Original subtitles

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

They don't build them like this anymore.

I had to cover their paper or lose everything.

I owe it to the museum to fight you.

- Borrow from the Larkin plan now. - That's robbery.

I'm getting a familiar feeling, Jess,

like you know something I don't.

My lawyer told me to clam up.

I want you to date Mr. Hallowell, Shirin.

You can put out, don't put out, I really don't care.

Shirin's obvious charms

couldn't possibly hold the same interest for you that they do for me.

Just whose side are you on?

Am I sleeping with the enemy? Yes, I am.

Ohh!

Hello? Hallowell here.

- Yeah, it's Henry. - What do you have?

Okay, here it is.

Total current assets: $26,300,700.

80% CD's and other negotiables.

That much can be liquid tomorrow.

And someone's cooked the numbers, skimmed around five mil.

What are you saying? Who the hell was it?

Impossible to tell who,

but there are phony balances from the banks and brokerages.

- Are you sure? - No, I'm certain.

Someone's ripped off the Larkin pension fund.

We have to find out who it is.

I'll be in touch.

Aah!

Hello? Hello?

Who is this speaking, please?

Clint Hallowell. Who the hell is this?

So I can't help you much with Henry Wilson, Lieutenant.

But there is something.

Last night, someone sabotaged the computer.

What do you mean, "sabotaged"?

Everything's garbled.

Sounds like somebody installed a virus.

Maybe there's a connection. If anything occurs to you,

please call me.

- Thanks, Miss Poulos. - You're welcome.

I don't know what the hell you're so fired up about, Floyd.

Talk is talk.

- There's nothing in writing, is there? - No.

Then what brought on this sudden fit of conscience?

Is it something to do with the tragedy out there?

No, though God knows I will miss Henry Wilson keenly.

But Mrs. Fletcher's been a good friend over the years.

I'd find it very difficult to tell her I've changed my mind.

I thought you had bigger problems than Mrs. Fletcher's museum.

Your personal financial situation, for one.

Well, I guess the man knows what he's doing, Thorny.

You misjudged the situation.

Excuse me, gentlemen. Mr. Larkin,

I have a temporary office ready for Mr. Hallowell and Mr. Brewer

and their keys to the office and executive elevator.

I don't think we'll require them, Miss Gillis.

No, wait.

Clint, Mr. Brewer...

perhaps somehow I can get Jessica to see it,

help her understand the way it is.

All right, Meredith, take a good look around.

They don't build them like this anymore.

Look at those Italian marble walls.

Thank goodness the Museum of Cultural History

plans to preserve it in all its glory.

Not just because I'm a board member, Meredith,

but, I don't know, this place holds

some very, very personal memories for me, too.

Bill?

Jessica! Great to see you.

Bill, this is Meredith Peckham.

She's the attorney who's representing the museum.

- Hi. - Hi.

Come on, you won't see elevators like this anymore.

- Morning, Fritz. - Best of days to you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Best of days, I could use one of those.

Something wrong, Bill?

Henry Wilson, our chief accountant,

was found murdered this morning.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

On top of that, people from Amalgamated

have been crawling all over the building,

taking notes, really checking the joint out.

- What are they doing here? - Tell me.

There have been ugly rumors.

- Hello, Tina. - Hi, Mrs. Fletcher.

Well, Mr. Maguire, I've been waiting for you.

Appointment with the brass.

- Maybe lunch later? - Uh-huh.

- Hello, Gloria. - Hello, Mrs. Fletcher.

This is Meredith Peckham.

We're here for Mr. Larkin.

It'll be just a few minutes, Mrs. Fletcher.

Thank you.

Mrs. Fletcher? What brings you here?

Well, hello. This is Shirin Hourani, Meredith,

she's in my writing seminar.

Another semester and Shirin will be ready

to try the novel she told me about.

Oh, I'm afraid I won't be able to attend another semester, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh? I'm very sorry to hear that. Why?

As you can see, we're going out of business

and, um, well, after next week,

I don't know where my next paycheck will come from.

Well, don't give up the ship yet, Shirin.

No promises, but Meredith and I

are representing the Museum of Cultural History.

With jobs guaranteed for Larkin personnel who wish to stay.

Ohh! If that were possible...

Meredith and I hope to close the deal

with Floyd Larkin today.

Well, I have to go.

And I'll keep both my fingers crossed.

Oh, I see a friend.

Jessica, I might've known.

A mysterious murder and your first question is...

How are your beets doing in this weather?

Lieutenant Alan Terwilliger, this is Meredith Peckham.

- Hello. - Hello.

Al and I are both gardeners

and we compete, in a friendly sort of way.

Come on, you know it's all-out war.

Mr. Larkin's ready to see you now, Mrs. Fletcher.

Thank you, Gloria.

I'll see you later.

Just hold your temper, Maguire.

The fact is, you're eight years into a ten-year note

and haven't paid a dime of principal or interest.

That was my arrangement with Mr. Larkin, a no-interest loan.

He saw my problem the same way he has everyone's.

We're a family here!

$15,000 in Bridal and Trousseau?

It meant everything to Kathleen that Ruth, that's our daughter,

had a proper wedding and some furniture to get her started.

I see you own your own house free and clear. That's ready cash--

That house goes to the kids free and clear!

This has something to do with this Amalgamated thing, doesn't it?

We have every confidence that the acquisition

will go through before the weekend.

That's strictly confidential, of course.

But at that point, Mr. Maguire, I'm afraid this loan must be paid in full.

- That'll be all. - No, that won't be all.

I'm gonna talk to Mr. Larkin.

Oh, you do that.

But, Floyd, we had a fully worked-out understanding.

Our letter of agreement met all of your concerns.

We shook hands.

You are aware that the Museum of Cultural History

has invested heavily in permits and surveys,

to say nothing of the negative publicity this may incur.

Excuse me, Meredith.

Floyd, I want to hear from you.

These other gentlemen have done most of the talking.

I am truly sorry, Jessica,

but my present financial condition

leaves me no alternative.

Then you have made up your mind?

I think hard dollars made up his mind for him, Mrs. Fletcher.

Floyd gets five million for himself

on signing with Amalgamated.

I have made up my mind.

I see.

The museum guaranteed the Larkin employees job security.

If the remaining employees measure up,

they'll have the option to become part of the Hallowell family.

"If" they measure up?

An oral agreement is binding in New York.

There is such a thing as injunctive relief.

I'll be in touch.

Midnight Friday, Amalgamated takes over this building

on your signature, under the terms stipulated,

or we junk the deal.

You know some weirdo got me up after midnight on the phone last night

and wanted to know who I was.

It wasn't you, was it?

Ha ha! Hell no.

Have I lost a friend?

No, Floyd.

But I can't say I'm not disappointed.

I sent you an invitation

to the farewell party Friday night. Will you be there?

Under the circumstances, I don't think so.

I got into a mall deal, Jess.

My good-as-gold partners went belly-up.

I had to cover their paper or lose everything.

I owe it to the museum to fight you.

You do what you have to do, Jess.

I won't hold it against you.

Tomorrow? What time?

First thing. I'll squeeze you in, I promise.

First thing, right.

Jess, I'm sorry, but Ernie's on loan

and we have to inventory this whole place by tomorrow afternoon.

We both have more problems than we can handle.

How about a rain check on our lunch date?

That's quite okay, Bill. I've got lots to do myself.

Well, this is a very familiar face.

Clint Hallowell, right?

The deerstalker, into the dying game.

Assassin of all that's good and true.

Knock it off, Fishman. It's job anxiety.

Don't bet on anything you hear, Ernie.

I'll bet on you, Mrs. Fletcher.

If you have the time, go down to the basement,

the wedding bower. It's my swansong, and it won't be there much longer.

Ernie's into weddings

and family things like that.

He's saving to open a bridal boutique on Madison Avenue.

From your mouth to God's ear, right?

- Hello again, Mrs. Fletcher. - Shirin.

Well, gotta rush. Lunch.

I promised I'd introduce the lady to a sushi place down the block.

Damn it, Clint, just read the subpoena.

A week from Monday, the SEC gets into our books.

Why the hell isn't she answering?

The ceiling's coming down, and he's calling some shop girl.

Are you listening?

They say we've been milking stockholder assets.

Then fix it, Thorny. That's what you're paid for.

Not this time.

They're your personal interests, not our stockholders', not mine.

What the hell are you getting at?

Clint, a lot of guys are doing time now

for exactly what I've been stupid enough to go along with.

I'm not going to be one of them.

So you'll blow the whistle...

after all these years, huh, Thorny?

Listen, I tell you what we'll do, okay?

The Larkin pension plan's worth 26.3 million in change,

80% liquid.

How do you know that?

Don't worry about how I know it. Just listen.

Under the deal, our plan merges with theirs come November.

So we fudge it till then,

borrow from the Larkin plan now.

You have gone out of your mind.

That's robbery.

- Hello? - Mrs. Fletcher?

Ernie?

I'm very sorry for calling so late, but I just came from the police station.

I wasn't asleep. What in the world were you doing there?

They arrested Bill Maguire

for Henry Wilson's murder.

I promised him I'd call you.

Good heavens! Bill?

Poor guy doesn't know what's happening.

Listen, Ernie, you go home and get a good night's sleep

and I'll see what I can do first thing in the morning.

The guy was into Larkins for 15,000.

Two weeks ago, Wilson called him on it.

The heat was on.

Look, Al, you're holding Bill under the flimsiest motive.

Let me finish.

The murder weapon, the hatchet,

came from Maguire's department and had his fingerprints on it.

I should certainly hope so. He ran the department for 20 years.

The same night that Wilson was killed, somebody bollixed the store computer,

destroying any record of Maguire's debt.

And here--here's the real kicker.

Wilson died close to 10:45 p.m.

at 11:00, a ground floor security guard

saw Maguire leave the rear exit.

None of this makes any sense,

least of all Floyd Larkin

allowing an employee and a friend like Bill

to be blindsided on the loan.

Jess, I hear Larkin went back on his word to you

about the museum deal.

Couldn't Maguire have changed his stripes, too?

Floyd.

Tina, how are things going?

Things stink.

Your department manager is in the slammer for murder.

And look around you.

Everything that made this store is being trucked out

like its life's blood is seeping from the building.

You always put things in such, heh,

fanciful terms.

So I'm a romantic.

Didn't hurt in the Bahamas, did it?

Oh, don't worry.

I'm not building any castles on that week.

That week was good, Tina.

But we had to come back.

And suddenly there were just too many pressures.

Those pressures used to turn you on.

Floyd, there was a time that you would've told

these Amalgamated muckety-mucks

to take their pipe racks and sleazy ads and stick it.

- Tina, please-- - No, listen.

What made this old place so strong

was service, integrity.

It came from your dad and your granddad before him,

and from you, Floyd.

You're throwing Larkins to the wolves.

I have to know what's going on.

Maguire said that our pension plan

is gonna become part of theirs.

What does Bill know about things like that?

I don't know. But as a trustee, it's my business.

The pension plan is as good as gold.

Like your handshake with Maguire?

Like your museum deal with Mrs. Fletcher?

That's going up in dust with everything else.

It's going to be all right.

Believe me.

Please.

My lawyer told me to clam up.

But I'll tell you, if you promise...

I promise.

Yeah, I was in the store the night Wilson died.

In a meeting with Wilson, I smelled a rat.

You mean, as if he knew that changes were coming?

You got it.

So I tailed him for a few nights.

Last week, I caught him in this ritzy uptown joint

with Hallowell and Brewer, and I started to put things together.

The other night, I was waiting for Wilson to leave,

so I could tail him again.

But he never showed up.

Was anybody with you at closing

the night that Wilson was murdered?

Sure. Ernie Fishman.

I think I'd better talk to Ernie.

He'll be in my department,

or in that nutsy wedding Bower of his.

Just go left off the elevator.

I'd walk you down myself, but, uh...

Hang in, Bill. And I'll keep in touch.

Miss Hourani.

Oh. Hello, Mr. Hallowell.

Is that all you've got to say to the man

who sent you a dozen roses every day for a week?

"Hello, Mr. Hallowell"?

They were very beautiful.

Now, please excuse me.

I don't give up quite that easily, Miss Hourani.

Just listen for a moment. I don't bite.

One of my pleasures in life

is being with a beautiful woman such as yourself

and seeing that she's taken care of.

Her job situation in particular and...

in other more interesting ways.

I'm not interested, Mr. Hallowell.

Now, please.

Now, Shirin...

your mouth is saying one thing,

but your eyes are saying something else,

like, "what have I got to lose?"

You're wrong. Please let me go.

You asked for me, Mr. Brewer?

Yes, Miss Gillis.

What'd you have in mind, my love?

Ooh.

Ooh, it's cold in here all of a sudden.

Sorry, but we're both going to have to pay a little more attention

to our behavior patterns.

I'm sorry?

You have a fabulous opportunity here

with Amalgamated, with me.

More money, more position.

But there's something you have to remember about our esteemed chairman.

Go on.

Clint likes the women around him to be...

well, submissive.

He has an almost paranoid loathing

for aggressive, ambitious females.

I'm sorry, that's the only way I can put it.

You mean he prefers them obsequious and fawning,

- more like his male assistants. - Maude--

Come on, Thornton, take a good look at yourself.

You're picking up the guy's underwear, the guy's socks.

I'm sorry.

Thornton, I am sorry.

I've had a bad day. And it's not true.

You've made this company what it is.

He misuses you and you cover for him.

I'm sorry.

Do you forgive me?

Do you? Ha ha! Do you?

Forgiven.

I can't wait for tonight, darling.

Oh! Miss Hourani.

I almost forgot.

I'm sorry, Miss Gillis.

But I had to talk to someone.

Not at all. Come on, tell me what's troubling you.

It's about Mr. Hallowell.

He's causing me great trouble.

So I've heard.

Then, as another woman, you will understand my position.

There are those women

who might welcome that kind of affair.

But I am not one of them.

Is it a sexual harassment suit you're intending, then?

No! No, no.

I have to keep working, Miss Gillis.

That is all it is.

I have a mother to support.

She's ill and doesn't speak English.

Then you've still got your job.

When Amalgamated gets this white elephant up and running again,

you'll be cosmetics manager with a 30% raise.

Thank you.

Certain conditions, of course.

Conditions?

I want you to date Mr. Hallowell, Shirin.

You can put out, don't put out, I really don't care.

I want you to watch what he does, who he talks to, where he goes,

and then you'll report back to me. No games, mind you.

I don't--I don't think I can do that.

Oh, I...

All right, then I suppose

I'll have to put this to you another way.

The Larkin personnel files

will be carefully scrutinized by Amalgamated,

as they would be by any other employer.

Certain information could crop up.

Your own record, for instance.

When you were a teenager,

a temp salesperson in the lingerie department,

I was very surprised to read

there was a little matter of employee theft.

But I was young and stupid, Miss Gillis.

Mr. Larkin, he spoke to me.

He forgave me.

It never happened again.

Funny. I don't see that in the record.

I thought I knew Judge Gracie.

I figured the injunction

was a lead-pipe cinch,

but somebody with more muscle than I got to him.

We both know who that is.

I'm sorry about your friend, Bill Maguire.

But what's he got to do with Floyd

reneging on our deal?

Hallowell and Amalgamated have to do with it, Meredith.

Look, isn't there any kind of legal half-nelson

you could pull out of your sleeve?

I was talking to a broker friend of mine this morning.

He said there's a rumor that Amalgamated are in trouble

with the Securities and Exchange Commission.

Jess, I'm a one-woman office

against the best lawyers in the country.

Well, look who's here!

Mr. Hallowell.

You had your wings clipped.

That'll happen.

My guys had bigger guns, that's all.

Shirin?

He's the worst kind of pig,

but he sure can pick them.

Are you really willing to lose to someone like that?

No, damn it. I'll do what I can do.

No promises. But we will go down fighting.

Right.

Oh. Nice to see you, Mr. Hallowell.

Ernie?

Bill said you'd be putting it away.

You saw him, then? Great. You think--

I think he's innocent, Ernie.

I just hope I can help to prove it.

Me, too.

It's hard. I can't let somebody else mess with it.

The bride, isn't she about the prettiest you've ever seen?

She's lovely.

I call her Shirin.

Can you guess the groom?

Ernie Fishman, maybe? Ha ha!

Ernie, the guns in Bill's department

were going out tonight.

But what about the hatchets?

Non-lethal, Mrs. Fletcher.

They're listed under stuff like "fishing gear",

"camping", "archery", you know, hobbies.

Non-lethal. I like that.

Considering it was a hatchet that killed Henry Wilson.

Would it have been missed from the inventory last night?

No, no. Or else Mr. Maguire would've flagged it.

And sporting goods is closed every night because of the guns and ammunition.

So the hatchet that killed Mr. Wilson

may have been taken from the department after it was locked?

Yeah, like I told the police.

Who has the keys to the department?

Uh, just the department manager and the brass.

The brass?

Mr. Larkin, I guess,

Tina Poulos, Maude Gillis.

There must be a number of others.

Al? Oh, I'm glad I caught you in.

Listen, I just came from Larkins

and I have a bunch of interesting questions.

Jess, I was almost out the door.

Well, give me a moment, Al.

Have you asked yourself what Henry Wilson was doing

in Maude Gillis' office the night he was murdered?

Because it's my theory that he was acting as a mole for Amalgamated, in which case--

Whoa, whoa. Look, can this wait, Jess?

Upside, I've just wrangled an invitation to the Larkins farewell party,

So I can get to know some of the players better.

Downside, I gotta dash outta here and get into my tux.

Yeah, well, it's not my first choice, under the circumstances.

But on second thought,

maybe I'll see you there.

It'll give me one last crack at Floyd.

- Save me a dance, Al. - You got it.

Oh, my gosh.

So I'll concede the point, Jess.

Maybe Wilson was Hallowell's mole.

How about conceding that the killer

must've had a key to the Sporting Goods Department?

You're making my case against Maguire.

Well, keys can easily be duplicated.

If Bill killed Wilson, why did he allow himself

to be identified so blatantly by the security guard?

I'm getting a familiar feeling, Jess,

like you know something I don't.

Wait a minute.

I have to find a phone. Excuse me.

Take a last look around, Mrs. Fletcher.

They'll lower the ceilings,

put in their fluorescent lights,

paint over the murals,

and start peddling their low-end schlock.

Your lieutenant sends his regrets. He had to go back to the precinct.

Thank you, Ernie.

Stop fretting.

Something's held up Shirin, that's all.

Ah, Larkin.

Changing of the guard, huh?

Oh, Ernie.

- Ernie, I'm so sorry-- - Forget it.

I was wondering what kept you. Now I know.

- No, you-- - Fishman!

Shirin's told me all about you.

You're the window dresser.

What, are you angry about something?

I can't think why.

An artiste like yourself...

Shirin's obvious charms

couldn't possibly hold the same interest for you

that they do for me.

I hope you don't mean that

the way it sounds, Mr. Hallowell.

I'll be plainer.

I don't think you'd know what to do with Shirin

under the best of circumstances.

Ernie!

Uhh! Ohh!

Ernie.

Ernie, I'm so sorry.

This is all my fault.

Are you okay?

God, how could you?

But, Ernie--

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.

- He made me do it. - It's all right.

- I'd like a scotch, please? - Yes, Sir.

Oh, Thorny. Miss Gillis.

There's a call for you on the store phone.

You're riding a dead horse, Miss Gillis.

Or hasn't he told you?

Or--or maybe the horse doesn't know...

he's dead yet.

Giddyap, Thornton.

Hallowell.

I'll meet you down there.

Ernie, please.

Let me talk to you, Ernie...

Ohh.

Over this way, Mr. Hallowell.

Where the hell are you?

Right here, Mr. Hallowell.

Floyd, is there somewhere we can talk in private?

If this is about the museum, it's too late, Jess.

It may not be.

I know that Hallowell gave you till tonight for the deadline.

But I have a hunch that if you hang tough,

he'll go for a postponement.

It's too late, Jess,

for me, for the store, for the museum.

The deceased was discovered by the security staff

approximately 7:30 this a.m.

To forensics right away.

The murder weapon was part of the inventory

from sporting goods.

Three floors... three?

Three floors up.

Security says it had to have happened after 3 a.m.

Any idea what they were after?

No. This was all very personal,

very sensitive information about our employees.

God, it's gonna take weeks to straighten everything out.

Excuse me.

Jessica, I'm sorry to have to bring you in.

Don't even think about it, Al.

The whole thing is monstrous. You want my deposition here or--

No, give it to me.

We figure this, uh...

this got smashed at the time of death.

10:33 last night. Okay.

Might not mean much, but we found this

hanging out of a trash bin in the basement.

Now, that is the deerstalker's outfit.

There's something I can't quite put my finger on about that.

What's with deerstalker?

He's into the dying game.

Get that to forensics.

Has any of this changed your mind about Bill Maguire?

I'm sorry, no.

Phone company turned up something odd, though.

A call to Hallowell's cellular phone

about 10:45 that night

and then a second one at 11:03,

both from Maude Gillis' office.

The second after Wilson was dead.

Al, that must've been the call

Hallowell was complaining about the next morning.

He said he got a call at his hotel late at night

by someone who was asking who he was.

Dumb question. Man or woman?

All he said was "some weirdo."

That covers a whole lot of New York City.

I got a call from forensics just before we left.

They got a mess of fingerprints off the file break-in

and what's more important, on the crossbow.

At least you can't pin either one of those incidents

on Bill Maguire.

- He was in custody. - Right.

There's another killer out there somewhere

and I'm betting the perp who killed Hallowell

was also responsible for the break-in.

I'll have a make on those prints within the hour.

- Do me a favor, Al. Call me. - Sure, Jess.

Al? I can't believe my ears.

You actually believe that Ernie Fishman killed Hallowell?

Fishman's prints were all over the crossbow

and the bolt that killed Hallowell.

Good heavens, Al, he set up the display.

It's no secret he was obsessed about Larkins.

Well, so are a lot of other people,

but loving a place is no reason to murder someone.

Look, the kid had a knock-down drag-out with Hallowell.

He's got his mitts all over the employee file break-in, too.

As if that has anything to do with murder.

Look, Al, if I see him,

I'll let you know. Goodbye.

I have a question or two for you, Ernie.

But let's let Shirin finish her side first.

Well, there isn't much more, Mrs. Fletcher.

Mr. Hallowell didn't want to go to the dinner party.

So we were to have dinner at a restaurant

and wait there for Mr. Larkin.

"A few moments' business," he said,

and then he was going to take me to his hotel.

I refused to go.

I'm sure of that.

So Mr. Larkin showed up and...

They went to another table, arguing.

I couldn't hear everything they were saying,

but it was something about the pension plan

and a lot of money missing.

Then Mr. Larkin left.

All right. Your turn, Ernie.

Why did you trash the personnel files?

Shirin told me what Maude Gillis was holding over her,

so... I made sure the employee files

found their way to the city dump, that's all.

And what time was this?

After the party, somewhere around 3:00.

Window dressers have a night key. I dodged security.

Start where it matters, Ernie.

Hallowell was killed at 10:33.

I wanted to tell him I was sorry.

He took the express elevator to the basement and I followed him.

I found Hallowell dead.

After the fight, if anyone saw me,

I figured I'd better get out of there.

Hallowell's body, that's all you saw?

Think hard, Ernie.

In mannequin storage, it struck me odd

that somebody had stripped the deerstalker of its clothes.

I sure didn't.

The deerstalker's clothes?

Of course! Now I remember what was missing,

it was the mosquito mask.

Finish your sandwich, Ernie.

Then call Lieutenant Terwilliger.

- Turn myself in? - Trust me.

I think I know who murdered both Henry Wilson and Clint Hallowell.

Oh, Miss Gillis. Is Floyd around?

We're closing, Mrs. Fletcher.

I believe he left about half an hour ago.

Still at it, huh? For a successful novelist,

you certainly put a lot of heart

into your fight for a museum.

Oh, by the same token,

you seem to have a lot at stake

in the Amalgamated acquisition.

If you mean... am I sleeping with the enemy?

Yes, I am.

Then just whose side are you on, Miss Gillis?

I find that really a rather naive question, Mrs. Fletcher.

I was spawned on two generations

of feminist icons, don't forget.

Steinem, Friedan.

Damn it.

Somebody's using the express.

The old boys' network is rotting from within.

Or hadn't you noticed?

I'm ready to take my place over losers

like Floyd Larkin, Hallowell...

Thornton Brewer.

And to get from here to there,

whatever it takes?

Something like that.

Good night.

- Mrs. Fletcher. - Hi, Tina.

If you're looking for Floyd, he went off earlier.

No, actually, I was looking for someone

to take me down to the bridal bower.

The police cordon is off now

and there's something down there I need to take a second look at.

Still looking for a clue

to spring Bill Maguire?

How about it?

No. Sorry.

Those killings have given me nightmares enough

without poking around the scene of the crime.

I'm going home. Good night.

Good night.

No, the thing you call a "mosquito mask" never turned up.

Then we've got to find it, Al.

Jess, why am I getting the creepy feeling

you're putting your pretty head into something that might be dangerous?

Don't pretty-head me, Terwilliger.

You know me better than that.

Point made.

Your Ernie Fishman called.

But when I sent some guys to your place to pick him up,

he'd gone south.

Al, I'll be in the basement.

I walked back up

and heard you on the phone with the lieutenant.

You were up to something.

I was curious.

Did you find what you were looking for?

Yes, Tina, I did.

Actually, I expected to find something missing.

And here it is.

The spot where the mesh was torn away

and caught on the service pin.

One of the Larkin people.

So you figured it all out.

Oh, there are still a lot of gaps, Tina.

For one, I can only guess that Wilson and Hallowell's murders

both had something to do with the condition

of the Larkin pension plan.

And, as one of the trustees,

I would've known all about that.

Mm-hmm. Then, there were the two late-night phone calls

to Hallowell's hotel.

I suspect it was a call from someone

who wanted to know whom Wilson had phoned moments earlier,

telling Hallowell of a large sum

missing from the pension plan.

Knowing that,

the killer had to do away with Hallowell, too,

then destroyed the store computer records.

So you've got the picture, Mrs. Fletcher.

Please, call your lieutenant friend.

Let's get this over with.

You're a very brave woman, Tina.

But not quite clever enough

to assume Floyd's guilt.

Floyd? Have you lost your mind?

I think Jessica's way ahead of us both.

I was down here to retrieve this.

You beat me to it.

Tina, it's no use.

Hallowell threatened to make my embezzlement public

unless I allowed him to rape the Larkin plan

to cover his own excesses.

At the party, I paged him.

I told him to meet me in the bower, that I would sign our deal there.

I took the express elevator down,

giving myself plenty of time to prepare.

When I heard Ernie Fishman coming,

I had everything off except the mask.

I panicked. I didn't notice until later.

But then I realize that you, Jessica, must've seen it at the party,

the piece of mosquito netting

caught on my pin.

I told myself that I was temporarily borrowing

to cover those business losses I told you about.

With my signature

on Amalgamated's acquisition of the store,

I would have Hallowell's five million

to reimburse the pension fund.

Hallowell had bigger ideas.

Yes.

He would've destroyed the pension,

destroyed the financial security

of the very people who'd given this store its name.

Jessica, you okay?

Thanks for coming, Al.

Miss Poulos, Mr. Larkin...

Floyd will want to talk to you about the murders

of Henry Wilson and Clint Hallowell.

Mr. Larkin.

It's just beautiful, Shirin.

Congratulations to both of you.

It's hard to believe what's happened in the past three months.

We wanted to share our good fortune with you.

I open a bridal boutique

on Madison Avenue next month.

And, thanks to you,

I finish my museum docent training tomorrow.

Which reminds me.

Look what just came from the printers.

- Oh, that's nice. - Ohh.

It's beautiful.

Go on, Shirin.

There's one more reason for us to celebrate, Mrs. Fletcher.

Shirin, you mean you're--

Yes.

Isn't that wonderful? Oh, my goodness.

I'm sure somebody's already asked you, but what are you gonna call her?

Him. Him, Mrs. Fletcher.

And he'll be called--

Ibrahim, after my grandfather.

Abraham, after my grandfather.

Ibrahim-Abraham Fishman.

I wonder, is there really any difference

except for the spelling?