All language subtitles for MrSWr1102

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

"You are to stand and fight

or face court-martial as a traitor."

Another hero shot down in flames.

Signed, George Washington.

Fire!

Whoa!

Cut!

If you'd let me burn that letter,

none of this would be happening!

The jury is still out

on its authenticity.

Give it up, will you?

We're documentary filmmakers.

I can't work like this! That's a wrap!

Getting rid of him is not that easy.

I can think of a few ways.

There's a fire at the movie company's office.

Those are my terms, damn it.

I receive half the proceeds in your little venture...

or you pay the consequences.

And I'm sure you realize they'd be very severe.

I can't really see that you bloody well have much choice.

Get up there! Get up there!

Attention, Joshua Peabody Day participants,

all those involved in the battle reenactment,

please report to the large tent in costume.

Hi, Mrs. Fletcher!

Oh, good morning, Scott.

Ready for the big production?

- Yeah, they're all inside. - Great.

This is a documentary, Rick. Not a rock video.

Look at this room. It cries for available light.

Amelia, this is really getting old.

Shoot it my way,

or I'll find somebody that will, all right?

Oh, excuse me, Mr. Hawkes,

but wouldn't you rather have Joshua's saber

here in front, or perhaps--

Mrs. Peabody, Mrs. Peabody. I placed this here

because that's where I want it for the shot.

Okay? Thanks.

Louise. Louise...

your mother is driving me around the bend.

I can't believe it. It's past 10:00.

We haven't shot a frame.

Don't look at me. I've been ready since 7:00.

Robert, when are you gonna start behaving like a producer?

Come on, babe. The suits in Boston

think Hawkes is some kind of God.

And getting rid of him is not that easy.

Yeah? Well, I can think of a few ways.

No, no, no, you don't need any makeup.

You're fine. And, Edith, again,

suggesting Mrs. Fletcher do the narration was inspired.

I hope you haven't been too busy to learn your lines.

No problem.

I like the way you write, by the way, very much.

Oh, thank you.

I did notice a couple of details, though,

that weren't quite accurate.

So I took the liberty of correcting them,

with your approval, of course.

Okay. You're right here, Mrs. Fletcher.

Right. Oh, and thank you.

No matter how thoroughly you research these things,

you always seem to miss something.

Okay, let's see if we can make this happen.

- Amelia? - Still ready.

Okay, here we go. Roll sound.

- Quiet, please. Quiet. - Speed.

Camera rolling.

Scene four, take one. Mark.

And... Mrs. Fletcher.

Before the American Revolution,

Joshua Peabody was known as Maine's finest clockmaker.

But when he read of the music boxes

the Swiss were beginning to fashion,

he became fascinated with the design of such instruments.

Ultimately, he constructed some of the finest,

most innovative music boxes of the--

All right, cut! Cut.

I'm sorry, did I goof?

No, no, no, no, you were fine.

It just hit me that we've got to end this sequence

with you turning this thing on.

- Give us a dynamite transition sequence. - I see.

Uh, Mr. Hawkes, I don't think it's ever worked.

At least not in my lifetime.

Rick, forget the damn music box, okay?

We can't afford to lose the time.

Look, if there's anyone who can get this thing to work,

it'd be Tom Godfrey.

I'd be glad to take it to him during your lunch break.

Even better. We'll shoot you pretending to turn it on.

And then we'll dub the music in later. All right. Here we go.

I'll take a shot at this, sure.

Might help me get into character.

I'm playing a Major in our reenactment.

You know, this might be the start of a whole new career.

I just hope it gives some kind of boost to the tourist trade.

Muggy summer we've had here.

Everybody in town is hurting.

Now, this is not the one I wore last year.

That one fit me just fine.

Dr. Hazlitt, it is the same uniform, I swear.

Well, then you must have done something to the darn thing.

Nancy, didn't you mention to me

that some of those costumes got soaked

when the roof leaked last winter?

Well, you know, as a matter of fact...

and I think that this was one of them.

You think? Isn't it obvious?

Thank you, Jessica.

Jessica, come here.

I was gonna call you and let you know

that your chest of drawers finally arrived from Vermont.

You know, I'd almost given up.

Oh, it's lovely, Nancy!

But it seems to me

that these drawer pulls are mismatched.

Oh, no! I can't imagine how I missed that!

You know, I probably looked at this piece for 20 minutes.

I'm so sorry. I'm gonna call Burlington right now

and I'm gonna order the replacements.

No problem.

Jessica! I think I found the problem.

This was jamming the mechanism.

Oh. It's dated September 12, 1780.

"To Major Joshua Peabody.

"Your cowardly request to surrender Cabot Cove

"is categorically refused.

"You are to stand and fight

"or face court-martial as a traitor.

"I am investigating reports

that you have accepted payments from the enemy."

It's signed, George Washington.

Traitor? Joshua Peabody?

Another hero shot down in flames.

Well, the way the world's going,

it doesn't surprise me.

But everybody knows

that Joshua Peabody was killed

by the redcoats' final volley

just before the British turned and ran.

He won the battle of Cabot Cove.

Can't you see? It's an obvious hoax.

Jessica, we should destroy that letter.

Edie, if the letter is a hoax, it's evidence.

And if it's genuine--

Jessica's right, mom.

My God! You're as bad

as those people you work for.

Ready to throw away something precious

just for its exploitation value.

Jess, we'd best get started.

Blakely said he'd see us at 1:00, sharp.

Seth, talk some sense into Jessica.

And let me burn that letter.

Edie, you know I can't be party to something like that.

The only reasonable course

is to let Dr. Blakely examine it.

The university lab has all the equipment,

and we'll find out once and for all

whether or not it's real.

And if it is, we'll just have to accept the fact

that the people around here have been deluding themselves

about their icon for over 200 years.

There's no need to get ugly.

You'll be paid, just like always.

Now, will you please send the drawer pulls today?

All right, COD

I can't believe you screwed up like that.

We're this close to chapter 11.

You don't seem to give a damn

about taking care of our best customer.

And whose idea was it

to sink all of our ready cash

into advertising for the Joshua Peabody Day,

which looks like it's gonna lay a huge egg?

If we are about to go down, it is not my fault.

Sorry to trouble you. Just wondered if you might have

any early Dutch-American pieces.

Not at the moment, no.

Is there anything in particular you were looking for?

Nothing special.

Pity.

I have to tell you, Jessica, based solely on observation,

this signature is either George Washington's

or a world-class forgery.

The text seems plausible, too, Dr. Blakely.

If I remember my history correctly,

the fall and winter of 1780

were rough times for the continental army.

I mean, defeats in the South,

Benedict Arnold, all that sort of thing.

And according to this, a lot of people

were having second thoughts at the end of 1780.

Maybe Joshua Peabody was one of them.

I don't even wanna think about what this is gonna do to tourism around here.

What doesn't make sense is that if he were paid

to lose the battle,

how come our side won?

And if Peabody did make a deal with the British,

why would he hang onto such an incriminating document

and keep it hidden in a music box?

Well, that bothers me, too, Mort.

But, you know, it's possible

that Joshua was trying to cover himself.

Maybe he figured that if the British

had gone on to win the war,

the letter could give him an excuse

for his failure to honor their deal

at the battle of Cabot Cove.

Oh, right.

On the other hand, if this is a hoax,

why would anyone go to all this trouble?

What could they possibly hope to gain from it?

Well, this is all idle speculation

till we get the results of the groundwood

and aqueous tests on the paper and ink.

They should pretty well confirm or deny

the accuracy of the documents.

I'll be in touch.

Sheriff's office. Metzger.

Hi, Sheriff. You got any word on that paper yet?

No, Ezra, there is no definite word.

Yes.

Yes, we'll make sure that everyone is notified.

Okay, bye.

Ezra down at the Light House Motel.

We have got one frightened bunch

of businesspeople on our hands.

Oh, I don't believe you, Hawkes.

A historical scandal drops right into our laps,

and you want to ignore it?

I mean, the attention that this could draw to all of us

the minute we go public, money in the bank.

I told you, not a word until it's authenticated.

It's my reputation that's on the line here.

Oh, for God's sake, give it up, will you?

We're documentary filmmakers.

We deal in actuality, remember?

What the hell's that supposed to mean?

That whatever we get on film

tells us what kind of movie it wants to be.

So we started out doing a story

about the battle of Cabot Cove. Well, guess what?

That old piece of paper is the story,

whether or not we like it and whether or not it's real.

That, and a town that might just fall apart,

and we're in the middle of it.

That, my boy, is the stuff of dreams,

the stuff that network careers are built on.

Okay, let me remind both of you,

I am the director, all right?

And until that changes,

I make the decisions in this outfit.

And right now I've decided to take my assistant to dinner.

I'll see you at the reenactment tomorrow.

Oh, look at the bright side, Scott.

I'm sure he'll give you his leftovers...

once he's through with her.

- Mind your own damn business. - Cool it, Scott.

The lady's only speaking the truth.

Thanks for helping me try to change Rick's mind.

That's the least of your worries.

I've been going over the production reports.

One day into this thing,

and he's already three days behind schedule.

At this rate, he's gonna go 60%, 70% over budget.

I never wanted him.

But the brass couldn't wait to hire the Emmy-winning filmmaker.

Hawkes won that Emmy eight years ago.

This is the first significant gig he's had in a very long time.

Tell me something new.

I don't know what they do at your station,

but anyplace else, a producer lets a director run wild,

the producer's the one who takes the fall.

Yes. Yes, a letter has been found.

No, I can't confirm its contents or its authenticity.

Not at this time. Thank you very much.

That was The Boothbay Harbor Gazette.

Oh, dear. Next it'll be the Boston papers,

then New York and then the TV networks.

I don't know how this news got out,

but it sure is spreading fast.

All the more reason you need to find out

who broke into the Peabody house

and planted that letter.

I was just about to mention that.

We checked all the doors

and all the windows.

There was no sign of forced entry.

Now, look, does anyone else besides you have a key?

A cleaning service, a bookkeeper?

You're talking to the cleaning service

and the bookkeeper!

Oh. Mort, you know how Harold loved that old house.

And I promised my husband

I would always look after the family name

and the family home.

Edie, we just dropped by your place

and Louise told us that you were here.

You've heard from professor Blakely.

Yes. Yes, we have.

And the university lab have confirmed

that the ink in the letter is chemically identical

to ink that was commonly used in revolutionary times.

They've also ascertained that the paper itself

is over 200 years old.

No.

No, that can't be true.

And then there are the stains on the letter.

They're whale oil.

Which was used back then to lubricate machinery,

such as music boxes.

Edie, I'm afraid the bottom line

is that there is no way to prove

that the letter isn't real.

So it looks as if they'll have to rewrite the history

of Joshua Peabody and the battle of Cabot Cove.

Damn you, Jessica!

If you'd let me burn that rotten letter, like it deserved,

none of this would be happening.

Now everything's ruined.

The Peabody name, the town's reputation,

the tourist business!

It's all on your shoulders!

Shoo, shoo! Scoot! All of you!

You should be ashamed of yourselves!

All right, folks. Let's break it up here, all right?

There's nothing to see. It's just some kid's prank.

Better yet, why don't we just clear out the area?

The battle reenactment's coming up, all right?

Thank you very much. Edith, you wanna come down, please?

- Let me do that for you. - Oh, Mort!

Where have you been?

How could you let this happen?

We're working pretty short-handed, Edith.

Everybody's over at Oak Street handling traffic control.

Traffic control? That would be easy to believe

if there were more tourists.

How about a picture, Mrs. Peabody?

Oh, stop that! Stop that! Get out of here.

Cabot Cove, this classic New England fishing village,

picturesque, tucked into our rugged Atlantic coastline,

as American as the fourth of July,

has been shaken to its very cultural and historical roots

with the dramatic discovery

that its most famous patriot

was actually in league with the British.

With me now is local antique dealer Nancy Godfrey.

Nancy, how is this affecting your annual celebration

of the battle of Cabot Cove?

Well, as you can see...

would you excuse me for one minute?

Nancy, just...

Rick and I have been talking,

and there are some real problems with the uniforms.

I've got our notes right here, and--

I will talk to Rick myself.

And I would appreciate it

if you would keep out from underfoot.

Hut, two, three...

Jessica, I think you've got to let it go.

The document is genuine, and that's that.

I don't know. I mean, supposing Richard Hawkes

hadn't decided to use the music box.

Then we might've had to wait another 200 years to find it.

Mrs. Fletcher, as Cabot Cove's most prominent living citizen,

what do you think about the appearance of this mysterious letter?

Well, I think that the jury is still out

on its authenticity.

Really? Can you elaborate?

Well, I can't right now, I'm afraid.

We have a reenactment to wage.

And as you approach the bandstand,

I want you to veer to the left.

Excuse me, Mr. Hawkes. We've done this for years,

and we have never charged the bandstand.

Tom is right. It's past the oak tree,

then down toward the waterfront.

- That's how the battle was fought. - Exactly.

No! That was later. According to my research--

What difference does it make? Just shoot the damn thing!

Get the hell off my set.

Your set?

What about our reenactment?

Richard, Seth... Richard, isn't it true

that if you photograph them in close-up,

the direction that they're moving won't be all that critical?

Then once they've passed the bandstand and turned,

we can go wider. Yeah, that'll work.

Suppose we could live with that.

All right. Done.

Amelia, keep the shot tight, please.

Okay, everybody, this is picture! Let's go!

That's twice you've bailed me out. Thank you.

Quiet please! Rolling!

Speed!

Scene 16, take one, Mark.

And action!

Beat! Assembly!

Whoa!

Somebody grab that horse!

Scott, are you okay?

Yeah. If I'd have known all it took to get your attention

was almost getting kicked in the head by a horse,

I'd have arranged it a long time ago.

Jessica, I keep forgetting to give you this release form.

Oh, that's all right.

Um, I understand my mom was pretty hostile last night.

I'm sorry.

Oh, it's quite understandable.

Louise. Hi, Mrs. Fletcher. Excuse me.

Can we get this done today, please?

Yeah.

Let's get everybody back to their start marks.

We'll take it again.

Dr. Hazlitt, officers in the continental army

didn't carry powder horns.

Let's ask the property master to get you a sword.

Whatever keeps you happy.

Mrs. F, I did like you suggested.

I faxed Interpol and NCIC

for information about world-class forgers.

So far, nothing.

Okay, folks, please. Let's get this done!

Rolling!

Speed.

Scene 16, take two. Mark.

And... settle down, please!

And action!

Beat! Assembly!

Lieutenant, take charge.

To the front!

March!

Back line, march!

Poise! Firelock!

Cock firelock!

Take aim!

Fire!

- Terrific. - Half-cock!

- Firelock! - Cut! Cut!

What are you doing?

We are reloading our muskets.

You didn't do that in rehearsal.

That's because you wouldn't let them fire them during rehearsal!

You see, there are 13 steps in reloading a musket.

First, you put the hammer back,

then you handle the cartridge, put the powder--

Wait. We're not shooting a miniseries here.

We don't have time to film 13 different steps!

We do this every year. If you had had the courtesy--

That's it! I can't work like that! That's a wrap!

What're you talking about? We've still got three hours of daylight left!

What's with the temper?

He can't work this way?

What about the rest of us?

Careful where you point that uniform, admiral.

Those buttons could be lethal.

Buttons may not be all that I pop.

You know, I hired you with the understanding

you could keep the local bumpkins in line

and assure their cooperation.

I'm sorry.

"Sorry" doesn't cut it, kiddo.

Hey! Just the man I want to see.

We have to go over tomorrow's shot list.

Oh, forget it. I just spent

two very tough hours on the phone to Boston.

I've gotta tell you, you had those folks fooled.

Had...

- what are you saying? - What I'm saying, buddy boy...

is I gave them a dose of reality

and it finally broke their fever.

You're off the project.

As of now, Amelia Farnum is directing this film.

Amelia? What's she ever directed?

Oh, this was her little plot all along, wasn't it?

Oh, trust me, Ricko, you torpedoed yourself.

Bob, you can't do this.

I can.

And I have.

Company, march!

Hut, two, three, four. Hut, two, three, four.

Amelia should be back in a few minutes, Mrs. Fletcher.

Thanks a lot. Appreciate it.

She was anxious for me to sync up yesterday's footage

so she can see what needs to be re-shot.

I think I'd better wait.

Her phone message said

that she had some changes in my narration.

Well, no matter what Louise says,

Amelia's gotta be a better choice than Hawkes.

Louise took his firing so hard, she quit.

I heard.

Ah, you use double system, don't you?

You know something about film, Mrs. Fletcher?

Well, I only have a reading acquaintance, you understand,

but I do a lot of research.

But this is the first time I've ever seen it firsthand.

It isn't all that complicated, really.

It just means that when we shoot the picture,

the sound is recorded on this quarter-inch tape

instead of on the film.

Then we have the sound that's on the tape

copied onto this stuff. It's mag-track.

It's film that's coated with iron oxide.

So when you run it under a sound head

it reads the sound just like a tape recorder.

Quiet please. Rolling.

Scene 16, take one. Mark.

Now, I find the picture where the clapstick hits

and line them up,

and sound and picture are in sync with each other.

And real soon, I hope.

- Hi, Mrs. Fletcher. - Hi.

Now that we know that the letter is authentic,

I've just made a few changes in your script.

Yes, of course.

Jessica, I hope you don't mind my just dropping by like this,

but do you have a minute?

Oh, of course I do. Please, come in.

I had no business blowing up at you the way I did.

I wish I could just take back what I said.

Listen, it's forgotten.

It's hard to adjust.

It seems like all my life I've been keeper of the flame.

And now just to admit it was all a waste?

It may not be, Edith.

Mrs. F, Edith.

Please come in. Any news?

Yes. But not what you're looking for, I'm afraid.

I just heard from Dr. Blakely.

He said he tried to call you earlier.

He wanted you to know that he's traced that paper.

It seems it was manufactured over 200 years ago in Virginia

by Kelso and Sons of Williamsburg,

and George Washington is known

to have used that same paper for other documents.

Not a waste?

It was a rough day in show business.

That new director, Amelia what's-her-name?

- Farnum. - Whatever.

She's worse than the fellow she's replacing.

She expected me to make that charge at a dead run.

Well, you are playing Major Prentice,

and he did lead the charge.

Yes, but he only had to make it once.

I had to do it seven times

before Frau director Farnum was satisfied.

Well, maybe that's because Major Prentice

had to get it right the first time.

How about some coffee, get your mind off things?

According to that,

the mercury stands comfortably above 80.

A hot cup of coffee is the last thing in the world I need, thank you.

Jessica, when you get back to earth,

would you like to tell us where you've been?

Thermometer.

Maybe that's one test that Dr. Blakely overlooked.

Hello?

I'm on my way. That was Andy.

There's a fire over at the movie company's office.

Looks like it was arson, Mrs. F.

Somebody poured some kind of solvent all over the floor.

- Good heavens. - Sheriff...

I think you better take a look at this.

It's Amelia Farnum.

Those calls...

that's from the head man at the station in Boston.

I guess he and Amelia were playing phone-tag.

The coroner will have to make final determination, of course,

but I'd say that miss Farnum hasn't been dead

more than an hour or so.

Apparently, killed by a blow to the head.

Well, the position of the wound would indicate

that the killer was standing directly in front of her

when it happened.

Any thoughts on the murder weapon?

Something heavy, you can bet on that.

I don't know if it means anything, Sheriff,

but the property master told me

he's missing an antique flintlock pistol.

You know, I noticed a tiny cut

on the inside of her left thumb.

She could've got that from handling the film.

- I get them if I don't wear gloves. - Ah.

Oh, thank God our picture and mag-track are still here.

Let me get this straight, Scott.

You were over in your motel room, alone.

You heard the fire trucks and came right over here?

I can see this place from my room.

And what about Louise and Bob Kendall?

Did you see them at the motel?

No, I haven't seen either one of them all evening.

- How about Hawkes? - Not since yesterday.

When Kendall fired him.

Pardon me, Mr. Hawkes, I think we should talk.

My name is Paul Tavener.

Excuse me, Mr. Tavener, I don't want to be rude,

but I've been up most of the night,

and I desperately need some sleep. Thanks.

I just thought you might be interested to know

I've finally put together the last piece of a puzzle

that started with Sandsby and Son in London

and ultimately led me here to Cabot Cove.

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

What I'm talking about is a clever little game

wherein you turn a dull, low-budget film

about a small-town celebration

into a historical detective story.

Who bribed Joshua Peabody, and for how much?

What did George Washington know?

- When did he know it? - You're crazy, pal.

Mr. Hawkes, your career is about to blast off like a space shuttle.

And one way or the other, I am going to be aboard.

Look, in case you haven't heard,

it's not my documentary anymore. I've been fired.

With your replacement so inconveniently turning up dead,

who else can they turn to to finish the project?

We'll talk more about it later, Mr. Hawkes.

Cheerio.

Oh, these drawer pulls are perfect.

Thanks for taking care of it so promptly for me.

No problem. We're not exactly up to our ears in customers,

what with this Joshua Peabody thing.

Oh, it's pretty bad.

I was talking to Bill Mahaffey over at Hill House,

and he said that people were canceling their reservations.

Yeah. We're considering closing up the shop

and moving the whole operation to Bar Harbor.

Oh, dear.

Everybody's got better things to do

than hang around here and bellyache.

Sorry about the mix-up, Jess.

Hello?

Oh, Dr. Blakely.

No. This is a good time.

You did?

Wait. I want to write this down.

What happened to Amelia is a tragedy.

But like it or not, we gotta get back to work.

And we got a lot to do,

considering we'll be making a major course correction.

From now on, the focus of this film

will be the Washington letter.

Richard, no.

I've done a lot of soul-searching about this,

and like it or not, Amelia was right.

The letter is the story.

Especially now that it's been authenticated.

But it hasn't been authenticated, Richard.

Excuse me, Jessica?

Look, it's a very, very clever forgery.

And one which might have gone undetected,

if the forger hadn't overlooked something

that was virtually nonexistent in 1780.

Industrial pollution of the oceans.

Mercury, to be precise.

Seth reminded me of it last night

when he looked at my kitchen thermometer.

And I asked Dr. Blakely

to run one more test on the whale oil.

And unlike the residue in the music box mechanism,

he found that the stains on the paper

contained trace amounts of mercury

that didn't exist in the oceans until quite recently.

Whoever created that letter thought everything through very carefully...

the ink, the paper.

But they couldn't get their hands on whale oil

that didn't contain modern pollutants.

But who would do something like that?

And why?

Wait a minute. It was you, wasn't it?

You suddenly get this convenient inspiration to use the music box

because you knew the damn thing was in there.

Whoa, Mr. Kendall, that could've been planted by almost anybody.

And maybe Mr. Hawkes just happened to cause it to be discovered

before the perpetrator actually intended.

Plus, we don't even know if the forgery

had anything to do with Miss Farnum's murder,

which is my number one priority right now.

Hello? Yeah, Andy. What have you got?

I tracked down that English fellow Mrs. Fletcher mentioned.

You want me to haul him down to the office?

Louise!

Are you paying attention here?

I said scene three. Apple. Apple. Right there.

I'm sorry.

Rick, I don't understand.

You're back on the job, we're making the film

that you started out to make.

- What is it? - Nothing. Nothing.

I'm tired. This whole thing has been a little stressful.

Last night you said you were going to call.

I waited up till way after midnight.

Louise...

look, I don't want you to get your hopes up about us, okay?

That isn't the message I've been getting.

Not in Boston, not here.

I can't deal with this right now, all right?

Are you seeing somebody else?

Damn it, I said I don't want to talk about it.

- Rick, all I-- - No!

You know, you got a lot to learn about this business,

starting with when to keep your mouth shut!

Hey, don't let him bug you, huh?

He's a big jerk.

This just came in from Scotland Yard, Mr. Tavener.

It identifies you as one Jeffrey Caldwell,

a, quote, "world-class forger," unquote.

Wanted for questioning in the London murder of one of your associates,

a guy named Alexander Sandsby, who Interpol describes

as your basic trafficker of phony manuscripts, documents, etc.

I have never killed anyone, Sheriff.

Not Sandsby and certainly not your Miss Farnum.

But you did forge the George Washington letter?

Sandsby hired me.

And it was a job to be proud of, if I may say so.

He had a contact in Virginia,

where there'd been a find,

a quantity of really old paper.

According to Dr. Blakely,

some of it turns up every few years,

usually in attics and old storerooms.

So who was Sandsby's client? Who hired him?

Sandsby was always quite discrete about such things.

But when the old boy turned up murdered,

it occurred to me that, for once, the stakes might be high enough

to warrant further investigation.

Which led you to Cabot Cove.

And, lo and behold, here were these people

shooting this movie.

And suddenly my handiwork is discovered.

When Amelia Farnum appropriated Hawkes' job,

I assumed she was the mastermind behind the plot.

So last night I went to the production office

to, uh... discuss it with her.

Wait a second. You're saying you were in the production office?

That's what I'm trying to tell you, Sheriff.

That's when I saw Miss Farnum's killer.

Yes, I was at the production office last night.

I thought I could talk Amelia

out of using the George Washington letter.

Did you have any luck?

Unfortunately, no. I begged her.

I even tried to bribe her.

She said the film would do more for her future

than any amount of money I could come up with.

I was almost beside myself with anger.

I just left.

Excuse me, Sheriff.

I found this under the seat of Mrs. Peabody's car.

Property master says it's the one that was missing.

And it appears to have bloodstains on it.

I don't understand.

I don't know how that got in my car.

Mort, I didn't kill her.

I'm sorry, Edith. I have no other choice.

Until we get a forensics report back on that thing,

I'm gonna have to hold you on suspicion of murder.

The state police lab has confirmed it, Mrs. F.

They've positively ID'd the blood. It was Amelia Farnum's.

And the antique pistol was the murder weapon.

But I don't see anything here about fingerprints.

Well, maybe Edith just wiped it clean

or wore one of those gloves the film editors wear.

Oh, yes, of course. And then left the gun in her car

so that Andy could find it.

Jess, you must admit, past few days,

Edith Peabody hasn't exactly been your shining example

of a rational person.

I know that. But...

what did Scott call it? The mag-track.

Last night, when I saw the two reels with sound and picture,

they were both cut to the same length,

which means that a lot of it must've been missing.

Hey, you want to let us in on it? A lot of what?

Sound, Sheriff.

And I think I know why.

But, Mrs. F, what's this got to do

with Amelia Farnum's murder?

Proof that Edith Peabody didn't do it, I hope.

Scott, when did you finish syncing up this footage?

I never got around to this till this morning.

Apparently, Amelia was in the middle of doing it last night when...

yesterday, when you were explaining to me

the double-system process,

the sound reel was noticeably longer

than the picture reel, wasn't it?

Yeah, it had to be. When that horse got spooked,

I was so freaked out, I left my tape recorder running.

And I got dragged off to look for an officer's sword.

All right. Here we go.

Scene 16, take one. Mark.

And action!

Sound the assembly!

Cut! Cut!

There! Can you stop it right there?

As I recall, there was a two-to three-minute delay

between those two takes.

At 90 feet a minute, we're talking at least a couple of hundred feet

of nothing soundtrack.

And you're quite sure it isn't here?

Yeah. I've looked everywhere.

I never throw any of this stuff away.

Mrs. F?

Scott...

maybe that isn't such nothing soundtrack after all.

So, Kendall, tell me, you and Amelia...

that was going on for quite some time, wasn't it?

Yeah. She wasn't exactly miss warmth and charm.

Yeah. It was business for both of us.

Except in her case, we're talking career moves.

People using people. Don't take it personally.

Don't take it... listen, man,

the last eight years have been very long and very cold.

No offense, Ricky, but I can understand why.

Anyway, Amelia and her blind ambition are behind us now.

And since the profile of this project

is sinking beneath the horizon, even as we speak--

You.

- What-- - It was you, wasn't it?

- Me? Me what? - Yeah.

Nailing me so she could become director,

that wasn't enough. Those phone messages

from the head of the station in Boston.

She sees her chance to exploit that phony letter,

so now she wants to get rid of you, too.

So you go in there last night and you pop her.

Oh, you really are wiggy, mister.

Am I? Oh, wow, I love it. I really do.

And I can't say I blame you--

Okay. Stop!

The sooner you're out of my sight, the better.

So here's what it is. No more Mr. Creative.

You go out there and yell "action" and "cut" like a good fellow,

and you get us the hell out of town by tomorrow night. Deal?

Then we never have to look at each other again.

The law's gonna take care of that one, Bobby.

Hi, Tom.

Listen, have you seen Rick Hawkes or Bob Kendall?

No. As a matter of fact,

they were supposed to be here about a half hour ago

to look over some props for this afternoon's shoot.

Anything urgent, Scott?

You better believe it.

My tape recorder, it's busted.

Which means we can't shoot anything

that requires sound.

I won't be able to make the quarter-inch

master soundtrack we need to make the mag.

Whoa. Quarter-inch master?

Would you explain all that to me?

This tech stuff... I love it.

Tom.

Tom, can't you see that he's got better things to do?

Tom, Nancy's right. Listen, if you do see them,

could you tell them I took it down to Portland to be repaired?

I should be back late tonight.

- Mmm-hmm. - Sure.

Thanks a lot.

I think that's the tape you're looking for, Nancy.

The quarter-inch master tape that you didn't realize existed

until Scott mentioned it in your shop today.

Tape? No.

I needed a flat box to ship some doilies in.

I noticed that there were some here when I was in the production office.

Yes. But you picked the one that was dated last Thursday,

the one you thought contained some very incriminating recording.

The night you murdered Amelia Farnum, quite by accident.

You must have heard the version that had been transferred

to the mag-track from the master.

Only you didn't know it existed until Scott told you today.

Ha! I think you've gone off the deep end, Jessica.

I didn't kill Amelia Farnum,

and there is nothing on that tape that connects me to her.

That's true. There's only the admission

that you and Richard Hawkes planned the Joshua Peabody hoax.

Trust me, Ricky. There is nothing to worry about.

No one, not even Jessica Fletcher,

is gonna be able to prove we faked the letter.

What you didn't realize at the time

was that Scott had inadvertently left his tape recorder going,

that everything you and Hawkes said

was being recorded with his shotgun Mike.

All right. I won't deny it.

I hid the letter in the music box

when I was running an inventory with Edith

over at the Joshua Peabody house.

But why?

My marriage began to fall apart about a year ago.

I was on a buying trip in Boston

and I met Richard Hawkes, and one thing lead to another.

And we knew that if we could sensationalize this Joshua Peabody film

that it would revitalize his career

and we would have a whole brand new start together.

Just the two of us. With money.

And you thought you'd pulled it off,

until Paul Tavener showed up at Cabot Cove.

Yeah. And he made the connection between the forgery and the film.

Only he assumed that Richard had been the sole Instigator,

and that it was Richard who had contracted with Sandsby in London

and killed him.

Well, he was mistaken. It was you, Nancy.

Oh, no. Richard and I may have tried to pull off a scam,

but I did not kill anyone.

But you were in London on May 6,

when Sandsby was murdered and his warehouse was torched.

Wrong! I was in Vermont on a buying trip.

That's where I picked out that chest of drawers for you!

I'm afraid not, Nancy. You made the mistake

of leaving the dealer's tag on the chest,

a tag with some numbers on it.

And there was something very familiar about it.

And then I realized it was the country code for Great Britain.

It's 4-4, and the code for his area of London is 7-1.

The rest of it is the phone number of the Royal Berkshire Hotel,

where you were staying on the date Sandsby was murdered.

The antique dealer in Vermont has confirmed

that he called you at that number in London

to tell you that he'd found the chest

you'd asked him to look for on my behalf,

and you bought it unseen.

We've got your phone and credit card records.

And the hotel has you listed as a guest two months earlier.

Which is when you hired Alexander Sandsby

to forge the letter.

So I pulled off a prank, period!

That doesn't prove anything!

Not true.

That cut on your right wrist.

I believe that forensics will be able to prove

that it was caused by the edges of that silver bracelet

that you always wore... until after the murder.

God's sake, Nance, why didn't you tell me

this Fletcher woman was your neighbor? She scares me.

She's not as gullible as the rest of these yutzes.

Trust me, Ricky. There is nothing to worry about.

No one, not even Jessica Fletcher,

is gonna be able to prove we faked the letter.

I want that. Now.

What, are you kidding? This track will make the whole picture.

A small town junk dealer and a washed-up director in a document fraud.

I noticed that Amelia also had a small, fresh cut

on the inside of her left thumb.

In self-defense, she must've grabbed your wrist, cutting both of you.

In desperation, you reached for the only weapon at hand,

the antique pistol,

and brought it down on her head, killing her instantly.

You took the incriminating mag-track,

then you poured the film-cleaning solvent into the film bin,

hoping that the fire would destroy all evidence of murder.

Richard didn't know about the killings.

He did his thing and I did mine.

Oh, Jessica.

Well, it looks as if Joshua Peabody's reputation

is good for another 200 years.

That's more than I can say for my digestion.

I can't wait to get out of this monkey suit.

Oh, I wouldn't hurry, Doc.

You're a walking, talking photo-op

for all the tourists that are pouring into town.

Sure.

And there's next year's celebration to consider.

Once you take that off,

you might not be able to get back into it again.

Cute. Very cute.