Original subtitles

Tonight, on Murder, She Wrote.

This is a subpoena to appear

before the Federal Grand Jury.

If Mrs. Fletcher calls again,

would you please get in touch with me?

Well, first of all, she’s got to catch me.

Are you trying to give me a stroke?

Paige has a right to be afraid.

Three words come to mind--

Shredding, erasing and speed.

Would either of you have seen a woman

by the name of Jessica Fletcher?

What’s going on, Mr. Logan, is murder.

But I’ve never met the President of the United States.

You are in contempt of this Federal Grand Jury.

Was kidnapping my father your errand?

If this is a crisis meeting,

why isn’t Doug Fremont here?

He said he had an appointment out of the office.

Figures. In business school, Doug was voted

"most likely to bail at the first sign of trouble."

Now, what trouble? We are a respected company.

We may have overlooked a couple of regulations.

- It happens all the time. - Be sure to tell that

to the securities and exchange commission.

No, I’m afraid this is about certain irregularities

with many of our mutual funds.

Mason, you never sugarcoat the facts.

Where do we stand?

On the deck of the Titanic,

rapidly approaching a very large iceberg.

Take your pick. Insider trades,

improper filings, unlawful margins, fraud...

And if they start asking the right questions,

somebody is gonna have to go down with the ship.

Our attorneys should be here now. Where are they?

Well, I suspect they’re conferring with their attorneys.

Oh, come on, please.

Excuse me, but I’ve got this distinct feeling

that our CEO is trying to avoid biting the bullet.

What about it, Paige? Come on.

Reed, Reed, wait a minute.

Paige has a right to be afraid. So have I.

Neither of us have enough time left

to spend any of it behind bars.

Jail? You’re serious.

The Grand Jury is serious.

But as Board Chairman, I give you my assurance

that Logan Investment Services

will devote whatever resources are necessary to...

to protect all of us.

There’s nothing to worry about.

Dad, I hate to interrupt.

You got a call from my friend?

Yeah, the Feds are gonna be here in about five minutes.

I have a freight elevator waiting.

Um...

Damn, I didn’t think it would be this quick.

Well, gentlemen and ladies,

while I don’t wish to be quoted on this,

three words come to mind--

Shredding, erasing and speed.

I also suggest we all take the rest of the day off.

You know, when I was a kid in the numbers racket,

and the cops pulled a raid,

I used to just swallow the slips.

Unfortunately, life has gotten more complicated.

Spread out and check all the offices.

Be firm, but polite with the secretaries.

I may need them as witnesses.

Miss, I’m Assistant US Attorney, Annette Rayburn.

What’s your job with Logan Investment Services?

I’m Vice President. Tiffany Beckman.

Good, then you’ll want to see this warrant.

It enables me to conduct a search of all files,

computer disks,

and hard copy relating to all

past and present securities trading by this company.

Tell Mason Logan I want to see him.

Mr. Logan isn’t in.

Perhaps you’d like to come back tomorrow, or the next day.

Careful, sweetie.

I can have you whimpering in a paddy wagon

before you can spell swindle.

Now, you go tell your CEo

that the ax just fell on his neck by default.

Great.

The raid is in progress at this minute

in the Wall Street offices of Logan Investment Services.

It has been learned that Douglas Fremont,

an Executive Vice President of Logan Investment Services,

who was scheduled to appear before a Grand Jury,

has fled to Argentina.

Stay tuned for further...

Hello?

Yes, hello. This is Jessica Fletcher.

I just heard some unsettling news on the television

and I have a question about some mutual fund shares

that I recently purchased through Douglas Fremont.

Ma’am, this is a US marshal.

Everyone is busy right now.

I suggest you call your lawyer and get in line

to sue the pants off this bunch of crooks.

Thank you.

Duffy, I don’t remember inviting the press.

I saw your motorcade arrive.

Care to give me a statement about...

- Out. Now. - Wait a minute.

You, as Federal Prosecutor,

are supposed to uphold the public’s right to...

Officer, if he’s not out in 20 seconds,

throw him out.

- Did you get it? - Get what?

The Hong Kong file, of course.

Did you think I wouldn’t know why you went back?

This can make us very, very rich. Are you with me, babe?

All the way. Just don’t call me babe.

- Mr. Corbin. - Hmm?

I was so hoping I’d run into you.

Do you have time for a few questions?

Well, as a matter of fact, miss...

- Ms. Rayburn. - Rayburn.

I have an appointment that I’m already late for.

Well, then, please accept this with my compliments.

It’s a subpoena to appear before the Federal Grand Jury.

You’ll find it’s all in order.

Your advice of rights and so forth.

And I’d also appreciate

having a look at the contents of your briefcase.

Just a minute.

I’m just as shocked by these allegations as anyone,

and I have nothing to hide.

But until I’ve had the opportunity to conduct my own inquiry,

I don’t see how I can be of any use to you

and your investigation.

Ms. Rayburn?

You don’t get it, do you, Mr. Corbin?

When your Chairman of the Board, Mason Logan left,

you became the designated goat.

Mason Logan is my friend.

Really? Well, wouldn’t a friend have left room for you

in his stretch limo?

The office is closed today.

I’m sure Mason will be in his office tomorrow.

- Just like Douglas Fremont. - What are you talking about?

I spoke to his wife.

He left in the middle of the night without even saying goodbye to her.

She thinks Mason Logan scared him away.

That’s nonsense. Logan and I go back 30 years.

Yes, and he’s counting on your loyalty, Mr. Corbin.

He’s hoping that you’ll take your silence

to prison with you to protect a friend.

Now, wouldn’t that be foolish if you could save yourself?

Shall we talk?

- Lou, please come in. - Thank you.

I’m really sorry to bother a busy lawyer with this,

but it is so frustrating not to get an answer.

- Please, sit down. - Thank you.

Apparently there’s nobody home today

at Logan Investment Services.

But I did find out enough

to make me glad that I’m not a customer,

and sorry that you are.

How much are you in for, Jessica?

Well, only the price of a few shares

in the Pacific Rim mutual fund.

I bought them for my grand-niece’s birthday.

That’s a shame.

I had given her this pep talk about investing,

and how it drives the economy, and she was thrilled.

And now, as I understand, the shares are worthless.

It’s looking that way.

I doubt I can get your money back, but I’ll put in for it.

There anything else?

What am I going to tell that little girl?

Back on the juice again, dad?

Am I having a drink?

Yes!

And I assume that means that your little visit is over.

You come home for 60 minutes,

spend 58 of them upstairs in your old room,

picking out a dress.

Why do you keep your clothes here?

I’ve told you, I have a very small closet,

and I can’t fit all my clothes in it.

Now, what shall we talk about? Your business?

No, no, I’ve already heard about that on the news,

and so have all the other teachers in the school,

not to mention the parents of my students.

You teach a bunch of little hoodlums.

No, I teach a bunch of kids so they don’t become hoodlums.

Or even white-collar criminals.

Nice talking to you, dad.

Maria, I’ve been thinking, you’d be better off if I cut you loose.

Give me your key back.

My key?

You don’t need it. You’ve got your own place.

Thank you.

You won’t have to deal with me anymore.

You think that’s why I’m doing this?

Take the rest of your clothes with you.

Give them to the Salvation Army.

Bye, baby.

At least you’re out of this.

Paige, this is a wild guess.

You’re drunk.

I’m just trying to find out who my friends are.

You don’t leave a friend to take the rap, Mason.

They can find me any time with no trouble at all.

They’re saving me for last, for dessert.

They’re making their case on what you told them.

I swear to God! I haven’t told them anything.

They’re going to force me to testify. What can I do, Mason?

My lawyers are working on it.

It’s a dream of a defense team.

They’re building a paper wall around us.

So don’t you go off the deep end.

You and I know they’re going to ask me about Hong Kong.

I think our foreign partners would take a very dim view

of anything you might reveal about that.

You’d stay a lot healthier if you just did some time in Lexington.

Are you trying to give me a stroke?

No, I’m trying to talk some sense into you,

because there’s no way that Grand Jury or the SCC,

or anybody else who can hurt us, knows about Hong Kong,

so you just keep your mouth shut,

and you stay off the bottle.

I’ll get you out of this, Paige, I promise.

Yeah.

How could he throw you out when you don’t live at home?

All I know is, I suddenly felt like an orphan

instead of only half an orphan.

Hello?

That little job? It’s become a necessity.

I told you it would.

He’ll be at the townhouse.

I understand. I’ll take care of it.

I’m sorry, honey. I’m gonna have to winkle out on you.

- I’ve got an errand to run. - Oh. How about later?

I don’t know how long it’s gonna be.

It’s okay, I’ll be awake.

You’ve got an early class in the morning.

- I said I’ll be awake. - I’ll be there.

Uncle Paige, it’s Nick.

Damn!

Come on, Paige, I know you’re in there.

Uncle Paige?

Come on, Paige, open the door. I’m here to help.

Hello?

Hello?

I just thought you’d like to know

the Attorney General is hopping mad.

Why? Because of my little excursion into the marketplace?

No, the big emotional outburst

came with the news of your star witness’ disappearance.

Douglas Fremont’s extradition from South America

is already underway.

Good luck. Besides, that’s old news.

I’m talking about his replacement, Paige Corbin.

Well, I’m waiting for the punch line, Johnny.

I can’t believe you haven’t heard yet.

Corbin vanished from his townhouse last night.

Are you so terrifying to your staff

they don’t tell you anything?

Don’t be ridiculous.

No, Annette, I don’t think I need to remind you,

- but I will because I care. - Oh, give me a break, Johnny.

Fremont or no, Mason Logan will buy his way out of anything.

So what it comes to is, without Corbin, you’ve got no case,

followed very shortly by no career, unless...

Unless I decide to cut my losses

and settle for middle-management fish.

Annette, you know very well

there’s always a big downside potential,

taking on these heavyweights.

Johnny, that’s a game I decided to play a long time ago.

I’ll take my chances.

Now, don’t you have somewhere else to go?

On behalf of the police charities fund,

J.B. Fletcher will be signing her latest novel

in the second floor squad room.

Oh, thank you, Mrs. Fletcher.

My grandmother will be thrilled.

She’s been reading your books since she was a little girl.

How nice, sergeant.

My great-great-grandpa used to read your books

in front of a fireplace with Abraham Lincoln.

How are you doing, Jessica?

I’m holding up, Shawn.

Oh, make it out to Maggie, please.

Okay.

Oh, I’m afraid that’s me.

Riley. What have you got?

Okay, ten minutes.

Well, I got to go to work.

Another Grand Jury witness vanished last night.

Guy named Corbin.

Logan Investment Services?

Yeah. Apparently someone broke into his townhouse

and hauled him off.

Well, give my regards to Maggie.

I will. She’s gonna love this. Thank you.

Uh, could you make that out,

"To Bill Morgan, I forgive you."

That’s an unusual inscription. Why do you need forgiving?

For this, ma’am. See, I’m a US marshal,

and this is a subpoena to appear before the Federal Grand Jury.

Oh, thanks for the autograph.

Jessica, I made a discreet inquiry

into the Grand Jury’s agenda,

and was struck by a coincidence.

They’re looking into the ransacking

of Logan Investment Services mutual funds.

Now, has anyone there returned your calls?

Well, only a recorded voice

saying that due to the number of clients

who have been calling,

it might be a few days before they get back to me.

Now, about this subpoena,

all I did was to buy some stocks for a ten-year-old girl.

Now, why should they want me to testify?

I have no idea, Jessica, but I have to warn you,

the prosecutor, Annette Rayburn,

is a very methodical, determined lady.

One tough cookie.

Apparently you know her quite well.

Actually, we were very close in law school.

When we broke up,

I had what would have been our engagement ring in my pocket.

Now we merely nod politely in courthouse corridors.

Oh, my. And I was just about to ask

if you could approach her personally and explain

that I have almost nothing to do

with that dreadful company.

Why don’t I give it a try?

My love story always did need an ending.

This might be it. I’ll call you later.

Okay.

Where is he, Nick? What did you do with him?

Me? What is the matter with you?

The police say he’s been missing since last night.

Somebody broke his door down.

You left me last night to run an errand.

I waited up for you till 4:00 a.m.

you never showed up, you never called.

Was that it, Nick?

Was kidnapping my father your errand,

and then you couldn’t face me?

Not 24 hours ago, you were telling me

you never wanted to see him again.

Well, I guess I care, okay?

Tell me where he is.

Look, for now, it’s better if you don’t know.

Trust me.

Annette, can I have a moment?

Why, Lou, I can’t believe this.

Strange, isn’t it? Seems like we’re in a time warp.

Fifteen years wiped out.

Not that you haven’t done well, you have. Congratulations.

Well, you look like you’re doing all right. You married?

No, I could never find a lady with the right-sized finger.

You still knock me out, Annie.

You are the only person who ever called me Annie.

I assume you’re here on business.

A client who is also a friend. Jessica Fletcher.

She was served with one of your subpoenas,

and she can’t imagine why.

She doesn’t have to know why; she just has to be there.

For old time’s sake, how about telling me why.

For the same reason we broke up, Lou,

because I wanted it to happen.

I thought we broke up because you were afraid to be happy.

Goodbye, Lou. I am very busy.

I’m sorry I spoiled your morning.

Maybe I’ll see you again in another 15 years, Annette.

Mrs. Fletcher, how many mystery novels have you written?

My 23rd was published this week.

That’s very impressive.

It must be difficult to come up with new stories.

Well, sometimes.

I mean, I’m always meeting people

who are eager to share their mystery ideas with me.

Is that why Paige Corbin telephoned you

the night he disappeared?

To share an idea for a mystery?

No, I mean...

Why did he call you?

He didn’t.

I don’t know Paige Corbin.

This is a telephone company log of the phone calls

that Paige Corbin made that night.

The final call was at 9:42 p.m.

it is to a Manhattan number.

Mrs. Fletcher, do you recognize this number?

It’s my number, yes. But...

Yes. Let the record show that the number is

area code 2-1-2-1-2-4-7-1-9-9.

Why did Paige Corbin call you, Mrs. Fletcher?

I have no idea, Ms. Rayburn.

I didn’t know the man,

and I’m sure that the phone company log is mistaken.

Here is a partial list of customers

for Logan Investment Services in New York.

Would you please read the second name on the list

so that the jury can hear you?

Jessica Fletcher.

Do you still insist that you do not know Paige Corbin?

I also own government bonds,

but I’ve never met the President of the United States.

And do you still deny

that you received a phone call that night at 9:42 p.m.?

Wait, there was a call.

I’d been working late with an editor,

and I stopped at an all-night grocery.

The phone was ringing when I got home.

I answered it just as the caller hung up.

Doesn’t that record show that the call ended immediately?

Yes, it does.

For the record, its duration was eight seconds.

So, I never spoke to the man.

Mrs. Fletcher, as I’m sure you know, Paige Corbin is missing.

Possibly the victim of foul play.

He is also a material witness

in a federal investigation of massive proportions.

As a student of mystery writing,

are you aware of the device wherein a phone caller,

in order to send a signal,

hangs up on the other party as soon as they answer?

Yes. Yes, of course I am, but...

Mrs. Fletcher, you have one last chance

to answer this question truthfully.

If you do not, you will be charged with contempt.

Think carefully before you answer.

Paige Corbin called your telephone number that night.

We know this for a fact.

We have proof.

Why did he call you?

What message was he conveying by doing so?

Look, I don’t know how many ways I can tell you

that I don’t know, and frankly, at this point,

I’m tempted to take the fifth amendment and refuse to answer.

It’s too late for that. You have already waived that privilege

by answering the other questions.

Mrs. Fletcher, I am ordering you to answer.

There’s nothing I can say.

Very well.

You are in contempt of this Federal Grand Jury.

I am sending you to Judge Morrison

for a contempt hearing,

at which time, you may or may not decide to cooperate.

It looks like Paige Corbin skipped town.

Leaving us stuck with Grand Jury subpoenas.

Well, he could be under wraps.

With his dear old friend protecting him.

Or he could be hiding from that friend

who wants him deader than road-kill.

Or he could be dead already.

Reed, what will we tell the Grand Jury?

That our CEO and our Board Chairman

kept us out of the loop?

Exactly, and then we’re off the hook.

Listen, if Mason Logan

was that frightened to have his buddy killed,

then the Hong Kong files are gonna be worth

a lot more to him than we thought.

Here’s to more.

I see you’re admiring my photography. I’m Ted Duffy.

Who cares?

I’ve got some others you might prefer.

I think I captured the moment quite nicely, don’t you?

You were there at Mason’s office.

Uh-huh.

All right, so you took my picture. Big deal.

It enlarged really well. I’m so proud.

Oh, my God! We can’t let anyone see these.

That’s the general idea.

Well, you can keep those as a souvenir.

The negatives are on sale for $10,000.

No, wait, wait, wait. Only ten?

How would you like 50,000?

I’m as greedy as the next guy. Spell it out.

Use your street rat connections to locate Paige Corbin

before the police and feds find him.

What are you gonna do, squeeze him along with Mason Logan?

Well, that’s my business.

But don’t worry, you’ll get your story,

and some walking-around cash.

For that kind of cash, I’ll find Jimmy Hoffa.

Lou, you are a magician. How in the world...

it was nothing, Jessica.

First, I summoned all the legal skills

in my command,

and then I took another look at your subpoena,

and I realized it was invalid because they neglected

to include the required advice of rights.

It’s a little form

the department of justice insists that they provide.

It tells you things like the fact

that if you get asked a tough question,

they have to let you step outside the Grand Jury room

to confer with your attorney. Things like that.

I mean, that would have been such a big help.

Anyway, thank you.

And thank heaven that nightmare is over.

Don’t be too sure.

If I know Annette Rayburn, you can expect to be served again,

and this time, she’ll get it right.

You mean, I’ll find myself in the same catch-22?

Lou, what is her problem?

You have to understand.

What makes her such a tenacious prosecutor

is that it’s all so personal to her,

like she’s on a mission to nail the world’s bad guys.

- As long as I’ve known her. - Oh, and she’s convinced

that I’m one of them. Well, I don’t think so.

What do you mean?

Well, first of all, she’s got to catch me.

And in the meantime, I’m just going to have to find out

why Paige Corbin phoned my number.

It’s amazing. They fixed the door already.

I’ve been waiting six months for my landlord

to replace the float in my toilet tank.

Where was Mr. Corbin when he dialed my phone number?

In here.

The phone’s on the desk.

Hmm. I wonder if my phone number is in here.

Uh, excuse me.

May I help you?

Lieutenant Riley, I’m Annette Rayburn, Assistant District Attorney.

Your office told me that 45 minutes ago,

you got a call from J.B. Fletcher.

That’s right. We met for coffee.

They also told me that you’re friends.

Did she happen to mention that we’re trying to find her

to serve her with a summons to appear before the Grand Jury?

- Another one? - Don’t con me, lieutenant.

She’s avoiding my people.

Do you know where she is?

Not at the moment, no.

Now look, Ms. Rayburn, I’m right in the middle of something here, so...

Lieutenant, you could get into a lot of trouble

lying to a federal prosecutor.

Tell me.

Now, look, you want us to find this Corbin guy, don’t you?

If Mrs. Fletcher calls again,

would you please get in touch with me?

Absolutely.

I did not lie.

From where I was at that moment,

I didn’t know where you were exactly.

Well, I appreciate it, Shawn.

Look, I think that this may explain

how Mr. Corbin happened to call me.

Look, the first four digits of this emergency number are the same as mine.

1-2-4-7.

And this card has my last three numbers, 1-9-9.

That’s it.

Wait a minute. Am I missing something?

Suppose the noise at the door

distracted Paige Corbin while he was looking up

the number that he wanted to call.

He dialed the first four numbers on this card,

then turned toward the noise,

unaware that the wheel moved and the next card dropped.

He finished dialing the last three numbers

of the second card.

Well, son of a gun! Then you were a wrong number.

Now we need to find out who he was calling.

May I take a message?

Hold, please.

It seems to be an answering service.

Yes, ma’am.

Can you tell me whose number I’ve reached?

No, I can’t.

Well, what’s the name of your service?

Got The Message. Ma’am, would you like to leave a message?

Thank you, no.

Got the Message.

I’ll get a warrant and search their records.

But that still leaves us without a clue

as to what happened to Corbin.

Or who figured to profit from his disappearance.

You said that his daughter, Maria, wasn’t much help.

Nada. On top of which, she’s going with the son

of Logan Investment Services Board Chairman, Mason Logan.

She wouldn’t even tell us how to find him.

Name’s Nick.

Oh, here, got the old man.

Soho Storage. That’s strange.

I mean, Soho Storage should be among the s’s, not the l’s.

Unless...

Soho Storage stands for Logan.

Somebody slept here.

Well, there’s no one here now.

I’m afraid that’s not true.

You looking for me?

Who are you? What is going on?

What’s going on, Mr. Logan, is murder.

The last time I saw him alive was when I went out for lunch.

- Where did you eat? - Who cares where he ate?

Somebody might remember seeing him.

- It doesn’t matter where he ate. - Okay.

You went to his townhouse last night to kidnap him.

He puts up a fight...

No. I went there to try to talk him into coming with me.

He got scared, he wouldn’t open his door.

Look, his bags were already packed.

That adds up.

We checked the call he made before he phoned Mrs. Fletcher.

It was to a limousine service, to take him to JFK.

Has the Fletcher woman called you since we spoke?

No. Where were you gonna take him?

Here for a day or so, then out of the country.

To protect your father from prosecution.

Are you also willing to go to prison for him?

I don’t think I’m going to answer any more questions.

You will when I bring you in front of the Grand Jury.

In the meantime, pal,

you’re under arrest for suspicion of murder.

Oh, come on. Now, if I wanted to murder the man,

why would I feed him and put him up for the night?

Can anybody tell me that? And why would I have come back here?

It was you, wasn’t it?

You killed my father, or had your own son do it for you.

Maria, Paige and I, we were friends...

Save it, all right?

You’d set him up to take the fall.

Then he changed his mind, and that meant he had to die,

and now you’re protecting Nick.

You don’t understand, but, look,

I’ve got to go, so if you’ll excuse me...

Not before we’ve had a chance to talk, Mr. Logan.

My name is Jessica Fletcher.

You’re Paige Corbin’s daughter, aren’t you?

I saw your picture in his townhouse.

- I’m sorry about what happened. - Thank you.

Shortly before he left the townhouse, or was abducted,

he inadvertently dialed my phone number.

Now, the number that he intended to call was 1-2-4-7-5-2-3.

It’s an answering service called "Got The Message."

He was trying to leave a message for someone?

Mmm-hmm.

I don’t know, either, Mrs. Fletcher.

Look, I apologize for any inconvenience

all this has caused you,

but now, if you will excuse me...

Not yet, Mr. Logan.

Look, I have been subpoenaed, jailed.

I’m currently evading a process server,

and a federal prosecutor is convinced

that I am part of a criminal conspiracy,

and now, there’s been a murder,

in which your son happens to be a suspect.

I’m not leaving until I get answers.

Yes, ma’am, as you wish.

I went into some old newspaper files

on internet this afternoon.

About 30 years ago, the SCC was investigating

you and your company

for illegally dipping into customer accounts.

- You? - That investigation was dropped.

Why don’t you tell Maria why?

The SCC agent in charge

was killed in a terrible automobile accident.

His car caught fire.

All the notes on the case went up in flames.

Along with their spurious case against me.

But now, what does any of this got to do

with Paige Corbin’s murder, anyway?

Well, that’s what I’m here to ask you, Mr. Logan.

All I know is, now they’re coming after us again,

and it’s cost me the life of the best friend I’ve ever had.

Now, does that answer your question?

I’m not sure, Mr. Logan. But thank you.

Excuse me. Yes?

Mr. Logan, there’s a US marshal

coming in to see you.

Okay, Mr. Logan,

I’m placing you under arrest on this bench warrant,

for failure to appear before a Federal Grand Jury hearing.

Oh, Marshal, I’m afraid I’m not gonna be able to go with you,

because, as my attorney

is no doubt making clear to Ms. Rayburn as we speak,

I’m due to check in at university hospital in...

Oh, my goodness!

In 20 minutes for spinal surgery first thing tomorrow,

and I suspect it’ll probably be a waste of time, but...

All right, all right, all right. I’ll check with the office.

Listen, would either of you have seen a woman

by the name of Jessica Fletcher?

All right, Duffy.

All right.

Before Reed gets here, this is what it’s about.

He offered you $50,000

for the negatives and the information.

- Right. - I’ll double it

if you bring me the Hong Kong disk.

Me take it off Reed?

What’s on it? No, wait, don’t tell me.

Secret accounts in Far East banks

where Corbin and Logan kept their illicit gain.

In the right hands, my hands, power.

That kind of power must be worth a lot to you.

We can talk about that later, at my place.

Sorry, babe.

Is my take on you wrong?

Not at all. It’s just that Reed is a very dangerous man.

The late Paige Corbin is proof of that.

Funny. I thought you might have been responsible.

Or it could have been you,

which is an even better reason not to play your little game.

What a delicious sense of humor.

Reed, darling, Duffy’s been entertaining me.

You wouldn’t be hitting on my woman, now,

would you, Duff?

The thought never entered my mind, Reed.

And what kind of day have you been having, darling?

So far, lousy. I’ve lost a good friend.

But if Mason Logan survives his surgery,

well, the rest of the week promises to be very rewarding.

Here’s to Hong Kong.

Look, it’s not my decision. I’m just the messenger.

Washington wants the plug pulled on this as of now.

Johnny, no. I’m getting close.

I know I’ll be able to indict before this is over.

Indict who? They figure with Corbin dead and Logan iffy,

you’ve got no one to prosecute, Annette.

They don’t want egg on their faces.

Listen, I have all the middle-management people

under subpoena, just like Washington wanted.

Reed Harding, Tiffany Beckman, three or four more.

What about the novelist, that Fletcher woman?

Well, we still haven’t caught up with her.

But when we do, she’s going to sit in a cell

until she tells me the truth.

Johnny, please.

These people are crooks! They’re going to walk unless...

Look, I need your help. 24 hours.

Okay. Okay, but that’s my limit.

I’m not going to fall on my sword for you, Annette.

Thanks, Johnny.

Traffic detail said

they didn’t keep very complete accident records

that far back, except that they know it was unsolved.

But I remembered that you mentioned

that the car had burned,

so I got in touch with the fire department.

Well, that was brilliant, Shawn.

Well, we hope.

Jessica, what is it?

Well, the fire boss’s report indicates that the SCC agent,

James Holland, was killed

when his car was struck by a hit-and-run driver.

And there was an eyewitness,

his ten-year-old daughter, Carla.

Which leaves us where?

"We found this in the James Holland file.

Based on the kid’s description of the hit-and-run driver."

But I still don’t see what this has got to do

with the murder of Annette Rayburn’s star witness,

or your hassles with her Grand Jury.

Star witness. May I use your phone?

When I’m finished,

I think we should take a quick trip to the murder scene.

Annette.

Lou, save it. We have nothing to talk about.

Jessica Fletcher would like me to tell you

that she’s sorry if...

Well, you can tell her that I do not accept her apology.

Oh, and actually, there is something.

Didn’t you used to represent Mason Logan and Paige Corbin?

A long time ago, yes.

They were clients of the firm I worked for when I first passed the bar. Why?

It proves to me we never could have had anything in common.

You know what?

If I had given you a ring, I’d want it back.

Hello, Marshal Morgan. Anything for me?

Mrs. Fletcher, where the hell have you been?

Looking all over for you.

Oh, I’m not gonna fall for that one.

Thank you.

As my mother used to say,

you can’t see the show without a ticket.

Ladies and gentlemen,

Mrs. Fletcher has returned of her own volition

to complete her testimony.

The contempt charge was dismissed with my approval.

This Grand Jury has no wish to reward cooperation

with punitive measures.

Are you ready to begin?

When you were on the stand before,

I asked you about the telephone call

you received from Paige Corbin.

And I told you that I never spoke to him.

- Would you care to try again? - But if I can prove it?

Mrs. Fletcher, are you shopping for a new contempt charge?

Oh, heavens, no!

Before you reward me with another punitive measure,

may I remind you that there was a witness?

Nick Logan was with Paige Corbin

when he hung up the phone without speaking.

Yes, and may I remind you

that Nick Logan is an alleged murderer?

We do seem to cross swords, don’t we?

Look, to avoid any further misunderstanding,

I’d like to make myself clear to the Grand Jury.

Mrs. Fletcher...

unless you answer my questions...

this Grand Jury will not be interested

in anything that you have to say.

Maybe you’ve forgotten, Ms. Rayburn,

they call it a hearing.

What is lieutenant Riley doing here?

I do not remember inviting a policeman into my jury room.

I suggest you continue with the witness.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Thank you.

This is a fax of June 2nd, 1966,

an early edition of The New York Sentinel.

Mrs. Fletcher, we are examining current criminal activities,

not excavating ancient history.

James Holland, 33,

a securities and exchange commission agent,

was on his way to pick up his ten-year-old daughter, Carla,

at school yesterday afternoon.

The little girl saw his car side-swiped and run off the road

by a hit-and-run driver.

Mr. Holland’s car collided with an abutment.

He was killed instantly. The car burst into flames.

The newspaper left out Carla Holland’s middle name.

Annette.

Rayburn was her mother’s maiden name.

- You were that little girl. - Mrs. Fletcher...

James Holland was your father.

He’d been investigating a stockbroker named Mason Logan.

You were horrified, and so frightened.

You saw the driver of the other car.

It was two days before you could bring yourself

to describe him to a police sketch artist,

but he drew this.

The man who killed your father was never caught.

But the incident marked you, and 30 years later,

just a few days ago, you saw the man in the flesh.

It was Paige Corbin, and you killed him.

Madam Foreman, this witness is excused.

A little while ago, when I saw the sketch

that the police had made

from your description of the killer 30 years ago,

I realized that it resembled Paige Corbin.

And when lieutenant Riley referred to Mr. Corbin

as your star witness, it reminded me of

something that I’d noticed at the murder scene,

but I hadn’t thought much about.

Something on the desk,

amid the paper clips and the rubber bands.

A tiny gold star

that matches the one in your right ear,

and is missing from your left.

This one...

which you lost when you murdered Mr. Corbin.

That’s ridiculous. I must have lost it

when I met lieutenant Riley at the murder scene.

That’s not true, Ms. Rayburn.

This crime scene photo happened to have been snapped

at the moment you entered Nick Logan’s warehouse office.

As you can see, the little star wasn’t in your ear.

When I saw Paige Corbin, yesterday, I was stunned.

Suddenly, there I was,

face-to-face with the cause of all my nightmares.

But you had provided Mr. Corbin

with a number where he could reach you,

an answering service

to which you subscribed under the name of John Smith.

The number he was trying to call

when he accidentally reached mine instead.

Yes, but that night, I went to confront him.

I saw that the door had been kicked in and he was gone.

Spirited away by Nick Logan.

But early this morning, he called the service.

He said that he was afraid.

He said that he wanted to testify against Mason Logan

in exchange for immunity from prosecution.

I said that that would be no problem.

I mean, my father had been investigating

Mason Logan for years.

I told him that he would be picked up

and placed in protective custody.

Then he gave me the number of the warehouse and the address.

So, I decided to go myself to pick him up.

Oh, I just wanted him to admit it.

I just wanted him to admit what he did to my father.

But he didn’t.

He denied it.

He... he laughed.

I saw the letter opener on the desk, and suddenly, I...

I just... I just wanted him to feel a little bit

of what I’d been feeling all those years.

Lieutenant Riley, will you do the honors?

Of course.

Excuse me, Ms. Rayburn, I’m Reed Harding.

I’d like to make a deal.

This computer disk has all that you’ll need to nail your case

against Logan Investment Services.

It’s yours in exchange for my immunity.

Lieutenant, since I’m no longer in a position

to bargain with this man, he’s your prisoner.

Prisoner? What are you...

I believe you have a point there, Ms. Rayburn.

Shell, cuff this guy.

Oh, no, no! You can’t do this! Stop!

Can I get a smile, please?

Good news, Jessica.

Mason Logan’s surgery was a huge success.

Great.

He’ll be able to face a judge after all. And Nick Logan?

Well, he’s got plenty of explaining to do

before he and Maria Corbin can get their lives back together.

- Mmm-hmm. - Can I buy you lunch?

Oh, thanks, but I’m already a week behind

on an important deadline.

Oh, no!

Not to worry, Mrs. Fletcher.

You forgot your reading glasses down at the courthouse.