All language subtitles for MrSWr1009

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

Hey, neighbors, this is Daffy Dave Novaro.

- Jessica Fletcher?
- Yes.

Consider yourself served
by the State Court of New York.

Anything to see that snake squirm.

The manicurist is telling everyone

I am married to a murderer.

I just wanted to take her head
and stick it in the cuticle softener.

You’ve ruined my life.
I’ve got nothin’ left.

So he beat the rap.
As far as I’m concerned,

the guy’s guilty as hell. Excuse me.

And every day you wait
is gonna cost you money.

I can’t believe the number of lives
I seem to have disrupted.

I also know my father.

He wants restitution, treble damages,

the whole ball of wax. Ten million.

So help me, Fletcher, you’re gonna pay.

What do you think, Jessica?

Well, it certainly is dramatic.

Lurid is more like it,
but it’s what sells paperbacks.

Well, the timing couldn’t be better,

with The Uncaught
on the Times best-seller list

for nine consecutive months,

- The paperback will go through the roof.
- I take it you approve.

Um... how would you feel about putting
a red rose in her outstretched hand?

It would sort of soften it a little bit.

Implying the love that once was.

That’s great.

I’m gonna miss my plane.

I’ll call you a cab.

I cannot tell you
how much I am looking forward

to sitting on the beach in Maui,

and doing absolutely nothing,

and loving every minute of it.

You’re sure I can’t talk you into
one book-signing in Honolulu?

I’m sorry, Ted, but not even
an erupting volcano will prevent me--

Stop, please! You can’t go back there.

- Jessica Fletcher?
- Yes.

Consider yourself served
by the State Court of New York.

I’m sorry, Mr. Hartley.

Just so you don’t
feel cheated, Mr. Hartley,

I got one for you.

"David Novaro, plaintiff."

Who the devil’s David Novaro?

Okay, let’s try it again.
Daffy Dave, take five...

and cue Dave.

Hey, neighbors, this is Daffy Dave Novaro

telling you to run, don’t walk,

to Daffy Dave’s videorama. Look at this.

Every set red-tagged at prices

you’re not gonna believe.

No wonder they call me Daffy.

Look here. Two, three, ha hoo.

I made a mistake on that,

- Maybe we can go back and do this again.
- Cut.

- Sorry, Eli. I’m kinda distracted.
- Yeah, tell me about it.

How about we take a break?

Daffy Dave is currently having

a two-for-one videotape...

Dave, one more phone call
from our suppliers,

and I’m gonna scream.
You’ve gotta sign these checks.

Lillian, not now, huh?

Ramon, who are you gonna
sell back to here, me?

Up front muy pronto.

Yes, Sir, Mr. Dave.

How about some good news for a change,

like some bucks comin’ in?

What’s the problem this time?

- You’re his partner. You talk to him.
- What am I gonna say?

Some dame writes a book and ruins
his life, he should forget about it?

Our life, Neil.

It’s ruining our life.

Another month like the last one,

and we’re out of business.

Mrs. Fletcher, your mystery novel,
The Uncaught

do you remember your source material?

My source material.

Specifically relating to
the young wife’s murder.

I believe in your book,
you called her Rebecca Galway.

Aaron, there was no source material.

The entire plot--
The situation, the characters--

They all came out of my imagination.

You’re absolutely sure?

Because according to Novaro’s lawyer,

The Uncaught is a thinly disguised account

of his first wife’s murder five years ago.

That’s absurd.

That’s only the half of it.

Novaro was charged with the murder,

and was eventually exonerated.

The case against him was dropped, closed.

Until my book comes along,

inflicting severe mental anguish,

economic hardship, et cetera, et cetera.

That’s what they’re claiming, yes.

What damages are they asking?

With restitution, treble damages,

the whole ball of wax, ten million.

What about our errors
and omissions insurance?

- Doesn’t that cover us?
- Only up until five million,

but that won’t help Mrs. Fletcher.

Since you wrote the book,
the insurance company could turn around

and sue you for full restitution.

In your contract with Ted, you represented

that it was your own original material.

And it was.

Ted, will you stop fretting?

Not only have I never heard of this man,

nor of the circumstances
surrounding his late wife,

in my book, the man
is guilty of the murder.

Which, unfortunately,
could work against you.

Oh, yeah, that claim of
severe mental anguish.

In the eyes of the law,
Novaro was judged innocent,

and therefore entitled to
his good reputation.

Well, as far as I’m concerned,

the charges are totally capricious,

and I’m not gonna allow them to stop me

from taking the first flight to Hawaii.

Mrs. Fletcher, I’m afraid that
won’t be possible.

You’re scheduled to give
a deposition tomorrow morning.

I see.

Well, in that case,

Ted, I would like your research staff

to dig up every iota
of information that you can

about the Novaro murder,
and the quicker, the better.

I’ll get right on that.

Trust me, Ted.

I write fiction,

and that’s all my book is...

a pure fiction.

Attention,
all Daffy Dave shoppers.

Uh-oh. Tell the wife
I’m in conference, okay?

Yes, Sir.

Remember, Dave’s not crazy;
he’s just a little Daffy.

No, you don’t, Dave.

Hi, sweetheart.

What happened to the aerobics class?

I’ve had it, Dave.
Today is the last straw.

Please, Iris, not here.

Just now, at the hairdresser’s,

the manicurist is telling everyone

I am married to a murderer.

I just wanted to take her head
and stick it in

- the cuticle softener.
- I’m sorry, honey.

And this morning,
after you left the house,

three calls from tabloids wanting articles

on "I married a killer."
Three phone calls, Dave.

- Okay, okay.
- No, it is not okay.

Dave, ever since that book came out,

it’s like... it’s like
I don’t exist anymore.

You’re never home, we never talk,

you haven’t touched me in months.

- It’s like I’m married to a zombie.
- Iris!

It is just like five years ago,

- and I have had it.
- Can we talk about this later?

Dave, there is no later.
I’m seeing a lawyer.

No. Now, come on.

I know I’ve been a little crazy lately,

trying to hold the business together,
but I swear, honey,

we’re gonna walk away
from this lawsuit with millions.

And then, it’s just you and me, babe.

I swear I’ll make it all up to you.

We’ll travel, maybe buy
that house in the mountains.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.
It’s always maybe with you.

So at least think it over, okay?

I mean, divorce? Iris.

It’s not like returning a dress
to Bergdorf’s.

We’re talkin’ a lifetime here.

Commitment.

I love you, Iris.

I need you, now more than ever.

Well...

it’s not like I’m gonna
change my mind or anything.

Hey, that’s all a guy has to hear.

- Hello, Iris.
- Oh! Hi, Neil.

You okay?

I couldn’t help but overhear.

If you need someone to talk to...

Oh, Neil, that’s sweet of you. Thanks.

But this is between Dave and me.

Just remember, I’m here for you,

just like the old days.

You don’t give up, do you, Neil?

Well, did you tell him?

I tried to.

I thought he was gonna go ballistic on me,

so I promised him I’d think it over.

Oh, Randy, don’t be like that.

He is going through hell right now.

I’ll tell him about us next week.

I gotta tell you, Iris, I’m worried.

Why? Oh, honey, we’re gonna do this.

I’m talking about time and timing,

not for me, for you.

And videorama’s dying.

Every day you wait
is gonna cost you money.

You know, if I thought for one minute

that this, us, was about money...

Look, I’m gonna pretend
you didn’t just say that.

Honey, I’m sorry.

If you still love this guy,
please, just say so.

Come on, you know that isn’t true.

Look, all I’m saying is,
if you love someone

who gave a bum like Novaro
the best years of her life,

you want that person
to get what she’s entitled to,

no matter what it is, right?

Local tv huckster
Daffy Dave Novaro

has brought a $10 million

defamation of character lawsuit

against famed mystery writer J.B. Fletcher

and her publisher.

Seen here five years ago
at the time of his arrest

- for the murder of his wife--
- Artie Gelber?

Accompanied by his lawyer,
Novaro had this to say

earlier today.

Sure, I’m gonna sue. Wouldn’t you?

I thought I went through the ultimate pain

five years ago
when someone murdered Janet.

Well, this book has brought it all
back in spades.

Hello.

Hello, Mrs. Fletcher,
a Mr. Trent is here to see you.

Ah, thank you, Richie.
Have him come right up, please.

I just wanted to thank you for proving
to the world what I always knew.

Jury or no jury,

Dave Novaro murdered my daughter.

Mr. Trent, I can appreciate how you feel,

but there is no connection
whatsoever between my book

and Janet Novaro’s tragic death.

That’s impossible.

The truth is, I agreed to see you

because I hoped that you
could spread some light

on the discrepancies which will
help to prove my point.

But it’s all there,

even their most intimate marital problems.

You mean, she had an affair?

Almost. She came this close. She told me.

But Janet wasn’t that kind of woman,

despite the fact that,
like the couple in your novel,

Novaro was so obsessed with his business,

he didn’t have time for her.

Divorce was inevitable.

But that’s not the case in my book.

Mrs. Fletcher, you’re splitting hairs.

I’ll give you the only difference.

David Novaro murdered not once, but twice.

Twice?

My wife, Mrs. Fletcher. Janet’s mother.

She never recovered from the grief.

She died six months
after Janet was murdered.

I’m sorry.

So if I can be of help...

perhaps by testifying on your behalf,

anything, let me know.

Anything to see that snake squirm.

Well, thank you, Mr. Trent.

It’s quite clear that
we have vastly different motives,

and while I can understand how you feel,

I have no wish to hurt Mr. Novaro.

I only want to prove to him, and to you,

that you are mistaken about my book.

You do what you have to do,

and I’ll do what I have to do.

It was routine stuff.

Pretty much like in your book.

He and his wife get separated,

she goes and has the locks changed.

He’s smart.

His garage door opener still works,

but instead, Novaro
breaks through a window,

bludgeons his wife to death,

and steals a bunch of jewelry

to make it look like it was a burglary.

- Novaro?
- Okay, so he beat the rap.

As far as I’m concerned, the guy’s
guilty as hell. Excuse me.

- You’re sure?
- Trust me. Jessica,

the guy’d be rotting in prison

if it wasn’t for one key piece of evidence

- Falling apart on us.
- Which was?

Faulty lab report of Novaro’s DNA.

DNA?

Taken from a particle of skin

found under the wife’s fingernails,

just like in your book.

You know, it’s amazing.

I was in Cabot Cove
when I wrote The Uncaught.

I never heard of the case,
but one after another,

the similarities just keep piling up.

Come on, Jessica, this is Artie.

You didn’t see a New York paper?
It got a lot of ink.

Look, Artie, I’m positive.

Yeah, so how come, in here,

you’ve even got the wife’s
husband ditching the car

in a reservoir to make it look like
the intruder used it for a getaway?

You mean that’s what actually happened?

The Croton Reservoir.

They fished it out a couple of days later.

But there are differences, aren’t there?

Oh, sure, a couple of minor things.

The weapon, the time of day,
the number of kids.

Oh, yeah, your guy stole some...

your guy stole some rare stamps

to make it look like a robbery
instead of the jewelry.

And, oh, of course,

your killer used
a garage door opener to get in.

Anything else?

Yeah. I’m trying to get rid of my car.

Eight years old,
low mileage, mint condition.

Driven by a little old
Police Lieutenant from Queens

who spends more money on
parking than he does for rent.

Well, I’ll keep my ears open.

That isn’t quite what I had in mind.

I was hoping that you
could help me write an ad.

You know, a grabber.
Fresh, but not too different.

- Novaro?
- His daughter.

Real piece of work herself if our phone
conversations are any indication.

You know, I can’t remember the last time

I had to give a deposition.

Don’t worry.

You’re gonna be just fine.

Hey, doesn’t counsel get a goodbye hug?

I don’t know what
I’d do without you, sweetheart.

Oh, I’ll be right with you, Mr. Woodman.

Mrs. Fletcher.

- You!
- Daddy.

Lady, you’ve ruined my life.

I’ve got nothing left.

My business, my marriage, my health,

gone, down the tubes, all thanks to you.

Mr. Novaro, please, you should not
be speaking to my client.

Oh, that’s right, I forgot.

We gotta keep it civilized.

She can call me a wife killer,

but we gotta protect
your client at all costs.

Mr. Novaro, have you read The Uncaught?

What for? To aggravate
myself all over again?

Thanks but no thanks.

Well, perhaps you should read it

before disrupting both of our lives.

Look, I’m sorry for any discomfort
you may have experienced,

but my book is not
what you or your advisors think.

Right, and I’m Jojo the Dog-faced Boy.

Daddy, I’ll handle this,
I promise. Go now.

But I’ll get even.

So help me, Fletcher, you’re gonna pay.

Now, Mrs. Fletcher,
about the murderer’s motive.

In my book, the motive is two-fold.

Misguided love turned to hatred,

and money,

as it is with any number of mystery novels

since the genre was invented.

We’re taking a deposition, Mrs. Fletcher,

not writing an editorial.

That cuts both ways, Counselor.

One last question.

Do you recall the value you placed

on the block of rare stamps--

The so-called inverted block

of 1924 U.S. air mails

the husband in your book
planned to convert

into cash after the murder?

Yes, it was $250,000.

$250,000.

Exactly the appraised value
of the diamond necklace

that was stolen while my mother lay dead.

While the victim lay dead.

Correction noted,

as is the fact that both the appraisal
of the victim’s necklace,

and the summary of
Mr. Novaro’s financial problems

were made public knowledge
during his trial.

Thank you both. We’ll be in touch.

Excuse me, Miss Novaro.

- I presume this is your mother.
- Mm-hmm.

And this would be
the necklace that was stolen.

A few pieces were recovered
when they found my mother’s car,

but not the necklace.

If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.

It’s absolutely uncanny, Ted.

I mean, the similarities between my book
and the Novaro affair

far outweigh the differences.

I hate to admit it.

It doesn’t look good.

Well, well, well.

I thought that was you.

I beg your pardon.

Iris. Mrs Iris Novaro.

Now surely, that name rings a bell.

- Young lady, please.
- You and your lousy book.

You know, you wrecked my marriage.

Oh, Mrs. Novaro, please, sit down.

With you? You gotta be kidding.

I oughta be suing you, too,
the way you made me look.

I beg your pardon.

Yeah, I was Dave’s secretary
before we were married.

But I was not a bimbo the way you had it,

and we were not fooling around.

Uh, Marcel.

The past was over and done with

until your book came along.

Madam, please, if you continue,
I will have to ask you to leave.

I hope Dave takes you to the cleaners.

Now don’t take it to heart, Jessica.

The woman’s obviously disturbed.

Well, that makes two of us.

I can’t believe the number of lives
I seem to have disrupted.

I just hate seeing you being battered
from pillar to post like this.

Think.

You yourself say there’s enough
damning evidence

to convince a jury.

Not to mention
the astronomical legal costs

- if we go to trial.
- Ted, what are you saying?

I’m suggesting that
you give some serious thought

to an out-of-court settlement.

No, I can’t.

Don’t reject it out of hand, Jess.

Collins was right.
Because of all the publicity,

The Uncaught is selling like wildfire.

We lose, but we win.

Ted, you are completely missing my point.

A settlement would be an admission

that I had stolen Dave Novaro’s story,

that I had purposely smeared him,

and I didn’t,

and somehow, I am going to prove it.

Hey, Woodman.

Couldn’t get a cab, huh?

Oh, that’s cute.
Let me guess, you drive a porsche.

I did. Traded it in for a beemer.

Oh, well, that figures. Well, Mr. Beemer.

This is for you. It’s a court order

barring further sales
and promotion of The Uncaught.

Have a nice day.

Hey. Hey, wait a minute.

I can’t. I’m low on air.

Dave.

I thought you were thinking it over.

Dave, not here.

Moving out of the house,
that’s thinking it over?

That’s not a house, it’s a morgue.

I need some space.
I need a place to breathe.

Okay.

But I still got a chance, right?

Oh, Dave, I don’t know.

- You forgot to take Freddie.
- Dave

I won him for you
at Coney Island, remember?

Right next to Nathan’s.

Yeah. Look, he’s still
got his mustard stains, too.

Yeah. And the trial.

Five years ago.

Our signal meaning "I love you."

I know. Everyone thought I had an allergy.

That kept me going, doll.

You bein’ there for me.

Ah, don’t worry.

I gotta take off now.

As long as I still have a chance.

That’s all I ask.

How could you, Rachel?

How could you represent that monster?

Grandpa, he’s my father. I love him.

He also murdered your mother,
or don’t you remember?

Oh, I remember. And I wish you would, too.

A jury decided he was innocent.

Wrong. All that jury decided

was the prosecution
failed to prove its case.

I’ll never forget the night I called her

to tell her I was accepted
at NYU law school.

She was so happy,
she couldn’t wait to tell daddy.

And then...

look, grandpa, we both know

you didn’t like daddy
from the time you met him.

I accept that.

But you have to accept
where I’m coming from.

You look just like your mother.

What I’m trying to say is you’ve gotta put

all these awful memories behind you,

for both our sakes.

She was so beautiful.

So full of life.

She’d walk into a room,
and it was like the sun--

Grandpa, please.

She could’ve had anybody.

Anybody.

But she had to run off and marry him.

It got you me.

I love you, grandpa.

And I love you, honey.

But it’s not right.

It’s not right that your mother
lies dead in her grave,

and he’s still alive.

Grandpa, I know I can’t change your mind,

but you aren’t gonna change mine.

You owe it to your mother.

What?

To let that woman crucify my father?

You’ve gotta stop this.

Why? Because he was nice to you?

Al Capone was nice to his kids.

- That’s not fair.
- Life’s not fair, Rachel.

Your father got off on
a technicality, and you know it.

Listen, Dave, I’ve just gone
over the books.

We need to start cuttin’ expenses,

beginnin’ with the commercials.

Neil, not now. I’m busy.

Yeah, Dave, all that production.

It’s costin’ us a fortune,

and they’re not bringin’ in any business.

We gotta do ’em
on the cheap or forget ’em.

Listen, you, I call the shots around here,

and don’t you forget it.

Ever since we were kids,
everything you got

was thanks to me, so go now, huh?

Don’t make me sorry
I took you along for the ride.

I finished the payroll,
Dave, and I’ll lock up.

Thanks, Lillian.

Oh, by the way,

we have to go over the accounts tomorrow.

I wanna know where all this money’s going.

Well, sure, Dave.

Any time.

I’m sorry it’s not working with Iris.

Funny. When we were in high school,

the biggest crisis of our lives

was who we were gonna end up with
at the prom.

Remember?

I thought you’d never ask,
and then you called.

Then and there, I figured, that’s it.

We were gonna get married,
and have a bunch of kids.

But that’s life, huh?

Hello. Who?

Dave Novaro, Mrs. Fletcher.

Listen, we gotta talk right away.

Look, I’m sorry, Mr. Novaro,

but I heard all I wanna
hear from you this morning.

No, you don’t understand.

- I’m thinking of dropping the lawsuit.
- What?

I took what you said to heart.

I’ve been reading your book.

And thanks to you,

I think I know who murdered my wife,

but I gotta ask you a couple of questions.

Look, I must tell you, Mr. Novaro,

my attorney has advised me
not to talk to you

under any circumstances.

Please, Mrs. Fletcher,
I was a lousy husband,

but I loved my wife.

Nailing her killer means more to me

than all the money in the world.

Well, all right, Mr. Novaro.

My address is 941 West 60th, Apartment 4B.

Apartment 4B. Got it.

I’ll be there in 20 minutes.

Oh, for Pete’s sake.

It’s kinda cold out here tonight, Dave.

Hilda, what do you think I am,
a money machine?

Here. Here’s ten bucks.

Go get yourself something to eat,

but this is the last time.

God bless you, Dave.

That’s curious.

Operator.

Operator, I’ve been calling a number
that’s been busy over an hour.

I wonder, could you check to see

if someone’s talking on the line?

- The number, please?
- 555-4410.

Will you pay the charges?

Yes, I’ll pay the charge.

There’s no one on the line.

- No one on the line.
- That’s correct, ma’am.

Thank you very much.

- Well?
- Drives okay.

You offering any kind of warranty?

What do you want from me?
The car’s eight years old.

You see what kind of great shape it’s in.

Gelber.

Jessica, I thought all the regular people
were asleep.

I’m sorry to bother you, Artie,

but I’m concerned.

Something may have
happened to Dave Novaro.

- How so?
- He was due at my apartment

over two hours ago.

Could you meet me at his store?

Why not? I only need about
ten hours of sack time a week.

I’ll be there.

Thanks. Bye.

About the car, think about it.

But I gotta have an answer
by tomorrow morning.

There’s a guy in Bayside
who’s about ready to commit.

Okay, I’ll buy it.

Ho ho.

Henderson, believe me,

you are gonna thank me for this.

Yeah, I was one of the last to see him.

I can’t believe it.

We grew up together.

I mean, we weren’t just partners.

We were best friends.

Okay. Thanks.

Did Novaro say anything more specific

than "I’ve been reading your book"?

Yes, he did.

He said, "Thanks to you,

I think I know who murdered my wife."

Lieutenant, it had to be a break-in.

My computer and my
petty cash box are missing.

Huh, a break-in.

What did Yogi Berra used to say?

Deja something.

Deja vu all over again.

Henderson, take a statement
from Mrs. Conway.

Miss Conway.

Uh, I kept the petty cash box
in the drawer...

I presume you’re gonna
have every page fingerprinted.

Just curious.

Henderson.

Henderson?

This goes to forensics asap.

Rachel, I’m so sorry about your dad.

Thank you.

But if you think my father’s death

is going to put an end to the lawsuit,

you’ve got another thing coming.

It’s true, Jessica.

As executor of her father’s estate,

Miss Novaro can continue to pursue
an ongoing legal action.

Well, it looks like this fruit punch
is as close to hawaii

as I’m ever gonna get.

About Rachel.

Miss Novaro.

Was she all right?

She’s having a hard time.

Hello. Artie.

Just got the lab report on the book.

Novaro’s fingerprints
track up to the first paragraph

on page 247.

247. Any other developments?

Yeah. Henderson loves the car.

Oh, good. Thanks again, Artie.

- What’s this?
- Door handle.

I unlocked the door, the whole thing
came off in my hand.

Amazing.

I drove it eight years.
That never happened.

As legal counsel
for Parents United,

I intend to show that the location
of the hazardous waste dump

near the Stony Lake Elementary School

poses an immediate riskand danger

to all the childrenand adults...

Yes?

Rachel, please forgive me.

I know that this is a bad time.

I’m really quite busy.

But it is important that we talk, please.

It could hold the key
to your mother’s murder,

and quite possibly your father’s, as well.

I find that hard to believe,

but do go on.

Well, your father’s fingerprints

indicate that he’d reached
the top of page 247

of my novel,

when something he read inspired him

to pick up the phone and call me.

You’re sure?

Well, unfortunately, no.

I was hoping that you might
be able to shed some light

on this particular passage.

May I?

Yes, please.

Thank you.

"Alec smiled. Every base was covered."

"Kelly, his secretary,
would order him in a sandwich"

"before leaving to run
a long list of personal errands,"

"giving him more than enough
time to slip out the fire exit,"

"drive home, dispose of Rebecca,"

"then slip back into his office"

"to resume the mantle
of office workaholic."

Does any of that strike a chord?
Anything at all?

No, nothing.

Mrs. Fletcher, I know you mean well,

and I appreciate your interest,

but I’m really running into
a bit of a time problem here.

Of course. I understand.

Isn’t that the necklace
that your mother wore

in the photograph?

The one that disappeared the day she was--

It’s a paste copy daddy had made

when he had to pawn the original

during some hard times.

He was too proud to admit
he was down on his luck,

and he knew how much she loved it.

- Did she know?
- No, he never told her.

When his business turned around,

he redeemed the original
and gave me this one.

I don’t know why I keep it.

Ever since what happened to mother,

I hate everything about it.

Pretend it’s not there.

It is the contentionof Parents United...

The remote control.

It wasn’t there.

Rachel, may I use your phone, please?

Sure.

You’re late. Out joy-riding?

Miss that car already.

You didn’t tell me about the gas gauge.

What didn’t I tell you?

That it’s backwards.

It indicates "F" when it means "E."

Sometimes, okay, yes.

Every couple of years or so,
it goes a little hinky

for a couple of days. No big deal.

I had to push it
off the Long Island Expressway.

I caused a traffic back-up
four miles long.

And then, there’s the left turn indicator.

I’ll take care of it.

Gelber.

Artie, it’s Jessica.

I have an important question to ask

about Janet Novaro’s car.

Sure. I’ll pull the file. My pleasure.

Thanks.

Everybody’s car crazy.

Lieutenant, we need you in forensics.

Can’t get settled down here.

Come on.

Hey.

How you holdin’ up?

Okay. What’s all this?

It’s a surprise.
I got us out of our lease.

Randy, what are you talking about?

Yeah, I sweet-talked the landlady.

It’s only gonna cost us
a couple of months’ rent.

But why? Where are we going?

Where we going?

Where do you think? Your house.

Randy, are you crazy?

Look, I know how hard it was
for you to leave,

and now, you can have it all again.

I don’t wanna stand in your way.

We can do barbecues on the patio.

Randy, I don’t have a house.

What do you mean?

I mean, Dave made me sign

a pre-nuptial agreement.
Everything goes to Rachel.

You’re kidding?

- Oh, God.
- Everything?

Oh, I couldn’t even see
the forest for the muscles.

Iris, you’re not making any sense.

No, honey, but you finally are.

That’s all this ever was, wasn’t it?

And I bought it.
I was just like a little girl

- on her first trip to the Big Apple.
- No, that’s not true.

Don’t you know by now that...

Are you sure? Everything?

Here.

Just so it’s not a total loss,
just take it all.

Iris, where the hell you goin’?

I don’t know, Randy,

but when I get there,
don’t expect a postcard.

Excuse me, Detective Henderson.

They told me downstairs
that the Lieutenant was out,

but he said that he would dig out
Janet Novaro’s file for me.

Right.

I’m sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, but he didn’t
say anything to me about it.

I see. Well, I wonder, would you...

Jessica, you can forget the theories.

We’ve got Dave Novaro’s murderer.

And since Novaro
murdered this man’s daughter,

we can button that case up, too.

Artie, Norman Trent
was bitter, but murder?

Oh, Jessica, you can bet the house on it.

Number one, we recovered
the murder weapon.

The cane.

It was in a dumpster
just outside Novaro’s store.

Number two, forensics says
his fingerprints were all over the joint.

Number three, he was seen
coming out of his apartment

just before the murder, and number four,

unlike the Janet Novaro murder,

we’ve got us an eyewitness.

She had just gotten a handout from Novaro.

She was leaving the area
when Trent showed up.

Novaro must’ve forgotten
to relock the door,

because Trent let himself in.

On top of which,
Trent admits to being there.

- Says he intended to kill him.
- He confessed?

No, he’s giving us some cock-and-bull
story about second thoughts.

And then he claims
that somebody entered the store,

he panicked, so he rushed out,
and that’s when he dropped the cane.

Yes, but what puzzles me is,

how could an infirm, elderly old gentleman

like Mr. Trent overcome
a younger, much stronger man?

Much as he hated Mr. Novaro,

why would he alienate
forever his only granddaughter?

Come on, Jessica.
We’re talking passion here.

Blind rage that finally boiled over.

Still, I’d like to see the photographs
of Janet Novaro’s car.

All right.

Thank you.

Gelber.

Just now?

All the shocks?

Okay, Henderson, okay. I’ll pay for them.

Artie, you said that

even though all the locks
had been changed,

Dave Novaro had a garage door opener

in his possession?

Yeah, it still worked.

Janet Novaro never changed the code.

Well, then his wife
must’ve had a door opener, too.

Look. You can see the impression

where it was clipped to the sun visor.

- So?
- Well, where is it?

Well, it should be in the inventory.

Well, it isn’t there, is it?

Huh. Well, it wasn’t
submitted in evidence.

What does that prove?

Well, if I’m not mistaken,

then Norman Trent is innocent,
and so was Dave Novaro.

Now, why don’t you call his daughter?

And I wonder if I could trouble you for

a classified telephone directory.

Thank you.

Like Dave Novaro,

we place ourselves in God’s hands,

asking not why such a good and decent man

was taken from us so young,

but how we can better understand

that it was God’s will.

And now, let us join together
in silent prayer.

- Iris.
- Go away.

Rachel, I’m really sorry
about your father.

Thank you.

And now,
the words that echo through all of time:

earth to earth, ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.

May His smile shine upon us all

unto eternity.

In the name of the Father,

the Son, and the Holy Spirit,

we pray.

Amen.

- How did it go?
- I think we’ll know in a few minutes,

if we follow that limousine.

You can relax, Iris.

That’s the real one, all right.

Rachel was wearing this paste copy
you never knew existed.

You’re under arrest, Mrs. Novaro,

for the murder of
your husband and Janet Novaro.

You have the right to remain silent.

Anything you say can and will be
used against you

in a court of law.

You people are out of your minds.

- I didn’t murder anyone.
- Oh, but you did.

You murdered Janet Novaro out of jealousy

after learning that she and Dave
had planned to reconcile.

Then you stole this necklace

to make it look like a robbery.

Beautiful, indeed.

Not to mention worth a cool 250 grand,

comes the rainy day when things between

you and Novaro don’t pan out.

No way. Dave killed her

for the insurance and the necklace,

and then asked me to hide it for him.

- Nice try, Iris.
- Quite an irony.

A passage from my book,

which I have been
defending as pure fiction

is what tipped off Mr. Novaro

that it was you
who murdered his first wife,

and tipped me off, as well.

I don’t know what the hell
you’re talking about.

"Kelly, his secretary,"

"would order him in a sandwich"

"before leaving to run
a long list of personal errands,"

"giving him more than enough
time to slip out the fire exit"

"drive home, dispose of Rebecca..."

- And what does that have to do with me?
- Everything, lady,

since you were Novaro’s secretary

at the time of his wife’s murder.

Your husband read that,
and suddenly remembered

he’d given his wife’s garage opener

to his secretary to have it repaired

several weeks before her death.

He gave it to you, Iris.

And when I confirmed
that Janet Novaro’s garage opener

was never located,
I realized it had to be you

who used your lunch hour
to pick up the opener,

slip into the house
through the garage, and kill her.

There’s no way you can prove that.

I believe we can.

I tracked down the repair shop.

It was just up the street
from Daffy Dave’s.

We also got the receipt that you picked up

and signed the day of the murder.

And we checked your
gasoline credit card receipts.

You filled up a mile from the house

within minutes of the murder.

That’s the one thing I didn’t figure on.

Dave never stopped loving Janet.

I think that’s what ticked me off so much

that night when I stopped by the store

to tell him I didn’t want
a divorce after all.

Someone was justrunning out of the store.

That would’ve beenNorman Trent.

According tohis statement,

he went thereto avenge his daughter

but was havingsecond thoughts.

Well, he was insuch a hurry to get out,

he left his cane.

That was Dave’smisfortune.

He stormed out ofhis office saying

he’d read your bookand it reminded him

of how he’d given me
the damn garage opener to get fixed,

and that was the way I got
back into the house.

And the fact is, it was all true.

It made me angry.
I forgot why I was there,

because he was gonnacall the police.

That’s when I hit himwith the cane.

Dave.

I cleaned my prints off it,
and threw it in the dumpster

down the street.

After all these years,

no way was I gonna go to jail.

You wanna bet?

Weird. In a way, your novel
turned out to be

right on the money after all.

- In a lucky way.
- Yeah. Incidentally,

if you hear of anybody that wants
to buy my car, give me a jingle.

I thought you’d sold it
to Detective Henderson.

I did. Unfortunately, some people are just

not cut out to own
an automobile with character.

Hey, Jessica, we wanted to catch you
before you left for hawaii.

And make it official
that I’ve dropped the lawsuit.

- Well, thank goodness.
- And Jessica,

guess who’s opening up
a law practice together.

Not you two?

Well, that’s wonderful. Congratulations.

Down on the Lower East Side
where people really need representation.

I thought we agreed on Midtown
near my corporate accounts.

Aaron, a general practice means everybody.

Look, Aaron, Rachel,
when you make up your minds,

please, send me an announcement...

to Maui.