All language subtitles for MrSWr1104

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

I advised his wife to leave him.

Some harmless crank.

What is that? Hate mail?

What my readers want to know

is, who she came home with.

Loretta, I think somebody would like to talk to you.

Harry Mordecai buries it all on page four

so he can devote the first three

to "Nude Body on Embarcadero".

You've got a damn nerve.

Feisty little thing, aren't you?

I think you'll find I can play almost any tune.

John goes, and I take a hike.

You really think it's smart of you

to make another enemy?

- Loretta! - You're dead, Loretta.

There he goes!

You're dead, Loretta.

John, I completely understand.

It was unforgivable of me to overrule you

in front of your own staff.

Harry, where you did it is not the point.

What this is about is that as long as I'm your managing editor,

I will not have you second-guessing me

about what stories go where.

John, I'm sorry you're taking it this way.

Okay. Fine.

Looks as if I'll have plenty of time to work on my memoirs.

Effective immediately.

Frankly, Harry,

none of this comes as a huge surprise.

Most of us expected something like this

from the day we learned that you'd bought the paper.

Oh, please, a stop sign reads more exciting than that.

Darling. Darling, I know who she came to the opening with.

Oh, how did it go?

Lions 35, Christians nothing.

Anyway, what my readers want to know

is, who she came home with.

You little devil.

Well, we'll talk about that later. Okay.

Bye.

Oh. This is for you, Miss Kemp.

Listen, I was wondering if maybe we could--

This is for Max Charles.

Sorry.

Jessica.

Oh.

Well, we won't need to find you a vacant office.

This one's available, as of now.

John, what happened?

What happened is 30 days under Harry Mordecai.

The Middle East is about to blow up.

Congress is at war with itself,

San Francisco has a budget crisis,

and our esteemed publisher buries it all on page four

so he can devote the first three

to "Nude Body on Embarcadero."

Well, they're gonna have to do it without me.

It's probably just as well.

I'm just about as much of a relic as... as this is.

Well, I better get myself prepared.

I'm supposed to meet Mr. Mordecai.

Johnny!

Mrs. Fletcher.

Mrs. Fletcher, I'm delighted finally to meet you.

Well, how do you do, Mr. Mordecai?

I suppose Johnny here has been telling you

all sorts of horror stories about me.

- Well, I-- - They're all true.

No, seriously, Mrs. Fletcher, I trust that your edit

of our serialization of your novel will be a piece of cake.

I hope so.

So do I, Mrs. Fletcher.

Johnny, I've come to apologize, mate.

I was way out of line.

I stand here in abject humility,

and I promise you I will never try

to teach you how to do your job again.

Thanks. But no.

I've made up my mind.

All right. But stay for a month till I find a replacement.

And by way of an inducement,

I will then give you the boot,

thus enabling you to compel me

to buy out the remaining two years of your contract.

Okay. One month.

Good man.

Mrs. Fletcher, look, I'm afraid

I'm going to have to postpone our meeting till tomorrow.

But just to get you started,

for promotional purposes,

I've had to make one or two slight changes.

Now, that aging astronaut,

your murder victim... Charles Graham.

Is now a beautiful, vibrant, driven young woman

on her way up in the space industry.

Just a minor tweak,

just to add a little bit more heat to it.

Minor? Mr. Mordecai, I--

By the way, she dies in the jacuzzi.

I'll fill you in on the rest of the details later.

Ciao.

You still want that vacant office?

I don't believe it. For once in my life,

I get nominated for the Gramercy Award,

practically the next best thing to the Pulitzer,

and you didn't vote for me?

I forgot.

Hey, you gotta give me credit for honesty.

I could've lied. Besides, you're gonna win anyway.

Ah, from your lips.

Alexis, even if you don't,

Harry Mordecai's gotta recognize it

as one of the best pieces of writing he's ever seen.

There's one tiny flaw in your logic.

You're assuming the man can read.

Even if he can't, he can see.

So can we do dinner tomorrow night?

Max, I told you, forget it.

I'll call you next week.

Inside Wall Street.

Max, hello. I got another stock tip for your column.

Come on, Sidney.

I can only plug a stock in my column so many times

before I get the SEC on my neck.

Besides, our new publisher's laid down the law.

Shall I tell him about our last stock tip?

- Okay, okay. - You gotta do it, Max.

I hear you. It'll be in tomorrow's column.

Good.

- Hi. - Hi.

Well, I guess this is why they call it "Letters to Loretta."

- Uh-huh. - You really read all these, Miss Lee?

Every one of them, Troy.

The trick is, I only read every fourth word.

Oh. Not every third or fifth?

Oh, no, no. For some reason,

if you do that, they don't make sense.

Ah. Right.

What is that, hate mail?

Oh, yeah, yeah. I get a lot of them.

It's a fax from some harmless crank.

You know, it goes with the territory.

Man, they didn't teach us about that

in journalism school.

Oh, I got that may 10th edition

of The Union that you asked for.

Thank you, Troy.

- Bye-bye. - Bye.

Loretta Lee.

Look, I'm sorry to bother you with this, Miss Lee,

but I've got this lady down here.

She says her name is Nell,

and she insists you're expecting her.

Oh, yeah. Will you send her right up, Charlie?

Yes, ma'am, if you say so.

Why don't you take the elevator?

Thanks for voting for me, Emma.

I don't mean to come on like a politician, but I--

Hey, if I had a Gramercy Award Nomination,

I'd be grabbing people by the lapels, too.

Speaking of your subject matter...

Nell?

Hello.

Where's miss Lee's office?

Uh, down the hall and to your right.

I know her.

What? Your series? You ran her picture.

Yeah, she was one of my major sources.

Very... eccentric.

But it's the truth.

I... I couldn't keep it to myself any longer.

Look, Miss Carson--

Nell, here.

It isn't that I don't appreciate you calling me,

or that I don't believe you,

it's just that I need some proof.

You know, something tangible.

Now, you're sure it wasn't there

when the hospital gave you back Mr. Moore's things after he died?

Positively.

Aww. Poor Freddie.

We, all of us, loved him.

What about where he lived?

It was gone. I went all over his regular digs

down on market street and his weekend place.

His what?

Oh, he had this big packing crate

down by the Presidio.

Right on the bay. Wonderful view.

Well, all right.

I want you to keep on looking,

and you call me the minute that you find anything.

I saw it, Miss Lee. I really did.

I heard about this fax from this T.D.

passion keeping pace with technology...

or something like that.

I'm not sure, but I seem to recall

that I advised his wife to leave him

because he was abusive. Apparently she did.

Well, I think we should call the police on this one.

Oh, John, it's no different than the others.

He'll calm down in a few days.

Okay. But if you hear from him again...

Are you serious about quitting?

Deadly.

But as much as it pains me to admit it,

the new Union will survive perfectly well without me.

Maybe the new Union will,

but you were the heart of the old one.

Well, I sent in my ballot last week.

And, yes, you got my vote.

Oh, thanks, Loretta.

Listen, I know I've been a nudge, but I need this,

what with the new management and all.

Well, the paper needs it, Alexis.

Especially with John leaving and his job up for grabs.

Oh, I don't think Mr. Mordecai would really consider me.

Oh, by the way, that bag lady, Nell,

in case you're gonna use her for anything,

I have to warn you, she's not terribly reliable.

- I can believe that. - Loretta, will you excuse us?

Alexis, you and I need to talk about your new feature piece.

I want to get my nickel's worth in

before our esteemed publisher mucks it up.

- You better hurry. - Alexis, darling!

I want to talk to you about your project.

I've got a few ideas I'd like to run by you,

just to clue you in a bit.

You wanted to talk to me about something, Loretta?

Yeah, Max, I did.

Now, wait just a minute. Who in the hell

gave you the right to tell me how to run my life?

Max, I'm trying to tell you how to save it.

I've been tracking your game.

Your recommendation sends the price of the stock up 30%, 40%.

Then you sell it short, and then you write a column

saying that there must be something terribly wrong

with the company's products.

Those products were lousy.

The price plummets, and you clean up

through those dummy trading accounts.

Okay.

Look, I can't pay you anything just yet, but--

Max, I don't want money.

I want you to stop before you end up in prison.

And that possibility doesn't bother me half as much

as the effect that it will have on John

and on the paper.

Loretta, I could use some advice

on ordering in lunch.

Tell me, is this place any good?

Turkey sandwich, nine bucks.

No way.

You really want the best spot for lunch?

Come on.

Was I right?

Absolutely. It's delicious.

Actually, I have an ulterior motive.

John?

I guess you know how badly he's been trying

to finish his autobiography.

He's been going on for years

about when he was going to do it,

lamenting that he never had enough time.

Well, I doubt that that will apply anymore.

I think someone over here wants to talk to you.

Oh.

It's all right, Nell.

Mrs. Fletcher is a friend.

I've been looking all morning, everywhere.

And?

Thanks for the lunch, Loretta,

but I've gotta come up with 14 cliffhangers.

I'll talk to you later.

Come on, don't be frightened.

Nell, tell me, tell me.

I still didn't find it.

Oh, god.

Beer, please.

Miss Hill, Emma. Do you mind if I join you?

Troy, old lad, nice to see you here, boy.

Alexis, I just wanted to run this past you.

Staff party, here, Saturday night. You're the guest of honor.

Oh. Ha ha!

Mr. Mordecai, that is so sweet.

But, um, suppose I lose.

Darling, judging from the competition,

there's no chance of that happening.

Uh, excuse me, won't you?

Confidentially, Alexis,

this may make a considerable change

to your position at The Union.

Oh.

Hi.

My darling Loretta Lee.

What can I do for you?

Ah. I know, I know.

It's about this John Galloway business, isn't it?

You bet your bum it is, darling.

Well, I was gonna let you into the loop.

I know that you and John are very close.

Oh, you don't know the half of it.

But this isn't about John and me,

this is about John

and The San Francisco Union.

And about journalistic integrity and all that.

Yes, I've heard it a thousand times before.

But the real truth of the matter is,

John is unwilling to come into the 20th century--

Okay! Let me put it another way.

I hope it's not too opaque for you.

John goes, and I take a hike.

Well, I did think it might come down to this.

Well, I'm pleased that we understand each other.

I don't think we do understand each other yet, Miss Lee.

Now, here's a little thought for you to ponder on.

Given the state of your fan mail,

do you really think it's smart of you

to make another enemy?

I'm not bluffing.

That's 35 cents, please. Thank you. Next, Sir?

I'll see you all tomorrow.

Loretta, I'm going your way. Can I drop you?

No, thanks. I'll just catch the cable car right out there.

All right.

There! There he goes!

Watch out! Out of the way!

Watch out! Hey, you, stop!

Oh, don't make such a fuss.

The bullet just grazed my arm.

My coat took the worst of it.

- Miss Lee, you're going to have-- - Speak up, please.

I said...

excuse me.

Loretta, the Sergeant found your hearing aid.

I'm afraid it broke when it fell.

You're going to the hospital for observation, ma'am.

That's all right. I'll catch up with you there later.

Mrs. Fletcher, this guy,

the alleged assailant in the raincoat.

Did you ever see him before? Maybe up at the paper?

Lieutenant, I only saw the person from the rear.

I mean, with that baseball cap,

I couldn't even swear that it was a man.

What about all those threats that Loretta received?

Well, we'll go through her mail.

If I had a buck for every threat to a Mayor,

a celebrity or a columnist we ran down--

Sorry about that. A cat my wife got to keep her company,

'cause I'm gone for long shifts.

Turns out I'm allergic to cat hair.

Guess where my wife got the idea?

Loretta?

She read it in Miss Lee's column.

Somebody wrote complaining they were lonely.

- Unbelievable. - Right there in the lobby, for god's sake.

She's alive, isn't she?

- I sure am, Max. - Are you okay?

Say again?

Are you all right?

Oh, 100%, thank you.

Excuse me.

More and more crazies out there.

Could have been any one of us.

Maybe you shouldn't be alone tonight.

And maybe the nutcases are taking shots at the wrong columnists.

It's me. I'm at the usual number.

Please call me as soon as you can.

To continue messages, press...

Miss Lee? I heard about last night.

What happened to you? I'm scared.

Nell, you're worrying too much.

I'm not even sure that the shooter was after me.

Now, have you... have you had any luck?

No, I don't think this was such a good idea.

Listen to me, nell.

It was wonderful of you to come to me with this.

And it is... it's very important.

I want you to promise me that you'll keep trying.

Please. Okay?

Yeah.

I got one more place I can look.

Oh, my God.

I told you not to leave the hospital without calling me.

Well, they released me at 5 a.m.

I didn't want to wake you up.

Oh, God, if I don't get another hearing aid,

I'm gonna go out of my mind.

I took yours over to be repaired.

They promised it would be ready today.

- I'll see that you get it. - Thank you.

Now, look. Look...

police found a nine-millimeter bullet in the lobby,

and they're trying to track this threatening fax from this T.D. person,

but in the meantime, he or she is still out there.

Now, I want you someplace where you're out of danger.

This definitely is not it. Neither is your apartment.

Well, what? You want me to leave the country?

The V.I.P. hospitality suite

the paper keeps at the Powell Hotel.

That's where I'm putting you.

- V.I.P.? - Come on.

If I had known that was all it took,

I would have paid somebody to shoot me a long time ago.

I'll have your calls forwarded, Loretta. Now, come on.

Mr. Kelly, I assure you, you'll have an absolutely free hand.

Come in.

Yeah?

Harry, are you sure?

Absolutely, Edward. Absolutely, mate.

All right, then. Well, listen, Mr. Kelly,

I'm gonna have to have an answer from you

by Monday afternoon at the latest, okay?

All right, then. Good-bye, Mr. Kelly.

- Good-bye, Harry. - Bye.

Now, about your book--

Mr. Mordecai, while I thoroughly appreciate

all the thought that you have put into these memos and suggestions

regarding me changing the "take", as you call it, on my novel,

the fact remains that the previous management bought my book.

Mrs. Fletcher, are you telling me

that you're refusing to make the changes that I've requested?

Yes. Yes, I am.

They wanted to serialize the book that I wrote.

Now, if you don't want to do that,

that is your problem.

Well, you got a damn nerve.

Feisty little thing, aren't you?

Well, I respect that in a woman.

All right, Mrs. Fletcher,

all right. Just this once,

we'll keep the book as you wrote it.

And I will give you the chapter synopsis first thing tomorrow.

Splendid. Splendid.

Let me find out as soon as you can. Okay.

Mrs. Fletcher. I've been looking for you.

Does this look like the coat

worn by the person you saw running away?

The color is similar.

We found it in a dumpster a block from here.

We'll run tests

for powder burns and prints.

I think the guy was running away

and ditched it so he wouldn't be spotted.

Are you quite sure it was a man?

Well, the coat buttons left over right,

and the label is Murray's for men.

And the fax from T.D.?

It was sent from a copy shop in Haight-Ashbury.

And there are 227 T.D.'s

in the San Francisco phone book.

But we're working on it.

I'll get right on it, Mr. Mordecai.

Right. And just a cautionary thought.

Um, nothing intellectual.

I mean, this is a story about our Loretta.

Terrorized, driven into hiding,

while a craven, faceless monster

stalks the night-- that kind of thing.

While the police stand helplessly by.

Civic leaders call for action,

and the San Francisco Union becomes the story

because Loretta is The Union.

Alexis, my dear, up until this moment,

I didn't think there was a soul in this bloody mausoleum

who knew my song.

Harry, I think you'll find

I can play almost any tune.

Ah. Lieutenant! Now, look,

I know the Police Department is doing all they can--

Look, Sir, I know what kind of clout you've got.

One phone call, I'm collecting tolls

on the Golden Gate Bridge.

I'm doing the best I can.

Relax, Lieutenant, relax.

All I was gonna say to you was, take your time.

Take your time, but get it right.

Loretta Lee is a very important part of our little family.

Thanks. Thanks for understanding.

Pardon me. Do you own a cat?

No.

Yeah. Mordecai here.

What can I do for you, Sir?

I got your front-page headline.

"Loretta's stalker baffles cops."

Emma, I go to lunch at 12:30.

What do you say?

I'd say you've got about 15 minutes.

Thanks, Troy, I've already eaten.

But I'll take a rain check.

Yeah, absolutely. Mm-hmm. Hang on.

Got anything for me?

Oh, yeah. Here you go.

- Thanks. - Troy.

Loretta's hearing aid is ready at this repair shop.

Would you pick it up and deliver it to her at her hotel?

Oh, sure thing, Mr. Galloway.

Jessica, I'm sorry to be late.

How's Loretta doing?

Last time I talked to her, she was fine.

I took her some lunch, I took her, her mail.

Lieutenant Evans said that he hadn't had much luck

identifying the gunman.

Alexis?

Hi.

- How's your Loretta story going? - Done.

I just finished plugging in my interview with her.

His Lordship's going to adore it.

Did she ever get her hearing aid?

I guess so. She was fine.

Listen, I've gotta run this past Mr. Mordecai, so...

good luck. And special good luck with the Gramercy Awards.

Thank you.

John Galloway.

You have?

Yeah. From fingerprints we found

on a half-pint bottle in the raincoat pocket,

we traced him to a trailer park in Sausalito.

Anyway, I thought you'd like to know.

They've located and arrested T.D.

he has a record, they found glue and scissors,

he's confessed to shooting at Loretta.

Thank goodness.

I tried to notify Miss Lee, but her line's busy.

Thanks, Lieutenant. We're just around the corner.

We'll go and tell her she's a free woman.

Yeah, I like this very much,

and so will Loretta's fans. It's got heat,

it's got passion, it's got angst.

Well, it may need a fresh angle, Harry.

- They just caught the shooter. - They didn't.

"Dewey defeats Truman" strikes again, eh, Harry?

Well, that's the newspaper business.

Loretta? Loretta?

Police must've gotten through to her

and told her that the coast was clear.

John!

Oh.

Appears to have been a blow to the head

with that water pitcher.

Mr. Galloway, from her wallet,

Loretta's real name was Claire Hogan?

Yeah, right.

The newspaper owned the fictitious name

and title, "Letters to Loretta Lee."

Around 25 years back, the first Loretta left to start a family.

What about next of kin?

None.

Her mother died ten years ago.

Loretta, Claire never married.

What about that diamond engagement ring she was wearing?

I believe it was her mother's.

- You figure it was this T.D. fella? - Afraid not.

T.D. has a job from 9:00 till 6:00 when we picked him up.

Hmm. People can leave work and then return.

T.D.'s a security guard for a local trucking company.

He works alongside another guy,

and they weren't out of each other's sight

for more than ten minutes.

Who besides you at the paper knew she was sequestered here?

Half the newsroom. The idea wasn't to protect her from us.

Maybe it should have been.

Look, with no sign of forced entry or robbery,

and using that water pitcher,

it feels like a spur-of-the-moment thing.

You know, an argument. Does she have enemies at the paper?

None that I know of.

This package that she got...

Garden Variety clasp envelope

with her name on it in this small plastic bag,

but no sign of what came in it.

Her hearing aid.

I dropped it off to be repaired first thing this morning.

Nob Hill Hearing Center.

I had a kid from the mail room pick it up

and deliver it to her hotel at around lunch time.

Kid got a name?

Lieutenant, you better take a look at this.

Mr. Galloway, I wonder if you can come over here.

Besides living long enough to try to phone for help,

Miss Lee apparently used her ring to carve her killer's name

on the underside of the glass,

I guess while still lying on the floor.

Me?

Come on, Mr. Galloway. According to the coroner,

she died between 4:00 and 6:00 p.m. yesterday,

and you cannot account for your whereabouts during that period.

- Lieutenant, I've told you-- - You did.

But home alone isn't gonna cut it.

John, are you all right?

I'm bloody but unbowed.

You wanted me to sign my statement?

Yeah.

Look, Mrs. Fletcher, I know how you feel about this man,

but we've been all over everyone else's movements.

The people from the newspaper, witnesses,

Miss Lee's visitors.

She only had two that we know of,

Troy Higgins, the mail room kid.

He delivered a hearing aid at, um...

at 12:30.

And Alexis Hill, who interviewed her and left by 2:30.

So, basically, what we're looking at here, motive or not,

is a single suspect.

Turned over?

Lieutenant, may I have a look

at those photographs, please?

- Sure. - Thank you.

There. The ring.

I didn't notice it when we found the body.

Lieutenant, if the ring was turned around

so that the Diamond was facing the palm,

I think it's next to impossible that Loretta, dying,

would have been able to scratch that message

on the underside of the table, palm up.

Yeah, you'd almost have to do it with your fist.

Which means the killer probably removed the ring,

etched the message in the glass...

and then put the ring back on Loretta's finger,

turning it around the wrong way.

Well, I've gotta tell you...

that makes all the sense in the world.

But the thing of it is, it sort of fits.

A guy like Mr. Galloway here,

who's smart enough to run a major newspaper,

he just might be smart enough to leave a message like that

and put the ring back in the wrong position

to fool someone as smart as you.

Anyway, I figure I've just got enough to sell this to the D.A.

Alexis, nice piece on Loretta and the stalker.

The interview, the follow-up on her death.

Thanks.

Well, you know, she was everybody's conscience.

Yeah, that's the part I'm not gonna miss.

Hey, come on, face it, she was sweet,

but she was a busybody.

I'm surprised that isn't what got her killed.

Truth is, maybe it did. Maybe she couldn't keep her nose

- out of John Galloway's business, either. - Mm-hmm.

You know, Max, you owe me, big time.

Yeah? What do you mean?

The part I left out of my story,

about your stock scam.

She told you?

Not to worry, darling.

It'll be our little secret.

And I'll expect you to show your appreciation,

starting today, when you tell Harry Mordecai

you think I'd make a great acting managing editor.

Bye, now.

It's tragic. In many ways,

Loretta was the franchise here at The Union.

I'd been planning to syndicate her nationally.

I didn't know that.

Sold her to over 400 newspapers.

She's gonna be almost impossible to replace.

Anyone with that delicacy of touch.

And then for John to go and do this--

I don't think that John killed her.

How about the police? Well, in my opinion,

the police don't have much of a case.

Well, I guess Mr. Mordecai

is as bummed out as the rest of us.

About the murder and everything.

You know, Troy, I don't know why,

but I just got the impression that he was more upset

about the possibility that John Galloway was innocent.

Well, that's weird.

Troy, when you delivered Loretta's hearing aid,

did she act strangely,

appear to be perturbed?

The police asked me the same thing.

No. I mean, I didn't know her very well,

but she seemed okay.

Aren't you forgetting Loretta's mail?

Oh, yes.

Well, I wonder who's gonna answer all these letters now.

Well, I gotta go.

Max, I have to talk to you.

Look, I'll get right to the point.

I know about your having used your column

to manipulate stock prices,

and I think that Loretta knew, too,

and that she confronted you with it.

Oh, God.

Listen, I didn't kill her.

I believe you, and I'm not here for recriminations, Max.

Listen, John Galloway may be tried and convicted

of a murder that he didn't commit,

and I can't let that happen.

Now, I need the truth.

Yes, I lied to the police.

I went there to talk to her.

I was gonna tell her that I was ready to turn myself into the SEC

but when I got there, she was already dead.

But how did you get in?

Well, I've got...

I have a key to the suite.

I've had it for months.

I, uh...

sometimes use it for a few hours for, you know...

anyway, I took one look, and I got the hell out of there.

What time was that?

About 5:00.

And you didn't tell the police

because you were afraid

that they would suspect you of the murder.

Start digging into why I was there.

Listen, Mrs. Fletcher, I hope you can get John off.

I hope so, too.

Uh, pardon me, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, yes, Emma.

It was on the news just now...

John Galloway has been formally charged

with first-degree murder.

We found the original manuscript

for Loretta's final column at the murder scene,

and Mr. Galloway's prints showed up all over it.

Which means he lied, that he really was up there

before you and he discovered the body.

Which means he killed her.

Lieutenant, I doubt very much

that that will stand up in court.

Funny. The prosecutor got real excited

when I laid it on him.

I found this on John's desk a few minutes ago.

If you hold it up to the light,

you'll be able to read the text

of one of Loretta Lee's columns.

Meaning?

Meaning that I suspect you'll find his fingerprints

all over the rest of them, too,

because they were all written by John Galloway

on his old manual typewriter.

You're kidding.

My resistance to change has finally caught up with me.

You've been Loretta Lee all along, haven't you?

For 25 years.

After the first Loretta left,

I covered for her for a few weeks

until Claire Hogan could take over as the new Loretta.

Claire looked the part, but she wasn't a writer,

so I just kept on doing it.

With Loretta screening the mail

and making public appearances.

The boss loved my work.

And so did I, or I'd have quit.

But I knew I'd be laughed out of the business

if anyone ever found out.

Every time I even thought of going public,

it just seemed more insurmountable.

So I've got you to thank for the cat.

Oh, damn. Staff meeting.

They moved it up a half an hour.

The time.

John, what was the name of the place

that repaired Loretta's hearing aid?

Nob Hill Hearing Center. Why?

I hope that they can explain a great deal

about what happened yesterday afternoon.

Lieutenant, may I use your phone?

Oh, wow. Sorry, Mrs. Fletcher.

Quite all right, Troy. You're just the person I was looking for.

Really? Well, I have a lot of stuff to deliver.

Well, it can wait.

But what can't wait is the truth.

According to John, Loretta's hearing aid

was ready to be picked up just after noon yesterday.

That's right. I went and got it and took it to Loretta.

But I'm told that you didn't come back here

to the office until after 4:00.

I... I had a lot of errands to run.

Troy, the woman at Nob Hill Hearing Center

says that you didn't sign for it until 3:30,

almost three hours after you left the newspaper office.

Mrs. Fletcher, I don't want to lose this job.

Now, I noticed that next door to the hearing aid center,

there's a movie theater showing an old film

that would probably be of great interest

to an aspiring young newspaperman--

All The President's Men.

I've been hearing about it for years.

I just thought I'd catch a few minutes of it,

and then the next thing I knew...

it was 3:30.

I ran out of there, I grabbed Loretta's hearing aid,

and I took it to her.

Is this going to help Mr. Galloway?

I think it will, Troy.

We'll know in a little while.

That phone, Nell, has the same number

that Loretta wrote down

alongside of Freddie Moore's obituary.

Now, that was the number that you called her from

yesterday afternoon, collect,

to her hotel room at 3:35.

Well, that must have been someone else.

You wanted to tell her something, didn't you...

Something very important?

I'm scared, Mrs. Fletcher.

I don't want to end up like Loretta.

I understand.

And I give you my word that you will be protected.

Nell, I don't think you want your friend Loretta

to have died in vain,

or for Freddie Moore to be denied the credit

for his accomplishments.

Ah, Mrs. Fletcher, have you got a moment?

Uh, look, Harry, if it's about my synopsis,

you'll have to wait till tomorrow.

Forget the synopsis. How would you like to be

part of the information superhighway?

I'm not sure that I understand.

I've just sold The Union,

at a considerable profit, I may add.

And I'm now the proud owner

of a satellite TV network.

Now, I think the launch pad murders

would make a first-class miniseries, starring that, uh--

I'll get back to you, Harry.

Right. Yeah, that tall actor...

Oh, hi, Mrs. Fletcher.

Um, listen, if you'd like to go to the award dinner,

I've got an extra ticket.

Thanks anyway, Alexis.

Okay. Well, better be getting over there.

I just...

Well, I wish it were under happier circumstances.

Wish me luck.

I read your series. It's very good,

but I'm afraid you're going to need a lot more than luck.

What do you mean?

I mean that you murdered Loretta Lee.

Jessica, I can see

why you get the big bucks for your fiction,

but your facts need a lot of work.

It's the facts that tripped you up, Alexis.

You told me and the police

that you'd finished interviewing Loretta

in the hotel room by 2:30.

That's right, I did.

No, you couldn't have.

In the restaurant yesterday evening, John questioned you

about how your story on Loretta was going.

- Alexis. - Hi.

- How's your Loretta story going? - Done.

I just finished plugging in my interview with her.

His Lordship's going to adore it.

Did she ever get her hearing aid?

I guess so. She was fine.

The fact is that if you had interviewed her

when you said you did, you'd have been very aware

that she didn't have her hearing aid,

because you'd have had to shout to make yourself heard.

So I got the time wrong. That doesn't make me a murderer.

Oh, but it does. In order for you to have had

a normal conversation with her,

you had to have been there after 3:30,

after Troy delivered her hearing aid.

And after a phone call, Miss Hill,

From Loretta Lee to your desk at 3:40 p.m. yesterday.

That's ridiculous. She called me

to amend something she'd said in the interview. That's all it was.

No, Alexis. She phoned you

right after a homeless woman named Nell

notified her from a pay phone in the park

that she had these...

The few remaining pages

from the late Freddie Moore's journals

about his life as a homeless person.

The journals you stole from him

while he was in the hospital dying,

and then passed them off as your own,

turning them into your series on the homeless.

And then you probably destroyed Mr. Moore's original manuscript.

That's a lie.

Freddie's style in these pages

is identical to the style

in which your series was written.

I...

I pleaded with her,

but she insisted I admit everything,

that her concern was John Galloway's reputation,

and she wasn't going to let me spoil it.

She threatened to tell everyone.

I panicked.

And then you decided to frame John Galloway

by scratching that message into the tabletop.

Do you have any idea what it's like to wake up every morning

wondering if this'll be the day

they finally realize you have no talent?

They were good, Freddie's diaries.

They were beautiful,

the stuff real journalism is made of.

Murrow, Kuralt, Pyle.

Writing I'd never be capable of in a thousand years.

And what good was that going to do

for a John Doe in Potter's field?

The sale of the newspaper fell through,

and Harry Mordecai's allowing a few of us

to buy up The San Francisco Union,

with lots of time to pay for it.

Oh, John, what an exciting challenge.

I have so much to thank you for, Jessica.

Mm-mm. Loretta was your guardian angel, not me.

She didn't want anyone to sully your character.

Not Max, not Alexis.

What about a new Loretta?

Well, since I'm now editor-in-chief,

I think it's about time I gave that up.

Maybe what we need is a new team,

like Loretta and me.

They should be able to handle it, don't you think?

Now, that just might be

the inspiration of your lifetime.