All language subtitles for MrSWr1015

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

You're the only writer who hits
a home run every time at bat.

- Safe! Are you blind?
- He's out!

You're fired!

Haven't you noticed anything strange

- about uncle Edward?
- That sounds ominous.

As a shrink, I'm rarely surprised
at anything people do.

Your book is perfect.
I wouldn't change a comma.

This time, you failed.
I'm suspending publication indefinitely

so you can try again
with a page-one rewrite.

Do you know anything
about manic-depressives?

It was lousy for Graham
to fire you in public.

And I don't even like you that much.

Did it cloud your judgment?

There's someone in the house.

9-1-1.

I'm so lonely without you, Ed.

I miss you so very much.

Please come to me, Edward.

We can spend eternity together.

Beth?

Come to me. Please come to me.

Oh!

You have reached Dr. Santana's office.

Dr. Santana
is not in the office at this time.

Our regular business hours
are 9:00 to 5:00 weekdays

and 9:00 to 12:00...

Mr. Graham asked me
to apologize for being late.

He just called on his car phone.

He was five minutes away.

I hope he wasn't up all night

working on the notes for my manuscript.

Oh, no, he made most of his notes
in the office

before he left yesterday.

Most of his notes?
That sounds ominous.

- Please have a seat.
- Thank you.

Can I get you a cup of coffee?

No, no, thank you.

- Good morning, Jessica.
- Good morning, Edward.

That's my niece Lori,
daughter of my half-brother Charles.

- She's lovely.
- And a dear.

I'd lost track of Charles

until someone from the family called me

to tell me he died
of some lingering disease in Oregon.

I didn't know he had a daughter

until she wrote me
a lovely letter after Beth died.

She's very bright.
I'm grooming her to become an editor.

She's here?

I talked her into moving
to Manhattan three months ago,

got her a job
as Steve Di Napoli's assistant.

I'll introduce you.
But first, we have work to do.

Well, I think I've addressed

all of the changes that we've discussed.

Jessica, I love the changes.

Well, I hope you'll be as charitable

with the rest of your notes.

What notes? I don't have any.

Your book is perfect.

I wouldn't change a comma.

It'll be a runaway bestseller,

make you the darling of every critic.

- Here, catch!
- Oh!

I should sign you up
for our softball team.

Come in, Donna.

It's almost time
for your next appointment, Mr. Graham.

Oh, right. Where does the time go?

Well, I hate to edit and run, Jessica.

Well, listen,
if you have any second thoughts at all...

Impossible.
My decisions are etched in granite.

In that case,
that'll give me plenty of time

to drop by the library
before my 2:00 with Carrie Benton.

She helped me
with some last-minute research.

You'll find her in a new office
right over there.

- Oh, since when?
- Since I asked Ted Hartley

to promote her to children's books editor.

Oh, what a nice break for Carrie.

Mm-hmm.

Mm-hmm.

Well, I think
you're an incredible writer, Arnold.

It's just the plot of your second book

about the rollerskating pig

was exactly the same as the first.

You're underestimating your audience.

It's just that three-year-olds

are a lot more discerning
than they used to be.

All right, just think about it. OK?

Bye.

You are a terrible person.

Mmm.

I will take... chocolate.

Good choice.

A pig on roller skates, huh?

Hey, come on. That's very cute.

Mmm. That's terrific.

Tell me something.

You used to bring me donuts
almost every day.

- Why'd you stop?
- You started seeing Ed Graham.

I decided
my love offerings weren't working.

Is that what this is?

Eat. It's a fantasy, not a commitment.

Hate fantasies, love commitments.

Hello, Steve.

Ed... I know what this looks like.

But I swear I'm not trying
to fatten up your girlfriend.

Ha ha! Ohh...

Edward is not amused...
even though he should be.

I've seen funnier losers
on Star Search.

Steve brought me donuts for a party

to celebrate my promotion.

What a keen idea!

My invitation
must've gotten lost in the mail.

Or is this an intimate party?

OK. I think I'll go to the park

and hit some fungoes before the game.

- So long, sports fans.
- Steve!

I cannot believe that you were so rude
to one of my friends.

I've evidently misjudged
the level of your taste.

Why are you behaving like this?

Are you criticizing my behavior?

I'd better get right over to my doctor

and tell him about it.

Good-bye, dear heart.

Last night was bad,

worse than before.

Edward, speak up.
I can barely hear you.

When I woke up,

there was a moment
where I couldn't remember where I was

or how I got there.
My own bed, for god's sake!

What else do you remember?

Nothing. It's all gone.

You said it was a bad night.
What made it bad?

I told you, I don't remember!

You're censoring your thoughts, Edward.

Was it something you saw?

It was the same horrible nightmare.

I was alone...

surrounded by misty shadows at...

At the edge of an abyss
as black as hell.

I could see Beth.

Her voice was barely a whisper.

Go ahead.

She was pleading...

"come to me.

Come to me."

I wanted to.

I wanted to be with Beth again,

but I knew if I did,
I would just cross over into hell.

That fear is what always wakes me up.

What are you looking at?

A man who's in need of help.

Carrie, this is the most thorough research
that I have ever read.

I'm going to have to correct my manuscript

before somebody else discovers
that some of my facts are fiction.

Jessica, you knew Edward's wife,
didn't you?

Oh, yes, yes.

I introduced her to Edward

when he worked for my former publisher.

They had a wonderful marriage.

I gather
that isn't just an idle question.

Um, Edward and I
have been seeing each other.

But he's never
taken me to his house in Connecticut.

He's always got some excuse.

What is it about that house?

Well, when Beth became ill,

Edward took a leave of absence,

and he remained
with her day and night in that house,

and she died in his arms.

I know he was devastated.

But he came right back to work

and tried to overcome his grief

by working too hard to think about it.

I urged him to consult a therapist.

He took your advice.

I just don't know
how much good it's doing.

Carrie?

I beg your pardon.

I'm looking for Graham.

His secretary seems to be
on an extended coffee break.

Jessica, you know
Leonard ambler, the company controller?

Oh, yes, of course. Ted introduced us

when I signed my contract.

He told her I was the one to yell at
if her checks were late.

Carrie, do you have any idea
where Graham might be?

He had a doctor's appointment.

He usually confines
his appointments to late afternoon.

I know, but he wanted to go early today

because of the softball game.

My mistake.
I keep thinking this is a business office.

That reminds me...
I've got to get changed for the game.

Oh, I didn't realize
you were on the team.

Oh, well,
how do you think I got my promotion?

I am the best hitter in the league,

and Edward's the team coach.

Why don't you come down to Central Park
and watch us play?

If we win today,
we'll be in the playoffs

for the league championship.

It's tempting.

But I've really got too much to do.

Jessica, you ready for the ballgame?

Sorry, not today.

Oh, come on! You could keep Lori company.

Lori Graham! I'm Jessica Fletcher.

I saw your photograph
in your uncle's office.

My uncle said you were a good friend.

He couldn't have found you
at a better time.

Mrs. Fletcher, you would know...

Haven't you noticed anything strange

about uncle Edward lately?

Hey, shortstop! Let's move it!

Meet me down in front.
I'll get us a cab.

Strange? In what way?

I don't know.
Sort of like he's up and down

almost in the same breath.

You know, on second thought,

I think I will go with you to the game.

Good! I'll buy the hot dogs.

Play ball.

Edward told you that he heard voices?

Just one. Aunt Beth's.

Oh!

Come on, Steve.

Come on, come on, come on.

Strike!

Hit one for me, Steve!

Give us a break, kid.
Give us a break.

Wow!

- Strike!
- That was way high!

Come on! Keep your eye on the ball!

Come on!

Go! Go!

He's out!

What do you mean, he's out?

He's out! Tagged at the bag

- After he hit the plate!
- He's still out!

Hold it! Hold it!

I just can't believe you didn't see that!

Hold it! Hold it!

You're out of here!

Eddie, Eddie! He's right!

The catcher tagged me
before I touched home plate.

What are you, a traitor? Get out of here!

Out of the game, and out of the company!

You're fired!

I have real problems
with your book, Jessica.

Oh, dear. Does that mean
I won't be the critics' darling?

I'm serious.

Yes. Yes, I think you are.

I don't understand.
I thought you liked it.

That was before I reread it.

Your book is a major disappointment.

It's badly flawed.

Edward, I would be very grateful

if you would point out the flaws.

Here's the short list.

Your characters lack dimension,

your detective is a major wimp

who solves the case
100 pages after your dumbest readers,

and your spine-tingling suspense
put me to sleep.

It's very badly done.

Well, if it is, we did it badly together.

I wrote, and you edited.

I followed your comments
almost verbatim

and, for the most part,
I agreed with them.

Edward, what is going on here?

Yesterday, you were full of praise

and enthusiasm for the book,

and now you're completely negative.

Let's be honest. This time, you failed.

I'm suspending publication indefinitely

so you can try again
with a page-one rewrite.

Now, would you like to hear all my notes?

You can't walk out on me, Jessica!

Edward, I have to think this through.

You've already lost one editor.

It would be a shame
to lose an author... and a friend.

I'm telling you Ed Graham is cracking up.

OK, so he overreacted.

- Overreacted?
- And now you're overreacting.

I'm here to clean out my desk
and say good-bye.

Doesn't that tell you something?

You could've kept your mouth shut.

Ohh, you're never gonna believe this,

but I predicted you'd say that.

- I wrote it down and it's in my pocket.
- Stop it.

Maybe I should've let him
beat up the umpire, too.

Was that nutty or what?

Absolutely insane...
and I never said that.

Leonard.

I heard a rumor you were in the building.

You want me to sign my dismissal papers

in triplicate for your files?

Your papers haven't come through yet.

Strictly off the record,
I think it was lousy

for Graham to fire you in public.

And I don't even like you that much.

Does it mean anything
to anyone that Steve has a contract?

No. Mean anything to you, Leonard?

Not if Graham doesn't want you around.

He has more clout
with Ted Hartley than anyone I know.

More coffee, Ted?

Oh, please.

Your cookies are absolutely sensational.

You really shouldn't have gone
to all this trouble.

Well, actually, I cheated.

I found this absolutely fabulous bakery
on Columbus Avenue.

Well, you know, Jess,
you gave me the scare of my life.

I heard you walked out
of that meeting with Edward Graham.

That's why I invited myself over here.

Well, I thought as much.

To put it bluntly,

right now,
you're the only writer that we publish

who hits a triple
or a home run every time at bat.

And I'd just hate like hell

for you to go away mad.

Listen, Ted, Edward and I

have been through a lot together.

He helped make bestsellers
out of three of my books,

we made the move
to your publishing house at the same time.

I couldn't ask for a better editor.

Then why did you walk out on him

and leave him with egg on his face?

Well, he upset me terribly.

Yesterday he said
that my book was perfect.

Today he told me how much he hated it.

I read it, and I thought it was terrific.

So what's gotten into Edward?

Do you know anything
about manic-depressives?

You're not suggesting that Edward...

It's just that recently he's developed

radical mood swings.

One minute, all is right with the world

and the possibilities are endless.

The next minute, everything is wrong

and the outlook is dismal.

Well, he's been seeing some shrink
I never heard of.

There you go.

Just what the doctor ordered.

I can't drink
any more of this filthy stuff.

You know
it's an essential part of your treatment.

You haven't been listening.

The treatment's not working.

- I feel worse than ever!
- Take it.

Looks like the bottom
of a boat I once owned.

Then close your eyes.
You know it makes you feel better.

I'm losing control, Jerry.

I can't seem to organize my thoughts.

One moment, something
seems terribly important to me.

The next moment,
I can remember what it was.

- That will pass.
- So will we all.

That's not much of a comfort, either.

I'm wasting time.

I gotta get back to the office and work.

Cheers.

Edward... slow down. You work too hard.

That too shall pass.

Edward.

Edward!

Come to me.

We can spend eternity together.

Oh, Mr. Graham,
I didn't know you were still here.

There's nobody up there.

Mr. Hartley and everybody else...
They all went home.

Did you hear me, Sir?
The upstairs offices are closed.

Aaaaah!

I'm sorry to get you all here so early.

I know you were all
Mr. Graham's friends,

and I respect that.

But it's my job
to investigate his suicide.

To do that properly,
I need to know his frame of mind.

Mrs. Fletcher, not the best of ways

to renew an acquaintance, is it?

No, Lieutenant.

As I understand it, Mr. Graham behaved

in some sort of screwball fashion
toward you.

He seemed driven by some inner demon.

That's the only way I can describe it.

Not to be personal or anything,

but could that have clouded
your judgment about him?

Are you sure you just weren't smarting

because he was knocking your work?

Yes, Lieutenant. I'm positive.

Did any of you talk to him last night?

He, um...

He came to my office
just as I was leaving.

It was around 7:00.
He asked me to have dinner with him.

I said that I wanted
to go home and change first,

he said that he had
some things to do in his office

so he would meet me
at the restaurant at 9:00.

When I got there, Arturo,

the maître d',

said that Edward had called,

that he was just leaving his office.

He had arranged...

to have my favorite flowers
waiting on the table.

And he asked Arturo to open
a bottle of my favorite wine.

And he never showed up.

Arturo was embarrassed for me,
and I was furious.

I guess I didn't know.

I didn't know that Edward had...

Thank you, miss Benton.
I know this is tough on you.

Her favorite flowers, her favorite wine,

the maître d's special attention.

Lieutenant, in your investigations,

have you ever heard of a man
committing suicide

after planning such a romantic evening?

I can't say that I have.

But the night security guard
saw him go up on the roof alone.

And then he jumped.
I think that's all we need.

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.

Mrs. Fletcher, please stay.

He left a note.

It was addressed to you.

I'm sorry.

I really can't imagine
what drove him to it.

He was a jumper. That's what jumpers do.

Do they also initial farewell notes?

This is simply a memo

from an editor to a writer.

Yeah. Sure.

You want to tell me
what he was right about?

Look, Mrs. Fletcher,

what we pulled off a few years ago,

that's in the past...
Nailing Lieutenant Boyle.

But you stay out of this one, OK?

Lieutenant, Edward
was a very dear friend of mine.

I'll do my very best.

Maybe this will come as a surprise,
Mrs. Fletcher,

but remember the dinner
in Connecticut where we met years ago?

Ha ha! I certainly do, Mr. Filbert.

Over one of Beth Graham's fabulous meals.

Somehow the talk suddenly turned to wills.

I was being lawyerly.
It's a compulsion, I'm afraid.

Edward and Beth were both newlyweds

who hadn't yet made out their wills.

You may recall I pointed out the need

of an alternate executor,
in case they both passed away.

Of course. And they chose me.

It seemed like a joke at the time.
So long ago.

But you said yes, and here we are.

The strange part is,

after all the reading-of-the-will scenes
I've written,

I'm still not quite clear
about an executor's duties.

It's simple enough.
We start with Edward's will.

Oh.

I see it's been updated with a codicil.

Containing the names
and addresses of all the heirs.

They all live in the city,

except for his late wife's sister
in Pittsburgh.

It's pretty routine, simple bequests.

Your job is to notify them by mail,

or however you like, and that's it.

The rest goes to charity.

And there's an insurance policy

his employers purchased for him.

The insurance company
will take care of that.

So... how do you want to handle it?

I suppose I'll just send
his sister-in-law a registered letter.

I can notify the others in person.

His suicide...

I was shocked. Had he been ill?

I'm not sure.

After my dad passed away,

I felt disconnected from the world,

until I found Uncle Edward.

He gave me a family again.

His death must've been a terrible shock.

It happened so fast.

It's like losing my dad all over again.

He went just as quickly
when he had his heart attack.

Thank you for telling me about his will.

I didn't expect to be mentioned at all.

He must've left you his stereo and CDs

because they had
some special meaning to you.

They do. He didn't like
the kind of music I like.

He was always trying
to develop my taste for modern jazz.

I'll think of him
whenever I listen to Thelonious Monk.

This is a beautiful piece of workmanship.

It's a tribute to a watchmaker's skill

and to Edward's impeccable taste.

I'm overwhelmed, Mrs. Fletcher.

Well, he wanted you to have it.

It's touching. It's very touching.

It's always hard to lose a patient.

Especially to death.

Did he mention to you that he believed

his late wife spoke to him at night?

Hmm. Mrs. Fletcher, given your writings,

I'm sure you know that I can't violate
the doctor/patient privilege.

Yes, of course. But if he was convinced

that his wife was speaking to him...

Well, it's not uncommon.

I consider it
a harmless form of fantasizing,

a way of wishing
his dead wife back into his marriage bed.

I don't consider it important
or revealing in any way

of any underlying problem,
if that's what you're driving at.

Heh.

Were you surprised
when Mr. Graham committed suicide?

Hmm. As a psychiatrist,

I'm rarely surprised
at anything people do.

Even your patients?

I understand that there is some thought

that it may not have been suicide.

Mrs. Fletcher,
are you trying to push my buttons?

Oh, not at all.
It's simply natural curiosity.

Now, here is something
that I certainly never expected to see

in a psychiatrist's office.

A blender? Ha ha!

What an incredible collection of herbs.

Do you make your own salad dressing?

Heh heh. No, it's not sage,
rosemary and thyme.

This is part of an ancient
and newly emerging medical tradition.

Would you like to try
my special blend?

Well... thanks.

But I better not today.

I really should be on my way.

Thank you again for delivering this...

token of Edward's faith in me.

I shall treasure it always.

Uh, there is just one thing.

Can you possibly tell me how Edward Graham

happened to become a patient of yours?

In a wink of a bat's eye.

With this magical device here.

Yes. It was a referral
by one of my patients

who worked
in the same publishing company...

Steven Di Napoli.

His entire collection?

Where in the world am I gonna put them?

Edward said you admired his books.

Oh, I did, all of them.

But you should see my bookshelves.

I don't have room for a postcard,
forget about 400 books.

Well, I suppose
the worst thing that could happen

would be that you could donate them

to the public library.

I guess I'll leave that option open.

Well... I wish Edward were here

to see the results of his faith in me.

Ladies and gentlemen, the first edition

of a soon-to-be-classic sequel
to the original...

Pig on Roller Skates.

Ha ha! Congratulations, Carrie.

Thank you very much.

Oh, Steve, I spoke to Dr. Santana,

and he told me
that you sent Edward to him.

Yes, it was just after his wife died.

Ed was trying to be stoical,

but he couldn't concentrate on his work.

He was close to falling apart,

I'd had some good luck with the guy.

I wanted to stop smoking,

but I couldn't break the habit.

A recovering nicotine addict

had turned me on to Santana.

His therapy
was so boring that I gave up smoking

so I didn't have
to go back to him anymore.

What was his treatment?

Oh, some really loathsome health drinks

and post-hypnotic suggestion.

Ah. Carrie,
if you can get away from the office,

I'd love to ride with you
up to Connecticut

and take a look at your house.

I don't have a house in Connecticut.

You do now.

I'll explain on the way.

Oh, Jessica, it's beautiful.

I'm finally here, but without Edward.

I'm sure he wanted to be here with you.

What are we looking for?

Well, I'm not sure.

Anything that might shed some light
on what happened.

Ah. Dayton, Ohio postmark.

This must be Lori's letter...

The one she wrote him after Beth died.

Well, Edward was right.

It is a very sweet letter.

Uh-oh.

Oh, great.

Wait. I think I saw a flashlight in here.

Yep.

Just come with me for a moment, Carrie.

I want to check something in the kitchen.

Ah. I thought so.

What's all that?

This is Dr. Santana's prescription.

I'd like to take some samples,
if I can find a plastic bag.

Would you hold that?

Jessica, you think that the doctor
may have drugged him?

Well, I think
it's certainly worth considering,

even if the police don't.

I'm going to put a little
in these plastic bags.

My god. Why would...

There's someone in the house.

9-1-1.

Jessica, it's dead.

Up on the roof.

He's coming.

I think they're gone.

He's hiding, waiting for us.

I'd love to come back
and see the rest of the house,

preferably on a very sunny aft...

- Where are you going?
- Upstairs.

I want to find out what was so interesting

to that visitor.

Beth and Edward's room.

It's wonderful.
I expected to find it trashed.

What's that?

Smells like wood putty.

It's used for filling holes.

It's still soft and fresh.

And then there was light.
Thank goodness.

Is that a bullet hole?

Well, it looks as if someone
had drilled a hole here

and then tried to fill it with wood putty.

Why would someone drill a hole

and then plug it up right away?

Maybe it wasn't right away.

Maybe it was drilled before,

and it had already served its purpose.

I give up. What purpose?

Electrical wire.

Possibly leading
to some sort of a speaker?

It'd have to be pretty tiny

to fit in that hole.

You know, a hearing aid
is a tiny amplifier and a speaker,

and it fits in the ear.

But why?

His wife's voice.

- Hello?
- Mrs. Fletcher?

Yes, Lieutenant Acosta.

I've been trying
to get back to you so long,

I thought maybe you left
the wrong number on my machine.

Did you find anything up there?

I certainly did... including some samples

of the ingredients
in Dr. Santana's health drink.

If your lab analysis proves
they contain what I think they do,

you have the doctor dead to rights.

That's an interesting choice of words.

A cleaning lady let herself
into his apartment

at around 5:00 this afternoon

and found him bludgeoned to death.

Excuse me. I wonder if you can tell me

where I might find a friend of mine.

I believe
he has an office in this building.

His name is Jerry Santana.

High-flyin' Jer?
I haven't seen him in today.

If you want to leave a message,
I'll see he gets it.

Uh, no, thank you,
but I don't think that will do.

Forgive me.

Mel, isn't it?

Heh. Look, I don't pretend to be

an interior decorator
or anything like that, but, um...

I think that that pale green

looks like a hospital, don't you?

My choice would be
to use the cerulean blue

with a touch of white
to get the green out of it,

and that will really brighten
everything up.

Hey, I bet you're right!

I'd have everybody
in the building second-guessing me.

Oh, isn't that just like Jer?

How's that?

I loaned him my ten-cup coffee maker.

Tonight's poker night,
and I've got the girls coming over.

Uh, look, Mel, you don't suppose...

down the hall, right at the end.

His name's on the door.

Just be sure to lock it as you leave.

You saved my life, Mel. Thanks.

Yes.
Is Lieutenant Nick Acosta there, please?

Right here, Mrs. Fletcher.

Never mind. Here he is.

Couldn't stay away, huh?

Nick, I am absolutely convinced

that Edward did not commit suicide.

Hey, hey, call off the artillery.

It just so happens
I think you're right.

Lab reports came through
on those herbs you dropped by.

They would've been giving him
the worst anxiety attacks...

Highs and lows.

Would've made him
vulnerable to suggestion.

And that gizmo on his bed
you told me about.

Beth's voice telling him to die.

This morning, I spoke to a friend
who knows about such things,

and he says
there was probably a pressure switch

sensitive to Edward's body movements.

So the voice
was only activated when he slept.

What that boils down to is...

the Doc gave Graham
a psychological push off that roof.

Or just maybe... somebody pushed him.

And now Santana.

Santana's watch and wallet were missing.

And according to the cleaning lady,

there were some priceless antiques
missing as well.

Calculated murder,

made to look like a robbery in progress.

Possible.

At this point,
I don't know if Graham's death

and Santana's murder connect or not.

But at least they both went quick.

If I gotta go,
a slow death is not for me.

A slow death?

- Or was it?
- Come again?

Oh, I'm sorry, Lieutenant.

You know, I think
we have what we need

to solve both deaths
and find the person responsible.

Here.

Come on.

Hello? Central Park.

Ted, I'm glad I reached you.

Oh, Jessica, hey.
You're missing a wonderful day.

By the way,
your new book will be on our fall list.

And I'm sitting here on a park bench,

letting the pigeons
decide the best cover for it.

I hope that's all they're doing. Ha ha!

Why don't you come on over.

I'll save you a seat.

And better pick up some birdseed.

I wish I could.

Ted, the insurance policy

the company bought for Edward Graham

as an inducement for him to come aboard...

Would you happen to know

who was the designated beneficiary?

Not offhand,
but I can get back to you with that.

Good. And while you're at it,

perhaps you'll tell me
the dollar amount of the policy?

Who set up this meeting anyway?

My secretary said Hartley called.

I've got a writer waiting in my office.

Steve, maybe you know.
What's all this about?

Just another turn of the screw.

Literary allusion.

I've never asked you... Do you read?

Hello, everyone.
Hope we didn't keep you waiting.

This is Ron Bayless
from the Claims Division

of Grable Life.

Ron, what are you doing here?

Taking care of business.

I know most of you
expected to see Mr. Hartley,

but he had a scheduling conflict

and suggested we use Edward's office.

In a way, it's very fitting,

because this is about Edward Graham.

Must be his insurance policy.

Somebody is about to get very lucky.

It is my duty to discharge
the Grable Life obligation

by presenting this check for $5 million

to Edward Graham's sole beneficiary,
Miss Lori Graham.

5 million?

My God.

I don't believe it.

I... I... You're sure?

Positive.

Miss Graham, do you accept this check?

Yes, Sir, I do.

I think I just lost an assistant.

You have, Steve,
but not quite the way you think.

Lieutenant Acosta?

Miss Graham...
or whatever your name is...

I have a Jane Doe warrant
for your arrest for insurance fraud.

You have the right to remain silent.

What are you talking about?

He's talking about a clever plan

to take advantage
of Edward Graham's grief and vulnerability

after his wife's death,

a plan that almost worked.

You're crazy... All of you!

This is my money.

Uncle Edward left it to me.

I have every right to it.

That's not exactly true.

You said something to me in the park

that stuck in my mind.

His death must've been a terrible shock.

It happened so fast.

It was like losing my dad all over again.

He went just as quickly
when he had his heart attack.

It was only later that I remembered

what Edward
had told me about his half-brother.

I'd lost track of Charles

until someone from the family called me

and told me he died
from some lingering disease in Oregon.

I never said that.
You don't know what you're talking about!

Wrong, Lori. But there's a lot more to it,

and I'm sure that your partner

can fill in the details. Right, Leonard?

Me?

Mrs. Fletcher...

Let me tell you
how it came together for me, Leonard.

I was sitting at a computer
in Dr. Santana's office,

checking his patient list

to see if there was anybody else on it

who was also in Graham's life.

There was... an "L. Ambler". You, Leonard.

What is this?

So you saw my name on the computer.

That doesn't prove anything,

except that I was seeing a therapist.

Steve's name was there, too.

But only you had access
to Edward's insurance policy,

while Dr. Santana...
through cunning manipulation...

had access to his mind.

And together,
you conspired to kill Edward.

Whether he jumped or was pushed,

it was still murder.

And yesterday afternoon,
I suspect it was you

who killed Santana...

so you wouldn't have to
share the insurance money.

- This is outrageous!
- Shut up.

Let the lady finish, Ambler.

After Beth Graham died,

you submitted to the insurance company

the name of Edward's new beneficiary,
Lori Graham.

She's talking about this.

Graham gave me the name.
That's his signature.

Note the date... March 2.

Now, this is the letter

that is supposedly
from Lori Graham to her uncle Edward.

The postmark is quite clear... March 5.

In other words, Edward Graham
submitted the name of his niece

three days before he ever heard of her.

How do you explain that, Leonard?

We checked the signature, Leonard.

It was forged.

Leonard Ambler, you're under arrest

for conspiring to commit murder.

With Dr. Santana, not with me.

I didn't have anything to do with it.

I was an out-of-work actress.

Leonard met me while I was waiting tables.

He asked me if I wanted to play a part

- that would make me rich.
- Be quiet!

The whole thing was his idea.

He had the doctor brainwash Graham

and then give him a code
he'd hear on the phone

and do whatever he was told...

like jump off the roof.

Getting a guy
to commit suicide was one thing,

but if he couldn't do it,

Leonard was ready for that, too.

Aaaaaah!

Leonard did it! He killed Graham,

and then he killed Dr. Santana

so he wouldn't have to split the money!

They used me!
I didn't know what I was doing!

I doubt that. Being an actress,

it was probably your voice on the tape

urging Graham to kill himself.

Exactly.

Yeah! Strike!

Come on, Steve!
Come on in, slide!

Slide, slide!

- Out!
- He was safe!

The guy is safe! He was safe!

He was out.