All language subtitles for MrSWr1010

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

This old place must be haunted

with the spirits of old actors.

This has gotta be the Jessica
I’ve heard so much about.

I have never collaborated,
Glenda, and I don’t intend

to start now.

Let’s be quite clear about something.

I don’t write plays, Miss Shaughnessy.

At any cost, I’m going to protect Glenda.

For goodness sakes,
stay out of this, Lawson.

I’m not going to let anybody hurt you.

Could be it’s all an act.

I think these will do the job.

The murder weapon was wiped almost clean,

except for your prints, Mrs. Fletcher.

Don’t forget what trouble
I can make for you.

God, you’re repulsive!

If I may be permitted an opinion.

You’re not, Mr. Harrington.

Glenda, this is bloody unconscionable.

You can’t just walk out
of rehearsal on the second day.

I’m bloody well doing it.

We have a contract.

The contract stipulates

that I have all creative approval.

I approved a very clever
novel by Jessica Fletcher,

which, during its adaptation
for the stage play,

developed major problems.

Mae, I’m sorry.

I can’t think of a more
tactful way of putting it.

Oh, please, Glenda.

Darling, I know you’re hurt,

but the truth is, you’ve lost touch

with the heart of the story.

Perhaps it’s because you’ve
never done a mystery before.

Glenda, you know we can’t
open without you.

Just tell me what to do,
and I’ll do it... won’t we, Mae?

I’m not doing another thing
until Jessica gets here.

Jessica?

I have never collaborated, Glenda,

and I don’t intend to start now.

Won’t you at least meet her?

I know Jessica.

She respects your talent.

The woman can write.

I’ll talk to her.

Well, Glenda, looks like
we’re on the right track.

Jessica will be at the Hyde Park Hotel

in 50 minutes.

Don’t fret, I’ve got somebody meeting her.

And I challenge you
to come up with the proof

and the ambiguous conjecture
I’m hearing now.

It’s going fairly well,

but, Sally, I want you
already at the couch,

and sitting on Glenda’s line...

if we ever have Glenda.

Peter.

Give ’em an early lunch break.

A break? What’s goin’ on?

I couldn’t help hearing.
Is there something--

Leading lady’s playing
all her aces, that’s all.

If it’s about the rewrite
you had Mae do last night,

it’s not working.

Well, it’s your job to make it work.

Okay?

By the way,

I’ve been watching Franklin.

He’s god-awful.

Gonna have to replace him.

Martin, I don’t agree.

That’s because he was your choice.

That’s it for now.

We’ll pick it up after lunch.

Crew dismissed. Save the lights.

What, uh, is wrong with Glenda?

Damn it, Lawson.

Be thankful you’ve got
some time to go over your lines.

And try not to drink your lunch.

Oh, oh, oh.

Come on, kids, and buy me a lemonade.

- Sally?
- Mmm.

Don’t let it get to you.

Thanks, Oliver.

It’s almost summery out on the street.

You could hang meat in this place.

Can’t you afford any heat?

Theater makes its own temperature.

Tell me something I don’t already know.

Well, at some time or other,

there was definitely something going on

between Glenda Highsmith
and the 17th Earl of Glenhaven.

Strange thing is,

I ran into an old acquaintance
of mine the other day.

Another private investigator.

Seems the Earl’s family have got him

looking into Miss Highsmith’s
private affairs, too.

Any help?

No. He knows less than I do.

Which is nothing.

What do you expect
in two-and-a-half weeks?

Besides, there is still
a small matter of £300.

I told you you’ll get it.

Yeah. Be quite sure that I do, Kramer.

Better that than a visit
from some of my friends

on the seamier side of this fair city.

They could make life very painful for you.

Very painful.

Listen, Brooker.

There’s one more to add to your list.

J.B. Fletcher, an American.

She’ll be at the Hyde Park around 12:30.

She and Glenda were friends
when they were kids.

How nice.

- Thank you very much.
- Thank you.

Pardon me.

Hello, Jessica. Nice flight and all that?

Martin.

Sorry to launch myself
unannounced on you like this,

but I wanted a chance
to set a few things straight.

I think that Glenda plans to do just that.

She must’ve told you that I was in London.

And I couldn’t be happier.

I bought your book, didn’t I?

Outbid the world for it, too,

and got Mae Shaughnessy
for the adaptation.

Mistake number one, but who’s to know?

Look, Glenda trusts you, right,

and, well, you can do a lot to pull
this whole deal together.

- But don’t make too many waves, okay?
- Waves?

One more individual living
at the top of her emotions

could push this whole deal over the edge.

Well, I’m here to help Glenda,

and I hope that I shall
be able to help you,

and the project.

Now, if you don’t mind,
Edward is waiting for me.

Of course.

The production’s in
terrible trouble, yes,

and as Glenda’s solicitor,

I’m not at all sure her attitude gives us

a legal leg to stand on.

But I will defend to the death

her right as an artist
to take that position.

Well, bravo, Edward.

Sounds like Glenda, all right.

You’ve known her
for a long time, I take it.

Oh, longer than either
one of us care to remember.

I was making my first trip to London,

Glenda was with the old Vic Company

playing pageboys to Olivier and Gielgud.

Madly in love with a man
who was twice her age.

Johnny something, as I remember.

And Glenda says
you’ve been friends ever since.

Mmm.

You must know Brett Dillon then.

No. Should I?

He’s the young man who lives with her.

Jessica!

Oh, Glen.

This has gotta be the Jessica I’ve
heard so much about.

Jessica, this is Brett Dillon.

Brett.

Ma’am, Glenda has told me all about you.

- It is a real pleasure.
- For me, too.

Brett, why don’t you
take Edward to look at

your cabbage patch,

or somewhere equally uninspiring.

Jessica and I have lots to discuss.

Okey-dokey. Come on, Edward.

How are you at pullin’ weeds, Edward?

Well, one at a time.

I suppose you think I’m a silly old fool.

Brett?

I think he’s a very nice man.

I think I’ve seen most of
Mae Shaughnessy’s plays,

and for the first time,
she seems to be floundering,

as if she isn’t comfortable with
the mystery form.

Well, it’s partly our
commercially minded producer.

Martin’s first and only
production before this

was some dreadful exploitation piece

with bare bottoms and rude songs.

And I’m sure it made tons of money.

Unfortunately, yes.

Glenda, isn’t there an alternative?

I mean, you still have
your wonderful talent,

and there are so many other plays.

Thank you.

And yes, but the juicy parts
are written for the young,

and let’s face it, I can’t pass anymore.

Oh, Jess, I don’t
think I’m kidding myself,

but I think this could
have a really long run.

Edward, you’ve got to be kidding.

I don’t need this just for myself.

I want to build something for Brett.

Enough to allow him to keep this place.

He loves it so.

And to give him some income.

Bless you, Jess.

You are an absolute lifesaver.

And one who must be
getting back to London.

Edward has set up a meeting for me
and Mae Shaughnessy

- at the theater.
- I’ll round up Edward.

- I'd like to give you a few of my notes.
- Good.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Please call me Jessica.

Jessica. Uh...

I don’t get into London that much,

and Friday is Glenda’s birthday.

Well, there’s this
jewelry shop on German Street.

You’re a woman, and you know Glenda,
and I was thinking--

Brett, much as I’d like to help,

a gift of jewelry
is a very personal thing.

I think it would mean much more
to Glenda if you pick it out yourself.

Are we ready?

Yes, we’re ready.

Good luck with your project, Brett.

Another project, Brett?

Haven’t you got enough
between staking the asparagus

and trenching the string beans?

I think that goes the other way round.

Does it? Thank you again, Jess.

It’s September, Glenda is a virgo.

I suggest you might try a sapphire.

Let’s get something on the table here.

I’ve never allowed anybody
to second-guess my work,

and I don’t intend to start now.

I can assure you, the situation
is as uncomfortable for me

as it is for you, Miss Shaughnessy.

But I am here for Glenda.

I’d put anything on the line for Glenda,
except collaboration.

I’ve never collaborated,
not now, not ever.

Let’s be quite clear about something.

I don’t write plays, miss Shaughnessy,

and I did not come here to write yours.

There are some moments in my novel

that I believe that you have missed,

and I believe that I could just
help you to strengthen them.

Now, surely, when Martin Kramer
brought you my book--

Martin Kramer wouldn’t know
a piece of material

if it bit him on the bottom.

I brought the book to her.

He had nothing to do with it.

Didn’t Glenda tell you?

No, she didn’t.

Then maybe we’ve something in common.

We’ve both been lied to by
that sly Martin.

Just what is it you feel
I missed in your book?

I think the key is in the character

that Lawson Childress plays.

- That’s Harrington.
- Yes.

I didn’t pick up my life to come to London

to be used as a scapegoat.

Franklin...

I don’t need this in my...

Franklin, look, it’s all in your head.

Tell me that tomorrow
after he replaces me.

Come on, sweetheart.

The handwriting’s on the wall.

Look, if you won’t believe me,

the creep’s right over there
with my replacement.

His name is Lance Pistol.

If you find that amusing,

you should’ve seen him in that
monstrosity Kramer put on last year.

I heard. Look, Peter really
wants you, sweetheart.

Oh, sure.

What Peter wants is his first West
End Production more,

and he’ll dance to
Martin’s tune to get it.

This is Jessica Fletcher.

Malcolm Brooker, Mrs. Fletcher.

Yes, Mr. Brooker?

Forgive the hour,

but knowing how busy you’ll be

in the next week or two,

I thought we might
set aside a time to talk.

It’s very late, Mr. Brooker.

What did you want to talk about?

Oh, not what, but who, Mrs. Fletcher.

And please, call me Malcolm.

I’m a writer like yourself,

working on a piece for Empire Magazine,

about Glenda Highsmith’s
return to the stage.

Look, surely you’ve
talked to Miss Highsmith,

and I can’t think of
anything that I could add.

Oh, but you can,

about when Miss Highsmith
was very much younger.

Apparently, you two were friends,

and she was involved with
a certain Earl of Glenhaven.

I’ve never heard of any Earl of Glenhaven.

And as I said--

Then perhaps you might have
some thoughts about

her current amour, this American chap.

Mr. Brooker, if I knew anything about

either of these people, which I don’t,

I wouldn’t discuss it
with a stranger over the phone,

or anywhere, for that matter.

Now it’s very late. If you’ll--

Better the facts
than rumor, Mrs. Fletcher.

Think about that.

Thank you, Mr. Kramer.

Hello, Eddie. You’re up late, chappy.

You should know that Glenda received
a call from Mae Shaughnessy,

and she’s satisfied that Mrs. Fletcher
has Mae on the right track.

She’ll be at rehearsal in the morning.

Very good news, Eddie.

You seem to be on top of things.

Kramer, there’s a Malcolm Brooker

who’s hounding everyone on the production,

trying to get privy
information about Glenda.

He says he’s writing
an article for Empire Magazine.

I want you to do something to
get him off our backs.

Brooker.

Haven’t a clue, Eddie.

Well, understand this.

Our arrangement aside,

if I thought for a moment

that Brooker was one of
your blasted control mechanisms

that in your deceitful, underhanded way--

Don’t use your old school tie
with me, St. Cloud.

And don’t forget what trouble
I can make for you.

At any cost, I’m going to protect Glenda.

At any cost?

One phone call, Eddie, and we both know
what your next stop will be.

Would it really matter?

Thanks to you,
every shred of my reputation

with clients and colleagues
rests with this production.

All you have to do

is make sure Glenda works,

and we have a show.

Barbara’s right.

We’ve been shut up
in this mausoleum for two days.

If I may be permitted an opinion--

No, you’re not, Mr. Harrington.

Oh, Martin, I had
a very bizarre phone call

late last night. Malcolm Brooker.

Sure. He’s the write
who’s doing a piece on Glenda

for Empire Magazine.

He’s been on to me, too.
He’s quite harmless.

Just tell him what he wants to know.

Probably do the show some good.

Mae, you’re a genius.

- It’s really beginning to work.
- Couldn’t agree more.

Oliver, make a note.

The armoire has got to be larger
than we’ve got here,

and be sure it’s a Sheraton like the rest.

Uh... Mrs. Fletcher.

Since you’re our resident
expert on murder,

I wonder if you’d do me a huge favor

and help me pick out
a weapon of your choice.

You go ahead, Mae,
and I’ll catch up with you.

I’d just love to, Mr. Childress.

Truth be known, I wore that in
The Misanthrope.

Moliere. One of my favorites.

I was 19 when I played Alceste.

I was young, handsome,
had inordinate ambition.

Somebody said that
the theater is supposed to be

a means for us all to grow
bigger than we actually are.

I just seem to have grown smaller.

Why don’t you poke around in here,

- see what you can find.
- All right.

Oh, these look as if they’d do the job.

Robert Graves gave us a choice, you know,

of women, drink, or snuff.

Women, no more.

Snuff, I can’t stand the stuff.

Isn’t much left other than this.

Oh, yes, that’s much better.

I’m indebted to your expertise,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Surely you know that Glenda has placed

a great deal of faith in you.

Yes, good old Glenda.

You know that she made it a condition

that I played Harrington.

Yes.

Shall we?

Oh, this furnace seems to be
in working order. I wonder why--

Why our penny-pinching producer prefers

to fast-freeze his cast

rather than drop a shilling?

Yes, well, welcome to the world

of Martin Kramer theater, Mrs. Fletcher.

I don’t doubt that you each have a reason

to have killed Amelia Fredericks.

Whichever of you it is,

your conscience will
indict you before the law does.

Much, much better.

Glenda, say your last
lines upstage more, please,

and try to cheat toward the armoire.

By now, she’s beginning to realize

the white raincoat inside
holds a solution to the puzzle.

Very nice, everyone.

Jess, dinner. You, too, Mae.

- I’m meeting Brett at Binky’s at 7:00.
- Okay.

Lights, please.
Take your brollies, people.

It’s raining cats and dogs out there.

Oh, bother. I forgot my raincoat.

- Come along with me. We’ll share a cab.
- All right.

That won’t help your memory.

I’m toasting a memory.

Some things are best forgotten.

Not this one.

Ten years ago today,

September 14th.

No. It wasn’t September.

It was spring.

April or may.

That’s when we first
slept together, May 9th.

I’m talking about
September when you ran off.

Nothing the matter with your memory.

Nothing wrong with me running off, either.

Really?

I know you better than you know yourself.

There was something else
you were running away from.

- Oh, Lawson!
- Don’t tell me to shut up.

It’s to do with that
narky little sniveler,

Malcolm Brooker,
who’s been wandering around,

asking a lot of very important questions.

For goodness sakes,
stay out of this, Lawson.

I’ve got nothing to lose, Glenda.

And I’m not gonna let anybody hurt you.

Dearest man.

I love you for saying that.

But this girl will take care
of herself, don’t worry.

Learn your lines. Do a good job.

That’s what I need from you.

Oh, you’re a peach
to come down here with me.

I’m starting to get goosebumps.

Ooh, I rather like it.

This old place must be haunted

with the spirits of old actors

and property masters.

Stage managers.

Will you shut up?

Now pray that there is a Macintosh

in here for me.

What about that White on in the corner?

Oh, by no means.

You ought to know,
it’s the main clue, isn’t it,

- What she has in the pocket.
- Yep.

Ah, okay, here’s something.

Well, now, this will do nicely.

Martin.

Could I have your ear for a moment?

You can have any part of me, love.

Franklin thinks that you don’t like him,

that you’ve already found his replacement.

I just want to hear you say
it wasn’t true.

Oh, dear.

You put me in a very difficult position.

It’s not me, it’s your director.

Well, Peter hasn’t said anything.

This part is Franklin’s biggest break.

It just means so much to him.

You love the guy, right?

Well, I’m not sure if it’s love, but...

Franklin means a great deal to me.

I guess that shows.

Oh, does it ever.

And, you’re right.

Things don’t look too good
for Franklin right at the moment.

But you can help.

How?

Well, Peter Drew
doesn’t make the decisions.

- I do.
- Yes--

You and me, nothing serious, on the side.

My place is only five minutes from here.

Franklin need never know,
and I guarantee, he’ll stay in the cast.

God! You’re repulsive!

Repulsive?

Love, you don’t know what repulsive is.

Say good-bye to your friend.

Sal, you’ve got to tell me
what’s going on.

I’m sure I can help. Just tell me.

No, I can’t.

Please don’t ask me
any more questions, okay?

All I gotta say is,

something has brought the color
back into Glenda’s cheeks,

and I think I have the two
of you to thank for it.

Well, I admit it.

Jessica has shown me
a few of the tricks of her trade.

And vice-versa.

Sally, please! Please, just...

Sally, wait!

Sally, I’ll get a cab.

Well, I owe both of ya.

Now I’m gonna have to say good night.

Oh, Brett. I thought you were
staying with me at the hotel.

Uh, I can’t.

I got some errands to run. Good night.

Good night, ladies.

Good night.

I suppose it’s beddy-bye for me, too.

I’ve got gobs to memorize,
thanks to you two.

I’ll ride with you, Glen.

Comin’ along, Jessica?

It’ll take you out of your way.

I’m gonna just sit here
and finish my coffee.

All right. Good night then.

Good night. See you in the morning.

So, your unvarnished opinion, Jessica.

Is it really coming together,

or am I kidding myself?

Come off it, Peter.
I’ve been watching you work.

You’re as an accomplished
a director as I have ever seen.

With all the improvements,
I wish Glenda was more into it.

What do you mean?

There’s still something standing
between her and the play,

a pall of some kind,

and it’s affecting her concentration.

Can you put a name on that?

I think I can.

Martin Kramer.

Martin, nice to see you.

Speak of the devil. Excuse me, Jessica.

Peter.

Jessica, what can I say?

You’ve saved the play.

Mae did all the work.

Call for you, Mr. Kramer.

Martin Kramer.

So you’ve come around.

Yeah, what, 9:00?

Hey, of all places.

Yeah, all right. I’ll be there.

You’ll excuse me, Jessica.

Unexpected business.

Oh, of course.

Hello?

Anybody home?

Hide-and-seek, is it?

Oliver Hopkins, our stage manager,

found him first thing this morning.

- What brought Mr. Hopkins down here?
- I’d gone down--

Mr. Drew, if you please.

He, um, he’d gone down
to the wardrobe locker

for a raincoat which
figures importantly in the play.

Get it over to forensics immediately.

I want fingerprints
and blood analysis by 11:00.

Yes, ma’am.

- And, ma’am?
- What is it?

There’s this lady downstairs.

I left Binky’s at 8:00.

Brett had gone just a few minutes before.

- Who’s Brett?
- Who the hell’s asking?

Detective Chief Inspector
Jarvis is asking.

Who’s Brett, Miss Highsmith?
He’s not on our list.

No, he’s not.

Brett is a young man who, at the moment,

happens to be living with me.

Arrange to see him, too. Now...

can anyone tell me who a Mrs. Fletcher is,

and what she has to do with this?

Look at this over here;
what do you make of that?

You’re the J.B. Fletcher who writes
books about murder and mayhem.

The former, mostly, yes. And you are?

Detective Chief Inspector
Jarvis, Scotland Yard.

I’ll have to ask you to leave
this area. It’s not customary.

I quite understand.

- I just can’t resist.
- Mrs. Fletcher.

Mrs. Fletcher, are you coming?

Oh, yes, of course.

Lester, this is Jessica Fletcher.

Jessica!

How marvelous to hear your voice.

Will we be able to have lunch?

Well, I’d love to, Lester,
but I don’t have much time.

Listen, you must know as much as anybody

about the current peerage in England.

Does the name Glenhaven
mean anything to you?

Well, of course.
The 17th Earl of Glenhaven.

Oh, he’s a splendid fellow.

He’s a member of my club.

But surely, you know that John’s dying.

He’s in the hospital now.

John? John who?

Just a moment.

John Camden, the 17th Earl of Glenhaven.

Now, Jessica, what does
your calendar look like?

No time, Lester. I’ll call, I promise.

You look as if you’ve just about had it.

Come inside.

Oh, save me from policemen.

The only good thing that’s happened

is that Edward’s checked the financing,

and the show can
go forward without Martin.

Oh, I’m so happy to hear that, Glen.

Listen, I’ve got a question to ask.

When we were much, much younger,

I remember that you were
madly in love with

a very handsome grenadier.

Of course you remember.

John Camden.

To put it a little obviously,

I wasn’t aware of his lineage then.

You’re on to me, aren’t you?

John never told me,

and infatuation blinded me to

any such possibility

that he could be the heir to

the Earldom of Glenhaven.

I was so much in love.

We married secretly,

and by the time he told his parents,

I was already pregnant.

With Brett.

I noticed that you don’t
touch the way lovers touch,

that’s all.

Why the deception, Glen?

John’s parents were insisting on

an abortion and divorce.

I was touring in America at the time,

so I ran away and had the baby in Tulsa.

With the Dillon family.

Well, they seem to have done
an excellent job as parents.

When the divorce was final,

I told John I’d miscarried.

I haven’t spoken to him since.

But his family found out anyway.

They only suspect.

John’s dying,

and his family have started fishing.

Of course, which would explain

what this Malcolm Brooker’s real game is.

He must be working for the family.

Has he found out anything about Brett?

I don’t think so.

But he could be close.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.

Forgive the mess, but as you can see...

I take it you’re just moving in.

Right.

Now, you said on the phone

that you wanted to be helpful
to this investigation.

I’m not sure what that means.

We took your deposition.

Well, I’m a good friend

of Glenda Highsmith.

If I can help her
to get past this tragedy,

and see that the play succeeds...

Well, go on.

Well, there was a man
haunting the production

who says that he wants to write
a magazine piece on Glenda.

On the phone, he didn’t sound

anything like a writer to me.

I don’t think he’s
on your deposition list,

but I do think it might be a good
idea to question him.

His name is Malcolm Brooker.

Tell me how to deal with the world of men,

and who knows,

maybe we’ll solve Martin Kramer’s murder.

Malcolm Brooker.

Malcolm Brooker couldn’t write
a ruddy magazine piece

if his life depended on it.

He’s a grifter, a petty crook,

masquerading as a Private Investigator.

Yes, Inspector?

Ma’am, we have the print
report from forensics.

Go on.

Her prints are
on the murder weapon.

Oh, thank you, Martindale.

That will be all, Inspector.

We must excuse Inspector Martindale.

I was only made DCI on Friday.

He lost the job to you.

Yes, and finds it difficult
to adjust to a woman

running a Scotland Yard Murder Squad.

Well, we can’t help that, can we?

Ma’am, Liverpool says
they’re expecting you up there

first thing in the morning.

Pardon, but they said no excuse.

Oh, damn. Get Martindale back.

He’s interviewing the people
from the theater, ma’am.

- Get him, Constable.
- Yes, ma’am.

First week on the job,

first homicide, and the Divisional
Superintendent

calls a ruddy stupid brainstorming session

- for chief inspectors.
- I’m so sorry.

Leaving Martindale in charge.

Oh, he’s a good enough policeman,

but he’s too impulsive.

Forensics say that the murder
weapon was wiped almost clean,

- we’re looking for what it was done with.
- Almost clean.

Except for your prints, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, I don’t really
believe you killed the man,

but you will be staying
in London, won’t you?

I don’t quite see
how I can leave right now.

Good luck with the job, Inspector.

Excuse me.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.

We went through Martin Kramer’s checkbook.

Brooker was his boy.

You were lucky to
catch me in, Mrs. Fletcher.

I was about to depart for parts unknown,

seeing that word was out that the police

have some idea I was connected
to Martin Kramer’s murder.

On the phone, you implied that
you had some important information.

Yes. Well, they’ll listen to you.

Perhaps that’ll get them off my back.

The thing is, I know who murdered Martin.

What on earth are you talking about?

Well, as you can understand,

Kramer didn’t like us being seen together.

But he owed me money,

so last night, I followed him here,

from the restaurant that all
the theater people go to, Binky’s.

He came in through the stage door.

I waited a few moments,
and followed him inside.

He went down into the basement.

I was about to call out to him

when suddenly, this blonde-haired
woman came up behind him,

and...

well... you know the rest.

I don’t have the best relationship
with the London Police,

so I ran.

- Blonde-haired woman? Surely you...
- No, I didn’t.

It was dark, I couldn’t see too clearly.

Except for the white
raincoat she was wearing.

Well, I’d seen enough of the rehearsals

to know who that belonged to.

It’s the one she wears in the play.

Glenda?

Oh, Lord, I’m off.

Mr. Brooker, wait.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Inspector, what is going on?

You do not have to say anything
unless you wish to do so.

But what you say may be given as evidence.

Fine kettle of fish, eh?

You’ll be out by morning, Glen.

Oh, yes.

- Call Edward for me, will you?
- Oh, of course.

That’ll be all. Move along.

The police caught Brooker earlier tonight

boarding a train for Southampton.

He gave me the same
story he gave you, Jessica.

But he admitted that the light
was poor in the theater basement.

He didn’t say that he saw Glenda,

only that it might have been Glenda.

Brooker’s fear of police retaliation

may have prompted more
embellishment than truth.

According to the charges,
they’re quite aware now

that is was Martin who hired Brooker

to find out about you and Brett.

To prevent that would
presume a motive on your part.

I’m sorry, darling.

But the entire Glenhaven thing
is bound to come out now.

Glenda, you and Mae

left the restaurant together.
You shared a cab.

That’s what’s sticky, Jess. We didn’t.

Mae changed her mind,
and I did go back to the theater.

I left the new sides in my dressing room.

I wanted to be ready
for the rehearsal this morning.

And what were you wearing?

Why, for goodness sake? My old raincoat.

You’ve seen it.
What difference does it make?

Time’s up, I’m afraid.

You’re going to be all right, Glen.

Call Brett for me, will you?
I’m terribly worried.

There’s been no answer
from the phone at the house

all last night or this morning.

I can’t imagine where he’s got to.

I will, Glenda. Don’t worry.

All right.

Inspector, there are several details

that may be critical to this case.
In the basement--

Nothing that can’t
wait till morning, I’m sure.

When is Chief Inspector Jarvis returning?

It’ll be very late.

All right, that’s all for today, people.

Get a good night’s rest.

My God, how do we have a rehearsal

with the leading lady in jail?

- We try, Peter.
- Mmm.

Call’s 10:00 sharp, people. Lights!

Mrs. Fletcher, have you seen Glenda?

Yes. Her spirits are high,

and she sends her love to all of you.

Sally.

Forgive my curiosity,

but the white raincoat,

is that not a plot
requirement of the scene

that you were just rehearsing?

Yes, it was, but, um...

we couldn’t find it anywhere.

Poor Oliver’s losing his mind.

Right.

I think I may know where it is.

Will you help me to test my theory?

Maybe another time.

I’m sorry, dear,

but there can be no other time.

Finding that coat
can possibly clear Glenda.

Very well.

If you’re thinking it’s in there,

Oliver’s been into it a dozen times.

And besides, I don’t know the combination.

I didn’t think that you did.

I spoke to the wardrobe mistress,

and as far as I know,
only two other people

aside from her did know it.

This gas furnace here, Sally,

I know that Martin never
allowed it to be turned on,

but yesterday, when I was down here

with Inspector Jarvis, I detected an odor

of something burned or scorched,
that wouldn’t be found

in a cold, out-of-use furnace.

It didn’t mean anything to me then,

until I remembered
the missing white raincoat

and a blonde wig I noticed
was missing from

the wig cabinet.

It was a wig with very much the same style

and coloring as Glenda’s hair.

Mrs. Fletcher, I can’t imagine

why you’ve dragged me
down here to tell me this.

Well, then, the two
thoughts came together.

It wasn’t gas I smelled,

but the odor of singed hair,

and a synthetic fabric...

from the missing raincoat.

Oh, my God.

Then it was Franklin.

No, Sally.

But someone who had to know
the theater more intimately.

Someone in a hurry
to disguise their appearance,

who grabbed a wig and a raincoat

which, through happenstance,

looked very much like Glenda’s coat,

and I’m quite sure that that person

has as much affection
for you as Franklin does.

Oliver?

I’m thankful to you, Mrs. Fletcher.

I couldn’t have stood it much longer.

Oliver, for God’s sake.

Please, love,

getting upset won’t change anything.

I did it for you.

Franklin need never know,
and I guarantee, he’ll stay in the cast.

God! You’re repulsive!

Last night, I was in the wings

wrapping things up after rehearsal,

when I heard martin make his offer to you.

He keeps Franklin in the show
if you go to bed with him.

After you’d run off,

I saw that cruel, ugly look on his face,

and I knew that even if
he hurt the production,

he would take his revenge
on you by firing Franklin.

I felt so powerless.

At the same time, I was
relieved you turned him down.

I ended up at Binky’s talking to Peter

when you and Franklin left.

You went to your dressing room, remember?

And I followed you.

You had a terrible argument,
but you told him nothing.

I admire you for that, Sally.

And after he left, I heard you
call that beast, Martin.

Trading yourself for Franklin’s sake.

You didn’t want to go to his place,

and I don’t blame you.

So you told him you’d meet him
where no one would see.

But you came to me
with a message from Martin.

Unless I’m mistaken,

saying that Martin couldn’t make it.

Oh, yes.

But I made it, all right.

And I have no regrets, either.

I hadn’t meant to implicate
Miss Highsmith, honestly.

It was for you, Sally.

You’re going to be a big star someday,

like Judy or Marilyn.

You’ve got the talent,
the looks, the je ne sais quoi.

You’ll go all the way.

Got your call on my machine at home.

Ruddy brainstorming
session went into overtime.

Was your hunch right?

Yes. I’m sorry, but...

you had to move before
the evidence was destroyed,

and I thank you for that.

It’ll be a blot on Martindale’s notebook.

He should’ve been ahead of you.

Inspector, this is Oliver Hopkins.

I think that he has several things

he’d like to get off his chest.

Lawson phoned his regrets.

The dear man’s put himself on a regimen,

and an occasion like this is
just another incentive to drink--

Everybody!

I’ve just come from the Box Office.

Advanced sales exceed all expectations.

That’s wonderful.

They’re lined up to see you, darling.

As for your problem, Brett,

I’m afraid you can’t abdicate,

so you’ll always be
the 17th Earl of Glenhaven,

but you can make a gift of the assets

to the other heirs, if that’s your wish.

That’s okay with me.

Who wants 17,000 acres of Devon?

I’ve got more than
I can handle right here.

Brett, you had a particular project

that you asked me about. Do you remember?

Yeah, I sure do, and I took
your advice to heart.

The night mom wondered where I got to?

I went down to that little shop
on German Street I told you about.

It was late, so I spent
the night at a friend’s house

in London, but, uh, by the next morning,

the shop had come up with this.

Brett, it’s lovely.

For you. Happy birthday, mom.

And thank you.

Thank you, Brett.

My son.

Edward, Jessica.

My dear, dear friends.

I owe you all so much.

Well, hell,

life can’t be a whole lot
better than this.