it occurred to you

that I may have no ulterior motive?

For about two
wish-fulfilling seconds,

until you flunked
my reality check.

You have a very young,
very attractive wife.

Who’s very busy this afternoon
with homework.

So you thought you’d come by,
do a little of your own,

at my home.

Why don’t you think of me

as an insatiable student?

There’s always
new things to learn.

Excuse me. Sir?

Is the report ready to be typed?

Uh, not yet, Evelyn.

Look, it’s almost 6:00.

Why don’t you leave it till tomorrow?

Right. Thank you, Sir.
Good night.

Hey, La Rocca, wait up.
We gotta talk.

Ah, Victor, just the man
I wanted to see.

Listen, about the layout
for my 64th Street special.

My picture has
got to be bigger, okay?

The lettering has to be
behind me, you know?

Which is where I’d like to be
with a sledgehammer.

What do you mean, Victor?

I mean I’ve been upstairs for
the last two hours

trying to explain away
the bill of goods I let you sell me.

It’s a sure thing, Victor. Who’s got
the muscle to stop the Gillrich brothers?

You’re talkin’ about this landmark
preservation business?

It’s all smoke, Victor.
It’s gonna happen.

Yeah, from your lips,

we’ve got pickets, petitioners,

angry ladies, hearings,
evicting old people,

and we’ve got sponsors
going South in droves, Mike.

- Some sure thing, huh?
- Victor, you know as well as I do

that only means bigger ratings.

And if it doesn’t happen,
the station’s out.

All the thousands
they spent promoting it,

and I’m out all my credibility.

Mike, we’re gonna
figure out another angle.

An out. Do you understand me?

Victor, not to worry.
I have a little plan of my own.

If I have to tear it down with
my own hands, that building falls.

So did you finish
the notes for the book?

Yeah, it’s only a page.
I’ll fax it to your place tonight.

Oh, that’s great.

Lucky to get a space.

Isn’t that Eugene Gillrich’s wife?

So it is.

What do you suppose
she’s doing on enemy turf?

Spying, perhaps?

Really? Well, Ms. Gillrich
is probably here

to lend her husband
some support.

But I guess it’s easier
to manufacture some excuse

to break my lease.

Well, anyway, hey, Pete,
first round’s on me,

then it’s every man for himself.

This whole building, right?

Yes.

Mike La Rocca with celebrated
local author J.B. Fletcher.

So, does your pub crawling
bring you here often?

Well, I live just around the corner.

Tell me something,
Miss Fletcher.

What’s the appeal of these
broken-down old tenements

to a bright, successful
woman such as yourself?

As a neighborhood resident,

I’d like the area to remain just that--

A neighborhood.

Thank you very much.

Mr. Gillrich, off the record,

you coming over here
a sign of capitulation?

For the record, Mr. La Rocca,

my coming over here
is to talk dollars

and common sense with
the neighborhood merchants.

- More specifically?
- More specifically,

what’s wrong with
1,000 affluent new residents,

all of them ready
to shop till they drop?

You think they’d be afraid
to show their faces around here.

To answer your question, Mrs. Fletcher,

I live over in Queens.
I’m the visiting nurse

to Mrs. Rhodes upstairs in 4B.

Oh, where is she?

Fifty years in one building.

It would be wonderful
to get her on the news.

You know, Mrs. Collins,
I don’t think she’s quite up to it,

but I’ll be glad to
give her the petition.

- I know she wants to sign up.
- All right.

Ah, J.B. Fletcher. Eugene Gillrich.

Oh, yes, Mr. Gillrich.

It’s certainly a pleasure to meet you.

And Miss Collins.

Well, allow me to buy you
both a drink.

- Miss Collins?
- A dry martini.

And Mrs. Fletcher?

Well, um, White wine?

One white wine, and
a dry martini with an onion.

- Got it.
- Yeah, speak up.

Margaret Johnson? Yeah.
Margaret Johnson.

Maggie, phone call!

Thank you.

Hello.

Why yes, I’d love to.

That would be wonderful, Walter.

So. This is the table
where Eugene O’Neill

supposedly carved his initials?

Granddad said
he used a steak knife.

Nolan, my offer’s still open.

Oh, come on.

Give up this City
Preservation crusade.

Sign on for demolition,

and I will move this place,
lock, stock and sawdust

to the East side.

You’ll become
another Hard Rock Cafe.

T-shirts, souvenirs,

and tourists lined up
around the block.

Yo, people!

You’re parked out front,
the cops are towin’.

On the down side,

you must know that I’m a man
who has a lot of friends downtown.

I mean, one phone call,
and the city fire department

finds your venerable
old institution a trap.

And another phone call to, say,

the city health department,

and they find rats in your kitchen.

I don’t take too good
to threats, Mr. Gillrich.

Look, Nolan, Nolan,

we’re just a couple of workin’ stiffs

tryin’ to turn a buck here.

Come on, why don’t you
give up this nostalgia garbage,

and, I mean,
your lace-curtain origins.

You ever come back here,
Gillrich, you’re a dead man.

All right, all right.

- What’s wrong?
- Let’s go.

He said he’d have
that report on my desk

first thing this morning.

But knowing Walter,
it’s probably not there.

Knowing Walter, he probably
typed it himself, so it might...

Walter.

Oh, my God.

Okay, lieutenant,
the janitor says

he saw the victim last night
around 6:30 at the water cooler.

But, with his vacuum running,
he never heard a shot.

According to the after-hours
sign-in sheet,

nobody got up here past 6:00.

God, suppose we’re
lookin’ at a robbery also?

Man’s dead, wearing a $1,000 watch.
I don’t think so.

He was shot at close range.

Figures maybe he knew the shooter.

The bullet went into
the back of the chair,

in here, and out here.

Well, keep looking for the bullet.

And Henderson, cheer up, will you?

We’ll solve this... or not.

Mr. Gillrich, I know
this isn’t a great time

to be piecing together what happened,

but let me talk to you over here.

Whatever it takes.
I want who did this caught now.

Did your brother have any enemies?

- Not a one.
- Everybody liked him.

Someone who he let go?

Someone who didn’t get a promotion

returns with a gun. It happens.

I know, but we’re a small company.

We haven’t let
anyone go in years.

I saw on the news,

you and Walter had
a flare-up at City Hall.

You accusing me?

My brother worked nights
to put me through college.

His capital started
this business.

I loved him.

For the report,

where were the both of you
between, say,

6:30 and 10:00 last night?

The 65 Bar.
We went there about 6:00.

We left there around 9:30.
Witnesses saw us.

Then we took a cab home.

Do you have any idea
why Walter was at your desk?

His office connects,
but, no, I don’t.

Walter’s report. Maybe he
was bringing it in when he was shot.

We did find a draft of an Environmental
Impact report on his desk.

It hadn’t been typed up.

Reports, permits, condos.

It all seems so damned unimportant now.

Lieutenant,
Mike La Rocca, Channel 6.

No comment.

So the department
has nothing to go on,

citizens stand by helpless as another
senseless shooting goes unsolved.

La Rocca, you wanna
make speeches?

Run for Congress, all right?

Victor. Okay.

Just remember,
that was Walter Gillrich

who gummed up his brother’s plans.

With him gone, it’s clear sailing.

Wrong. I just heard it on the news.

Until the police know why he’s gone,

the planning board is
postponing the final hearing.

No digging for Dutch Schultz’ victims

till further notice, if ever.

I swear to God, La Rocca,

I am not gonna be the only one
lookin’ who’s for a job.

The police, look,
they know what they’re doing,

they’ll find the killer,
we’ll be in business.

And what makes you so sure?

Call it my nose for news.

I really don’t think there’s
anything I can add, Artie.

I met Walter at the hearing.

He became our political Ally, so to speak.

That was the last time you saw him?

In person, you mean?

We spoke later on the phone,
about 6:30, I think.

Department’s already getting heat
from Eugene Gillrich

and his City Hall contacts.
What I don’t get is, Eugene is the heavy,

and Walter, who never
had an enemy in the world,

winds up with a hole in his chest.

Gelber.

Doris? What?

When?

Oh, that’s terrible.

Our year-old grandson
was turned down by

the Wee School in
the Dells Infant Program.

How could they do that?
The kid’s brilliant.

He fell asleep
during the interview?

I’ll get back to you, Doris.

Sorry.

Artie, since Walter was shot
from behind in his brother’s office,

I assume that you’ve
considered the possibility

that Eugene was the intended victim,

and that Walter was killed by mistake?

Yeah, yeah, we have.

Apparently, the list of
people who can’t stand Eugene

begins with Nolan Walsh
and ends with his friends.

Coroner’s office approximates
time of death

at 8:00 to 9:00 p.m.

do you know how many homicides
he said there were last night, Lieutenant?

Henderson, I don’t care, okay?

We worry about this one, period,
then we go on to the next.

Henderson is convinced that
the bad guys are running the store.

It’s easy to feel that way.

The lab’s backed up.

They’re still running the fingerprints

no bullet’s been found yet,

and, oh, yeah, the taxi
company confirmed

that the Gillriches got home at 9:30.

Henderson, check all the tenants in 65.

If Gillrich was trying to throw me

out of my rent-controlled apartment,

no love lost, yes?

Here are the tenant lists
for all three buildings.

Old Mrs. Rhodes in 65, could you die?

She’s been there so long,
she’s only paying $300 a month.

300? Maybe the old bird
would like some roommates,

share the expenses. Doris and I
don’t take up much space.

Maybe Mrs. Rhodes put out
a contract on Eugene Gillrich

so she wouldn’t lose her pad.

Or the ghost of Dutch Schultz did it.

Henderson, check every tenant.

Even Mrs. Rhodes.

You sure I can’t get you some coffee?

Something to calm you down?

No, thank you.

It’s these petitions, Miss Collins.

They’ve been thrown out.

There are at least 900 dead people.

Oh, really? I don’t understand that.

Collectors were moving
rather slowly, but still...

Now don’t you worry.

Signatures can be replaced.

There are plenty of people
out there who are willing to sign.

Eugene Gillrich’s lawyer
has moved to have

the whole petition drive declared invalid.

I don’t think Eugene Gillrich

will allow him to do that.

You don’t? Why?

Why don’t you give me those petitions,

and I’ll take care of everything.

Thank you.

Suffice it to say, Margaret,

that there is no teacher
quite like experience,

especially when it comes to learning
exactly where a man’s buttons are,

and when to push them.

Miss Collins.

Mm-hmm?

I don’t think I really understand you.

That’s very true.

But try to think of it
in terms of you and Walter.

I hardly knew Walter.

Oh, that’s what you may tell the police,

but when you got the phone call
at the Bar last night,

I heard you call him by name,

and then you left right after.

You did go and see Walter
last night, didn’t you?

No. I have to go.

I have to tell you this.

A lot of people think
Walter was killed by mistake,

that the real target was Eugene.

- So I heard.
- Miss Collins, just so you know,

even though a cause may be just,

I don’t believe the end
justifies the means.

I like you, Margaret,

but I don’t want to see you get hurt.

You mustn’t go through life tilting
at dragons like don quixote.

Don quixote tilted at windmills.

Okey, St. George slew dragons.

You see? That’s just what I mean.

After a while, who remembers?

I sneak out of here,

and kill Walter Gillrich.

And the settlers...

they ambush the cavalry,

as they ride to the rescue.

Now his brother, maybe.

Precisely, Mr. Walsh.

You slug Eugene in front of
a lot of people,

you grab a knife, and
you threaten to kill him.

You leave after he does,

you sneak into his office,

it looks like him in his chair,

and you pop Walter by mistake.

If I may say so, Lieutenant,

from what I know of Mr. Walsh,

if he had decided to
go after Eugene Gillrich,

there would’ve been no mistakes.

She’s speakin’ the truth
on that one, all right.

I’m not so sure I’d like
that kind of a character reference

tossed around about me.

Stay in town.

I’d hate to have to send for the cavalry.

Gelber.

Yeah, Henderson? What?

What? Whose prints?

I never would’ve figured that.

Notify the captain. We got a break.

Hello.

Mrs. Fletcher? This is
Margaret’s assistant. She...

she won’t be able
to keep her appointment.

Peggy, what is it?

The police just arrested her

for the killing of Walter Gillrich.

Margaret?!

Thank you, Peggy.

"8:30 p.m."

Oh, Mrs. Gillrich, I’m very sorry
about your brother-in-law.

Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher,

but it’s been much harder on
Eugene, as you can imagine.

Well, I certainly can.

Excuse me. I want to check
with the Lieutenant.

Doris, in this town, money talks.

Maybe that’s what it’s gonna take

for them to look
a little more kindly on little Josh.

Later.

- Jessica...
- Look, Artie,

I have to talk to you
about Margaret Johnson.

Look, Jessica, we didn’t
pull it out of the ether.

Her fingerprints match with
those on an elevator button,

and on the doors of the reception area.

And in her initial statement,

she said the only time she talked
to Walter was on the phone.

So how come we find
this "Save our Block" pin

with Miss Johnson’s thumbprint on it?

Artie, I was just asked
to sign in downstairs.

How is it that you don’t have
Margaret’s signature from that night?

Well, she admits to
meeting Walter downstairs

at around 7:00 for a drink
in the restaurant.

Then, they came up here
to talk about the hearing.

She didn’t have to sign in
because Walter was with her.

Your lab people put Walter’s
death at around 8:30.

Now I think I can prove that
Margaret wasn’t here then.

She couldn’t, and you can?

Margaret faxed me these notes
last night from her apartment.

Look. My fax machine prints out

a chronological summary
of messages I received.

There’s Margaret’s fax to me at 8:30,

following an 8:10 fax and preceding
another which came in around 9:00.

Jessica, suppose that
the coroner’s off by 30 minutes.

Walter’s murdered at 8:00,
in which case,

Margaret’s at home faxing you
as she claims at 8:30.

Artie, I can’t believe
that she would murder

an Ally that she was
beginning to grow very fond of.

Well, she is so lucky
to have a friend like you,

but you know what
she really needs right now?

She needs an alibi
with no holes in it.

Artie, the carpet here is gold.

Yeah, so?

Jessica, you’re doin’
it again, aren’t you?

This carpet is blue, Lieutenant.

Jessica, we like each other,

but picking out patterns...

but if blue carpet fuzz
was on the wheels of the chair

in Eugene’s gold-carpeted
office where Walter was found,

it’s possible that Walter
was killed here in his own office.

Perhaps he was
the intended victim all along.

You mean... wait, wait.

The killer pushes Walter in
his chair into Eugene’s office.

Then he pushes Eugene’s
empty chair back in here,

so that we believe from the get-go

that the wrong man was murdered.

No wonder you couldn’t find the bullet.

We were looking in the wrong office.

Ah, I love it.

You gave us the missing piece, Jessica.

Romance turns sour.

- Romance?
- Walter wines Margaret.

They come up here,
just like she said,

only this time,
not to talk about hearings.

She’s growing fond of him,
like you said.

Maybe he got rough with her,
she tries to push him off.

Not the first time a guy doesn’t
stop when a woman says no.

And then...

Miss Johnson, what can I tell you?

We live in a society where
it’s easier to prove you own a gun

than it is to prove
you don’t own a gun.

Some places, it’s harder to buy
a pack of cigarettes.

Oh, for heaven’s sakes, Artie.

I mean, think.

Doesn’t it just smack of
circumstantial evidence?

Jessica, the D.A.’s people
are comfortable with it.

This is crazy, for God’s sakes.

You’ve all caved in under the pressure

Eugene Gillrich put on your
superiors to charge somebody.

That’s the only reason I’m here.

Lieutenant, the statements
from the residents of 65.

None of them seemed all that
hostile toward the Gillrich brothers.

Ha, they say.
Did you get everyone?

Except Mrs. Rhodes. I couldn’t reach her,
only her answering machine.

Her nurse called back to say
Mrs. Rhodes’ niece came in from Jersey

to bring her out there for a few days.

So get an address. You don’t need
a passport to take the Lincoln Tunnel

into New Jersey, at least
the last time I looked.

The coffee’s still warm.

Jessica, would you care
for some with milk?

Thank you.

Miss Johnson, don’t tell me, let me guess.

- Black, right?
- No, thank you.

Look, Jessica, I would love it

if you and Margaret... Jessica? What?

Memory.

The way people order their drinks.

- Say again.
- Margaret, keep a good thought.

It’s 2:00 tomorrow, Nolan.

Now that Walter’s murder is solved,

the Planning Board’s going ahead
with the final hearing.

I think it’s safe to say

we’ll all have reason to celebrate.

I don’t mind tellin’ you,
I slept last night,

knowin’ the cops are off my case.

To sleeping.

Oh, Jessica, what a lovely surprise.

- Do you have a few moments, Carol?
- Of course.

I’ve got a few things to take care of.
Why don’t you have a seat?

Thanks.

I don’t for a moment believe
that Margaret killed Walter Gillrich.

Carol, I must ask you
to be very truthful with me.

And I haven’t been?

You and Eugene Gillrich
were not only bitter enemies,

but each one of you said that
you hadn’t met until the hearing.

That wasn’t the truth?

The night of the rally,

Mr. Gillrich offered us a round of drinks,

and I overheard him
tell the barkeeper

that you preferred one
with an onion,

as you have here.

That’s what I asked for.

No. You simply said a martini.

He volunteered the onion.

You oughta be running our committee.

Eugene Gillrich, on tape,

offering me $50,000 to withdraw
the committee’s objections

to his project.

He thought you’d go for that?

I find that pillow talk
brings out a man’s generosity

and expectations.

And I have to admit,

it wasn’t the most unpleasant
afternoon I’ve ever spent.

You intend to present that
at the hearing?

Push comes to shove, yes.

If I turn this over
to the Planning Board,

Eugene Gillrich won’t be
able to get a permit

to build a doll’s house.

And if they ask you
how you got the tape,

you could be hurt
as badly as Eugene.

Well, maybe less.

My reputation is already a bit tarnished,

and he’s got a wife.

Jessica, in my divorce,

I got the park avenue apartment, period.

$50,000 is inordinately
tempting, but this...

this is more important.

- Hiya, Pete.
- Hello, Al.

Well, that day of days.

My social security check.

Right on schedule.

Hey, listen, would you mind giving
Mrs. Rhodes her mail?

The vestibule’s all blocked up back there.

No problem, Al.

- Is this all?
- That’s it. Have a good one.

Excuse me.

Pete, since you’re on duty,

why don’t you let me take
Mrs. Rhodes up her mail?

Oh, be my guest, Mrs. Fletcher.

My knees, I never mind letting
someone else walk up those four flights.

Hey, pal, you gotta
understand. I can’t lose.

Either this place
gets declared a landmark,

and I stay, or it’s torn down
and I reopen on the East side.

Okay, look,

I’m sure it’s not gonna
come as a big surprise to you

that if Gillrich wins, I win.

And if he loses,
you’re dead, I heard. Too bad.

You ever tend bar? We’re gonna need
some help around here.

That’s cute.

All right, listen,
I have a proposition for you.

You close down the bar for one month
while we dig up the basement

to find the bones of Dutch Schultz’
victims for the TV cameras.

I pay you a fat fee as co-host and
co-producer of my TV special.

Me and my place, coast to coast.

Right. I’m tellin’ you, the tourists
will be lined up from here to Hoboken,

because they saw you
and the 65 on my show.

Yeah. Yeah, I love it.

I’m telling you,

you’re gonna parlay beer,
burgers and blarney

into a huge pile of green cash.

La Rocca, you grave-robbin’ scuzz,

you get outta my joint now!

Mrs. Rhodes?

My name is Jessica Fletcher.

We haven’t met, but I have your mail here.

There’s two magazines,

but no social security check.

Unless you would prefer
that the police deliver it?

Mrs. Fletcher, you caught me.

It was a bit difficult to swallow--

An 87-year-old woman who
subscribes to fitness magazines,

and doesn’t get a social security check.

Mrs. Rhodes was a dear, Mrs. Fletcher.

I mean, in the last months of her life,

I went from visiting nurse to live-in.

I even wrote the checks to pay her bills.

And you gave up your apartment?

Well, nothing much to give up.

I’d been rooming with two other girls.

Anyway, Mrs. Rhodes
had no family or friends,

so she left what little she had to me.

Four years ago, she passed away.

And you never told the landlord.

Mrs. Fletcher, I kept meaning to.

But the days turned to weeks,
and then months,

and then, when I finally started
shopping for an apartment,

the prices were through the roof.

So you kept 4B at a low profile

as nurse to a non-existent patient,

and saved yourself a fortune in rent.

Thousands.

I guess, in the back of my mind,

I knew I was breaking the law, but...

I wonder what the penalty
is for rent fraud.

- Hop in.
- Where to?

Across the street.

See the parking sign?

In three minutes,
we’re all illegally parked here,

so I gotta move across the street

where it’s okay to park after 3:00.

You gotta be crazy to keep a car here.

I am shifting from one side
to the other every couple of days.

Well, it’s the same on my block.

- It’s like musical chairs.
- Yeah, really.

So, meanwhile,
I’m taking cabs and buses.

It’s cheaper than gettin’ towed,

or a garage.

- Josie, that’s it!
- What’s it?

A missing piece.

Thank you very much.

Hurry. Move your car.

Artie, I’m grateful you’re
going out on a limb for me.

- I hope it works.
- Out on a limb? Let me put it this way.

If you’re wrong, school crossing guard’s
gonna look like a promotion.

Wish us luck, Jessica.

I don’t think you’re gonna need it, Carol.

I prefer it that way.
You here on business, Lieutenant?

- Yes, I am.
- So are we. Come on, Carol.

Lieutenant, any new
developments I should know about?

Something that, um,
might affect the outcome?

Hang loose, La Rocca.

You could turn out to
be a development yourself.

I love to make guys like that squirm.

Lieutenant, Mrs. Fletcher.

Not to taint the committee’s
credibility, Lieutenant,

but Miss Johnson, has she confessed yet?

She hasn’t confessed.

- And Mr. Gillrich, you got a minute?
- One.

Okay, a couple of details
I need to clean up.

You stated that you were
at the 65 last Tuesday night

between 6:00 and 9:30.

We’ve done this. The time
is on our bar check.

Lieutenant, you’ve got your killer.
What is this about?

Well, it’s about a parking space,
Mr. Gillrich.

The evening your brother was killed,

Margaret Johnson and I noticed

that your wife was fortunate enough
to find a parking space

almost directly in front of
Number 65 West 64th Street,

despite the fact that
it was a few minutes after 6:00.

Yeah, when most of the spaces
were already long gone.

- What’s wrong with that?
- Oh, nothing.

And when your husband mentioned
that you had taken a cab home,

the inconsistency slipped by me.

- And everybody else.
- Until nurse miles

explained the parking hassle to me.

Mrs. Gillrich, if your car

was parked outside the 65 where I saw it,

why didn’t you drive it home
instead of taking a taxi?

What is this about, Lieutenant?

Honey, you know what
they’re talking about?

I think it’s called common sense, darling.

We’d both been drinking,
so leaving my car and taking a cab home

was the safe, sane thing to do.

Yeah, Gelber, I don’t know
what your game is,

or what kind of balloons
Mrs. Fletcher here is floating,

but I read it as harassment,

and the commissioner
is gonna hear about it

the minute that this hearing is concluded.

Now if you’ll excuse us.

Got it, Lieutenant, just like you said.

Don’t look so disappointed, Henderson.

I warned you we might solve this one.

Mrs. Fletcher and I
weren’t all that certain

this proof existed, Mrs. Gillrich.

Proof? Of what?

I have to ask both of you to
accompany me downtown.

What the hell are these?

Parking ticket issued to your vehicle,

and the log-in sheet from
the impound lot where it was towed

after being ticketed at 9:02
in front of 65 West 64th.

No parking after 9:00 p.m.
that side of the street.

Everyone in the 65
heard the bartender warn

that illegally parked cars
were about to be towed.

You never told me you brought your car.

But you weren’t there, Mrs. Gillrich.

You had gone back to the Gillrich
brothers’ offices to murder Walter.

What?!

I suspect that you took a taxi
to your husband’s office.

And since no one saw you leave the 65 bar,

or return, my guess is
that you used the side door

just beyond the restrooms,
and returned the same way.

And got back too late
to hear the bartender’s warning.

What is this "left by
a side door", Mrs. Fletcher?

- She was with me all evening.
- Not true, Mr. Gillrich.

Part of the night, I saw you
alone with Nolan Walsh.

That’s your signature
from the impound lot.

You retrieved your car the next day.

Ticket and towing, $140.

Doesn’t pay to keep
a car in New York city.

This is insane.

I mean, so my car was towed.

I forgot to move it in time,

and I was embarrassed
to admit it to my husband.

The police have the bullet, Mrs. Gillrich.

I’m fairly certain it will prove

to have been fired from your gun.

Lee?

I lost the gun months ago.

Don’t you remember?

I saw it last week in your dressing table.

Paraffin tests will prove
that you fired it.

Along with everything else,

I doubt we’ll have any trouble getting
a murder one indictment.

Lee, talk to me.

When Margaret got
the phone call from Walter...

I could hear her surprise, and pleasure.

He invited her to meet him at the office,

and I just had to find out
what they were up to,

and Eugene was busy working the room.

I saw a rear exit sign by the powder room,

and I didn’t want to
lose my parking space,

so I took a taxi.

I let myself in with my parking key,

and took the elevator straight up,

bypassing the guard
and the lobby sign-in sheet.

I got to the office
before Margaret and Walter.

I didn’t realize they had met downstairs

for a drink first.

I was ready to give up
waiting when I heard them

coming through the reception area.

I slipped into Eugene’s office.

It was pretty obvious

that Walter was already half convinced

that my husband was
destroying old Manhattan,

and Margaret Johnson was
taking him the rest of the way.

I heard Walter promising

that he’d convince Eugene
to build elsewhere

to spare those decrepit,
God-awful brownstones,

and it was making me furious.

I couldn’t believe that
Walter could find that woman

sexually attractive, but there it was.

She was making the most of it.

I stayed out of sight until she left.

And then, it was my turn
to talk shop with Walter.

For god’s sake, Walter,
what’s your job here?

Getting in the way of a dollar?

What is yours, spying?

Listen, damn you,

Eugene has put everything
he’s got on the line

for this project. Everything.

And you’re willing to buy
a stupid woman’s story--

- Shut up!
- No, I won’t.

Not until I’m finished.

Eugene may feel an obligation
to carry you, Walter,

but I don’t.

You’ve never been anything
but dead weight dragging him down.

Turn around, damn you, I’m not finished.

Fine.

I’ll leave it up to Eugene.

Either he dumps you, or I take a hike.

It’s you or me.

Well, that’s the first
good idea you’ve had.

Let Eugene choose between you and me,

and then, perhaps, he’ll come
to his senses about you.

Lee, close the door on your way out.

Turn around, Walter, or I’ll kill you.

I’m not kidding!

And then,
to make it look as if Walter

was shot by mistake, you wheeled
him into your husband’s office.

And I put Eugene’s chair
in Walter’s office.

When I got back to the 65,
I saw that my car had been towed.

So you said nothing about it,

and took a taxi home to your husband.

Oh, god, Eugene, I’m...

there’s no gun permit on file.

I bought it for her out of state.

I insisted she have it,

for protection.

He wasn’t just my brother.

He was my conscience.

He might’ve talked me into
sparing those BrownStones.

And if it had come to choosing between us?

I’m never gonna have
to make that decision.

And with the preservation designation,

as well as Eugene Gillrich
filing Chapter 11,

and pleading no contest
to bribery charges,

the disputed brownstones are here to stay.

Now, to my father and my grandfather.

And to Eugene O’Neill...

Ernest Hemingway...

oh, Mrs. Rhodes.

Don’t forget Dutch Schultz.

And have I got good news for you.

You mean about Margaret being elected

- Head of the committee?
- Better. My grandson Josh.

We decided against the Wee School.

Kid’s too smart for them, anyway.

Instead, he’s gonna be in
a weekend program

for one-year-olds in central park.

Great. Isn’t it wonderful that
the City has such a program?

What city?

Doris decided she and I are
gonna take Josh and the kids.