Original subtitles

You expect me to go in there and seduce Dennis Stanton?

I expect Lindsey to go and seduce him.

It had something to do with adultery, didn't it?

I beg your pardon?

Tonight on Murder She Wrote.

Fire!

Somebody get a fire extinguisher!

I'm sure you have an alibi for when the fire started.

Oh, and which will disappoint you more, if I do or if I don't?

But he couldn't forge the paper.

Miss Barlow, are you flirting with me?

Would it upset you if I were?

On the contrary.

But it would lead me to wonder how soon you expect your mother back home.

Mrs. Fletcher, could you please inscribe this to Nadine?

I just love this new character you've invented.

Why, thank you.

No, really.

Damien Sinclair is a wonderful new addition

to that roster of gentlemen thieves.

Arsene Lupin, Raffles, The Saint.

Praise is a giddy wine, dear heart. Don't let it turn your head.

Dennis!

Jessica.

Yes, your new character is amusing, perhaps,

but a pale imitation of the real thing,

and I, of all people, should know.

Now, Jessica, I've booked at a fantastic restaurant in Carmel.

They won't hold the table.

Oh, but I can't. I've got all these books to sign, Dennis.

Not anymore you don't. No, no.

It's past 6:00.

Manager's at the door, key in hand.

Time to get on with civilized pursuits.

Thank you, Nadine. I hope you enjoy the book.

Oh, thank you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Pleasure.

Nice to meet you, to be sure.

Well, book tours agree with you, Jessica.

- You're as lovely as ever. - Uh-oh.

Whenever you start to flirt, it usually means

that you have some outrageous story to tell me.

Well, of course.

And what makes this one so interesting

is that you could never transmute the hero of it,

me, into that grotesque alter ego, Damien Sinclair.

Oh, why not?

Because I let the miscreants get away scot-free.

Now, your Damien Sinclair could never do anything so un-heroic.

Oh, it did my larcenous heart good.

You mean, your formerly larcenous heart, I hope you meant.

Aha, here we are!

Oh, yes, yes.

The recently discovered Mark Twain.

- But I'd heard-- - That it's been denounced as a forgery?

How well I know. It was I who denounced it.

Oh, now I remember.

Of course, an insurance policy was involved,

and the original manuscript was destroyed.

Oh, Jessica, whose story is this anyway?

Come on, I'll tell you all about it over a Caesar salad.

Now, most of us know Mark Twain as a kind of white-haired patriarch.

But it's important to remember as well that in his youth,

he was a real ladies man.

He wrote The Wild and Wicked Wench,

had it bound as a kind of private amusement for his mistress.

She passed the book down to Mrs. Barlow's grandmother,

who, some people think, was Mark Twain's illegitimate daughter.

And from there, it's come down to us and the present day.

Um, I finally persuaded Mrs. Barlow to reveal its existence.

Why now, Mr. Erlich?

San Francisco, next week,

plays host to the largest collection

of Twain experts and enthusiasts

in over a decade.

And finally, Mrs. Barlow

has suffered a series of unfortunate financial reverses,

and I've offered to help her realize what's due her

as custodian of this important national literary treasure.

Has anybody checked out this book to make sure that it's not some forgery?

Well, no offense,

but, obviously, literature, rare books, are not your beat.

Otherwise, I'm sure you'd recognize Professor Chandler Fitzpatrick.

He's the country's leading expert

on 19th and 20th century American literature.

I'm sure Professor Fitzpatrick would be able to answer any questions

that you'll have about the book's authenticity or its provenance.

The Pachelbel Canon.

In deep appreciation for your help with the Eastmans' case.

Well, thank you.

But how are we going to hear it without your CD player?

What's happened to my CD player?

Verboten.

Der führer, Herr Butler, likes to make his own noise.

He's been screaming for you all morning.

What is he up to now?

They're authenticating some old book.

Somebody wants to insure it for $5 million.

$5 mil...

Good morning, Robert.

Well, well, it would be, if you weren't over

one and one half hours late.

Well, it was such a pleasant day.

I strolled. I window-shopped. Oh, I got some wonderful music.

Mozart Flute Sonatas for me and Spike Jones for you.

But somehow I seem to have mislaid my sound system.

Oh, well.

You will find it down at the reception desk,

wrapped and ready to go home.

We are running an office here, not Philharmonic Hall!

Besides, after I'm done with this,

I want to have a conversation with you about a claim for that damaged Limoges.

Oh, I wrapped up that little matter at 2:30 this morning.

This wouldn't be the new Mark Twain book I've heard so much about, would it?

Magnificent, isn't it?

In moments like this, I sense the presence of genius.

Yes.

I feel the same way often in Robert's company.

He means the book.

Insurance applied for by one Lawrence Erlich?

As agent for the owner, yes, this is him.

If you don't mind,

I mean, I have to get this done before this afternoon.

If you have nothing better to do,

I suggest you might try catching up on those reports

that you've promised me all week.

Certainly.

If I may just offer one small word of advice,

examine that manuscript with special diligence.

Why?

- Do you know something I don't know? - Oh...

Well, all I'm saying

is that $5 million is a great deal of money for a book.

That is what one Japanese collector has already offered.

Besides, I have already had the manuscript authenticated

by no less of an expert than Chandler Fitzpatrick.

Mr. Butler, you didn't tell me that

Professor Fitzpatrick had already certified this.

Robert, excuse me.

I know you've explained these forms to me a dozen times,

but this form, Subsection B of 72...

Now, is that where I enter the estimated value of the claim

or the adjusted value?

No, you do not use a 72 for this!

You need a 15. You gotta do an--

Fire!

Fire!

Everybody out of the building!

Fire! It's a fire. Listen up quick!

Somebody get a fire extinguisher!

Shut that alarm off!

Fire!

Uh, shut that alarm off.

Somebody get a fire extinguisher!

All right, let's have the book face in this direction.

Check the seal on this case. This is awful.

Have it back in 45 minutes. I'll be right with you.

My God.

Dennis Stanton. It must be what, 20 years?

Nearly 25, actually.

Well, how are you, Lawrence?

I couldn't be better.

You, uh, still up to your old tricks?

More to the point, Lawrence, are you?

I work for Consolidated Casualty Insurance Company.

Ah, yes, well, I suppose it was too much to hope

that you were merely a Mark Twain fan, hmm?

You're not here for some kind of shakedown, are you?

I mean, that was never your style.

What could I tell anyone?

That you were absolutely the best forger I'd ever met

and second only to me as a con man?

No, no, I was better.

But all that's in the past now.

I've been legitimate for nearly a decade.

- Have you? - Mm.

I know it's incredible, but it's true.

You know, all those years practicing my craft...

gaining entry to the best houses...

all those experts, I finally realized that I knew as much as they did.

I knew more than they did.

And it finally dawned on me

that I could make just as much money,

with much less risk,

by simply jumping the fence.

Do you know, I'm having almost as much fun now

as when I was a crook.

You don't believe a word I'm saying, do you?

Well, as you said, you're almost as good a con man as I.

No, no, I said "better."

Lawrence, you have to know,

I will not let you defraud my company.

For the sake of our old acquaintance, I've said nothing about your past.

What past?

I was never indicted, never arrested.

You know, Dennis,

I've worked very hard to get to where I am.

If I were to hear even the slightest public inference

that I was less than totally honest...

I'd sue you for every penny you've got.

Then I take it you will not withdraw the Twain manuscript from Consolidated?

You take that manuscript to any expert in the country.

I mean, the best, and I know because I have.

They'll all tell you the same thing.

It's the genuine article.

I mean, it's enough to make a man believe in divine providence.

Listen, I've gotta get back to the display.

Your man, Mr. Butler, promised to have the manuscript back in an hour.

Dennis, you know, you, of all people,

should believe that someone can turn over a new leaf.

I mean, look at you.

Yes, I'll be there in half an hour.

I really appreciate the time, old friend.

- Bye. - Mr. Stanton.

Oh, Professor Fitzpatrick.

Oh, it's an honor to meet--

Lawrence Erlich tells me that you're casting doubt

on the authenticity of The Wild and Wicked Wench.

Now, I have staked my reputation on this book.

What qualifications could you possibly have

to question my judgment?

Professor, please, understand my position

as a representative of the insurance company.

Oh, don't take refuge in petty bureaucracy, sir.

Now, you are either going to furnish

some smidgeon of evidence

or else you will cease your smarmy insinuations at once.

Do I make myself clear?

And you obtained this specimen?

Ah, some fool lit a fire in his wastebasket.

I took the opportunity to snatch this page away to safety.

Since the book will be displayed under glass,

it won't be noticed for days.

Dennis...

I owe you a great deal,

but I'm an old man, discredited in the profession.

Through no fault of your own.

True, it was an honest mistake.

But one does not challenge Chandler Fitzpatrick

without being absolutely sure there's no mistake, honest or otherwise.

He ruined me,

but I've come to be content here in my library,

buried in my books.

I'm sorry.

I'm a man whose judgment can no longer be trusted.

Constantine, old friend,

it can by me.

Now, what if I were to tell you

that it was Chandler Fitzpatrick

who provided the authentication for this book?

- Oh? - Mm.

Oh, oh, oh, oh.

And you say this was discovered by a man known to be a forger?

The best I ever met.

Well, well, well, well, well.

What an appetizing prospect.

Is he going to give us any trouble?

I don't think so.

Let me do a little checking.

I'll see you later at the costume ball.

Lawrence...

- Mother! - Lindsey!

What are you doing here in San Francisco?

Oh, my God, you're not here

with that ancient rock and roll singer?

No, Mother, Roger is still in England.

And at Roger's age, they are not called

ancient rock 'n' roll singers, they're called legends.

Look, don't say I told you so, but he threw me out.

Oh, I'm sorry. Are you okay?

Yes, yeah, I'm fine.

I just discovered that with legends,

there are always plenty of other young women around.

Come on, let me buy you a cup of coffee.

Oh, wait, but before we do, I'd love to take a look at this

wonderful book I've been reading about before you auction it off.

Oh, is that why you've come back?

You think I'm coming into some money?

Why, Mother, how can you be so suspicious?

Especially since I can't understand why this precious family heirloom

that's been passed down from mother to daughter,

I've never heard of it before.

Lindsey, keep that to yourself.

This isn't a game.

I'm sure it isn't.

We better talk.

There I was, Beth, after all these years,

face to face with Lawrence Erlich again.

It brought back so many memories.

And, you know, all I could think of the entire time

was how much you loved books.

Remember how angry you got

when I dog-eared a page to mark my place?

And there I was,

tearing up what might be a priceless manuscript.

Ah, well.

If I'm right, it won't make any difference.

And if I'm wrong,

well, I may be a bit rusty to go back to the old profession,

but I'm sure there are plenty of jobs

for a man of my qualifications.

Though, at the moment, I can't think of any.

The councilman denied any involvement.

The Mayor, however, insists that the investigation

will continue.

Earlier tonight, a blaze swept through the convention room

of the Fairmont Hotel.

Damage to the hotel was minimal, fire officials said,

but the newly-discovered manuscript of Mark Twain's long-lost book,

The Wild and Wicked Wench, was completely destroyed.

Oh, Lawrence,

you can't really expect to get away with this.

Can you?

Inspector Oliver?

Dennis Stanton, Consolidated Casualty.

You're in charge of the investigation?

You guys carry the hotel's policy?

Only some of the contents.

I understand the fire was electrical in origin?

That's sure what it looks like.

The one question I have is why it spread so fast.

You mean it may have been arson?

Boy, I sure hope so.

I haven't had a decent arson in months.

Nice to meet a man who enjoys his work.

May I look?

Go ahead. Be my guest.

It's a damn shame.

It was a beautiful manuscript.

Lawrence, I'm very disappointed in you.

Dennis, you don't think that...

Surely you don't think

that I expect to pull something like this off on you, huh?

How stupid do you think I am?

I'm sure you have an alibi for when the fire started.

Oh, and which will disappoint you more?

If I do or if I don't?

Actually, I was at the costume ball, wearing a little more

than an oversized fig leaf in full view of the assemblage,

if you'll forgive the expression, as Adam.

Adam?

And if you don't believe me, I'll be glad to show you the outfit.

Oh, not before breakfast, thank you.

I'm going to get you.

Yes, I'm sure you're going to try.

Hmm.

Robert not in yet?

Are you kidding? He's upstairs.

They've had him on the carpet since 8:00 this morning.

You insure something for $5 million

and six hours later, it goes up in flames,

someone's liable to notice.

Robert.

Mm?

Are you all right?

I should have listened to you.

I never... I never should have touched that damned manuscript.

Keating is holding me personally responsible!

What an ungenerous attitude.

Robert, I'm not saying it's possible,

but if someone could prove that the manuscript were a forgery,

getting you and the company off the hook, what might that someone expect in return?

Bonus?

That's what you're looking for, some kind of reward?

Well, in a manner of speaking.

Not money. Nothing so mundane.

But to be honest, I do miss the strains of Mozart

wafting through these sterile corridors.

Don't you?

Constantine, old friend,

it is frustrating watching you do nothing.

Well, I'm hardly doing nothing.

I'm eating. I'm drinking.

I'm reading.

And I'm awaiting.

Awaiting what?

If I knew, I wouldn't be awaiting.

Well, while you do, Lawrence Erlich

gets away with a $5 million fraud.

This Mr. Erlich,

there's something between you, something in your past.

See, you would talk freely about anything,

except your feelings

and your dear, sadly missed Elizabeth.

So what has Mr. Erlich to do

with the memory of your poor dead wife?

Elizabeth and I went through a difficult time once.

All marriages do, I suppose.

I blame myself entirely for this one.

- And... - And...

He took advantage. Yes, it's now coming back to me.

I don't believe anything happened between them.

I certainly never asked.

But, yes, this may be something more than professional zeal.

Nonetheless,

I feel it.

There's something all wrong.

If it comforts you, for me, it also feels wrong.

But I can't put my finger on exactly why.

And I'm quite sure that the binding dates back to the turn of the century.

I also tested the ink,

and it's fully consistent with the ink

that was used in San Francisco a hundred years ago.

Well, you also said that it was common ink,

which might easily have been artificially aged.

Yes, but there's more.

You see, I've been re-reading my Twain,

and the writing style is completely consistent

with his San Francisco period.

And, to a trained eye, the handwriting is either Twain

or a superb forgery.

Lawrence Erlich is a superb forger.

Yes, but he couldn't forge the paper.

The paper is as old as it purports to be.

So you're saying what?

That the manuscript is the genuine article?

I'm saying no such thing.

A warning bell has rung in my mind,

a faint bell, but a bell nonetheless.

And until I can deduce what that bell means,

I can't help you.

Hi.

Oh, Miss Barlow?

You must be Mr. Stanton.

Well, I'm afraid my mother isn't home yet, but maybe you'd like to come in and wait.

Thank you.

Very nice.

Mr. Erlich found it for us.

I have to confess, when I spoke to you on the phone,

I wasn't expecting someone quite so...

Venerable.

I like that word.

I like that word. May I take your coat?

Thank you.

And then perhaps you could assist me across the room.

Don't be touchy. I adore older men.

I find them fascinating. They've had experiences.

Miss Barlow, are you flirting with me?

Would it upset you if I were?

On the contrary.

But it would lead me to wonder how soon you expect your mother back home.

Well, my mother and Mr. Erlich

are at her publishers going over the transcript.

Ah, so the manuscript's been transcribed?

Yes, it's the first thing Mr. Erlich insisted on.

I think he'd like to foster a bidding war for the publication rights.

Mr. Erlich thinks of everything.

Can I offer you something? Coffee, perhaps? Drink?

Or maybe you'd like to have dinner with me tonight?

You're a very beautiful young lady,

but suddenly, I don't know why,

I'm put in mind of a runaway train.

Mother!

We were just talking about you.

This is Mr. Stanton from the insurance company.

Mrs. Barlow.

A pleasure to meet you, at last.

I doubt that, Mr. Stanton.

Lawrence has told me about you.

Ah, well,

I see where your daughter gets her forthrightness

as well as her beauty.

Look, if you've come here to make trouble about our claim--

Quite the contrary, dear lady.

My company is completely prepared to pay.

Unfortunately, there is one small technicality.

You see, insurance companies are forbidden from

disbursing benefits in the cases of possible arson,

at least until the police are reasonably sure

that the crime--

Don't worry, Mother.

I'm sure he means the alleged crime.

Exactly.

The alleged crime was not committed for the purposes of fraud.

So far, we are told

there is not a shred of evidence connecting you with the fire.

Oh, that's reassuring.

With any luck, you should receive your check

by the end of the week.

I hope that won't inconvenience you.

Oh, not at all.

I'll leave you these forms

instructing us how and where you prefer payment to be made.

Thank you.

Now, I don't wish to appear rude--

I understand. Yes.

I can show myself out.

Again, a pleasure to meet you.

How about Otto's Grotto. 8:30?

Seafood?

My favorite. I'd be delighted.

Good. I'll meet you there.

Oh, and since you haven't come through with the check yet,

you're paying.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Would you care to join us, Mrs. Barlow?

No, no, I...

I have other plans this evening.

Well, till this evening then.

Business.

I'm sorry I'm not here to get your call,

but leave a message and I'll return it as soon as I get in.

Dennis, the bell finally rang!

Rang? It pealed with joy! I've found it!

Forget the time.

Come over here the minute you get home.

Would you like another glass of wine, Mr. Stanton?

No, thank you, Jean-Pierre.

Looks as though I've been stood up.

Women, you know they sometimes

take forever to get ready.

Hi. I'm sorry we're late.

It took me all afternoon to convince Mother to join us.

And it took her forever to get ready.

I hope you don't mind, Mr. Stanton.

I realized earlier that I was terribly rude to you,

and I wanted to apologize.

Totally unnecessary.

And as for minding,

my only possible regret would be that

to gaze at one of you would mean looking away from the other.

Stanton.

You know, as soon as I heard the victim was some kind of old book expert,

I had this gut feeling that you were involved.

When I got home, I found his message on my machine.

I came directly here.

He didn't say what he wanted?

Well it... it was a private matter.

Murder makes it pretty public, Stanton.

I'll make it easy for you.

It had something to do with adultery, didn't it?

I beg your pardon?

Adultery. You know, another man's wife.

I figure that's what he's trying to tell us with the book.

Book?

Lieutenant, I haven't the foggiest idea

what you're talking about.

You say he was dead when you got here?

Yeah.

Now, we figure he was shot here at the desk

and then somehow managed to crawl over to the bookcase,

you can see the trail of blood,

and wrestle a copy of The Scarlet Letter out of the bottom shelf.

Scarlet Letter?

Yeah, you know, Nathaniel Hawthorne.

Hester, uh, what's her name?

Adultery, all that stuff.

Anyway, the guy is dying,

so I figure he's not going over there for a little light reading material.

He's trying to tell someone something.

And since you're the one he knows is coming...

- May I look at the book? - Yeah.

You're gonna need a handkerchief.

Nothing's been removed?

Come on, this is a crime scene.

Of course nothing's been removed.

Now, we've checked the book.

There's no notes, no marks inside the book, nothing.

What do you think he's trying to tell us?

I mean, it has to be something to do with adultery, right?

Lieutenant, I give you my solemn word that I have no more idea

of what Constantine was trying to tell us than you do.

Why didn't you tell him about the page you took out of the manuscript?

Rhoda, darling, I'd be perfectly willing to admit my folly if it would help

catch whoever killed Constantine.

But so far, there's nothing definite to link the two.

Well, listen, uh...

you asked me to find out about old publishing paper.

You wanna hear what I've got or do you want to wait till morning?

Now please.

Well, first of all,

there's more of it around than you'd think.

Uh, some of it turns up every year.

In the last ten years, there've been a dozen finds,

the largest of which was from an old paper factory

they were tearing down in London.

Even if you find the missing page,

I don't know how you're gonna prove that that paper is this paper because--

Dennis, are you listening to me?

Dennis, um,

I'm sorry about your friend.

Hm?

Oh, I'm sorry.

The Scarlet Letter, I know that it's got you bugged, huh?

There's a connection between The Scarlet Letter

and the missing manuscript page.

But what?

Maybe Mark Twain wrote about The Scarlet Letter.

Or about Nathaniel Hawthorne or...

The Scarlet Letter. The Scarlet Letter.

The Scarlet Letter.

The Scarlet...

The Scarlet Letter!

Constantine, you beautiful,

devious genius!

You're looking in the wrong section.

Am I?

You shouldn't have killed him, Lawrence.

I didn't.

I don't suppose it matters now, but I didn't.

I've always hated you, Dennis.

You must know that.

You and your precious Elizabeth.

That was someone I could have loved.

But she'd have nothing to do with me, said she had...

the best.

Why should she settle...

for a pale imitation.

Well, look--

I knew we'd get you sooner or later, Stanton.

The good behavior couldn't last.

But you've not only violated your parole,

but we've got you for breaking and entering,

obstructing justice,

tampering with a police seal--

Lieutenant, I told you,

Lawrence Erlich had already broken the seal.

And the longer you keep me here, the further away he's going to get.

Oh, don't make me laugh!

Of course, you couldn't have bothered to tell me about Lawrence Erlich

and the missing page until we caught you red-handed.

Because I didn't know then where the page was.

As far as I knew, he'd already retrieved it.

What makes you think he didn't?

Well, of course he didn't. Otherwise, why would he have come back?

Oh, and now, like some revelation,

you suddenly know where this mythical manuscript page is.

Exactly, because I finally realized

Stavros didn't mean The Scarlet Letter.

He meant the Scarlett letter.

Now, may I?

This was the case that made Stavros' reputation.

Some dealer in Georgia claimed to have a letter

from Margaret Mitchell describing how she created

the character of Scarlett O'Hara.

Constantine proved it was a forgery.

You see, what he was trying to remind me of

was the Scarlett letter.

Constantine Stavros was an indifferent scholar

and very slipshod in his methodology.

But he was an honest man, and I was very sorry to hear of his death.

Well, the message on my phone machine

said that he'd found something on the page.

Well, you say it wasn't the paper,

it wasn't the ink,

it wasn't the handwriting or the style.

Mr. Stanton, I invite you to look at that page.

That's all there is.

There is nothing else.

Yes, what is it?

Police, I need to talk to Mr. Stanton.

Stanton, I thought you'd like to know we found Lawrence Erlich.

Oh, is he here in the hotel?

He was, but he stepped out.

Dennis, I'm so sorry.

It's all right, Rhoda. I knew the risk.

But it's so unfair! The book is a forgery.

Erlich's suicide proves that it's a forgery.

If it was a suicide.

He may have fallen or been pushed.

Well, that's no reason to fire you!

Well, of course it is!

Until we can prove it's a forgery,

The Wild and Wicked Wench must be taken as genuine.

And if it ever got out

that an employee of this insurance company

defaced a priceless manuscript... Oh!

But it's not priceless!

Well, now that, dear heart,

is what is known as circular logic.

It's sweet, it's emotional, but it wouldn't hold up

in an undergraduate debating society, much less a court of law.

And now they're gonna revoke your probation.

Until I can get another job. Look, not to worry.

Life is a toy chest of opportunity.

Okay, Sundegaard, this will be your desk.

Now, if you don't like the decor in here,

we'll have the painters in here this after--

Oh, Stanton.

I... I thought you left.

Without saying goodbye? I wouldn't dream of it.

Well, goodbye.

Goodbye.

Okay, Sundegaard, come on. I'll show you the cafeteria.

Oh, they do a superb salmon surprise.

I highly recommend it...

early in the week.

Dennis...

Oh!

Take care, Rhoda.

This is not goodbye. It is au revoir.

And as soon as I'm settled in somewhere else,

I'll send for you.

Promise.

Well, there's one thing that life's taught me.

Travel light.

Paper, ink, handwriting, style.

Odd, you never mentioned the dye.

The dye? What do you mean the dye?

Along the edge.

You can't see it on a single page,

but when all the pages of a manuscript are bound together...

Like this book. See?

Yes, it's called the staining.

Staining then.

Now, I saw the manuscript before it was burned.

There was staining along the edge.

Nothing unusual about that.

Which is why I never gave it a second thought.

But then, I found out about this

cache of 150-year-old paper

with exactly the same mauve staining.

We got in touch with the people in England.

And to whom do you suppose they sold the paper?

Mm-hmm.

Lawrence Erlich.

Astonishing coincidence, don't you think?

So you still believe that book was a forgery.

You think that Erlich was able to deceive me?

I think nothing of the sort.

I think you were in it with him, right up to your hairy chin.

How dare you accuse me of that?

I don't know, I simply open my mouth and the oddest things come out.

In this case, however, I think an intensive comparison

between the London paper and this manuscript page

will turn up some very embarrassing similarities.

Well, what if it did?

We can all make an honest mistake from time to time.

You mean like Constantine Stavros did?

- Yes. - All right.

All right, for the moment, let's say you were right.

Actually, I don't much care about the manuscript,

but I do care about the murder.

Oh, I see.

Now, first you accuse me of fraud and now you're accusing me of murder?

Oh, no. Quite the opposite.

I'm asking you to help me to catch a murderer,

or, more precisely, a murderess.

Mrs. Barlow?

Erlich's gun was a .38.

The gun that killed Constantine was a .22,

a small gun, a woman's weapon, easily concealed in a purse.

Now, Erlich and Mrs. Barlow

went together to retrieve the page.

Then she came to dinner with me to establish an alibi.

Later, Erlich went back to search for the page.

But when he told her that I had caught him there,

she panicked.

So you think she pushed him out of the window?

Well, he was the only connection that could lead to her.

I also think

that Mrs. Barlow still has the .22 pistol

she killed Constantine with.

All I need to do is find it.

And I need your help to make it possible

to search her house.

Oh, I see.

And why should I help you?

You owe Stavros. You owe Erlich.

It was your authentication that got this whole thing started.

Yeah. Point well taken.

In return,

I would see that no breath of scandal

sullies your otherwise impeccable reputation.

I see.

The police can't search for the .22 without a warrant.

But if Mrs. Barlow were to be at my place

for an intimate dinner, say,

and then to be caught

attempting to steal the manuscript page

while my back was turned,

now, that would certainly constitute probable cause.

You see where I'm headed, Mr. Fitzpatrick?

Mm-hmm.

All of us are in danger of going to prison

as long as that manuscript page exists.

Now, one of us has to get it back and destroy it.

Lawrence never told me you were a part of it.

He told me we'd fooled you.

Oh, come now, dear lady.

You couldn't have brought this off without my connivance.

Now, surely you realize that.

No, what I realize

is that you'd like a cut of the insurance money.

Well, unless you would prefer me

to re-examine that page and express sudden new doubts...

Stanton keeps that page in his apartment.

What are you suggesting?

We hire a burglar to go in there and steal it?

Oh, yes, and let another person in on our secret?

No, I think not.

Anyway, I was under the impression

the two of you were on extremely friendly terms

with Dennis Stanton.

Oh, you expect me to go in there and seduce Dennis Stanton?

Oh, no, no, no. Of course not.

I expect Lindsey to go and seduce him.

Oh, don't be vulgar.

Vulgar?

Prison is vulgar.

He's right, Mother.

I'll do it.

Mrs. Barlow.

Good evening, sir.

Detective Ishimini at your service.

Of course, it occurred to me

that I may be wrong about Mrs. Barlow.

Oh, I presume that's the gun you killed Constantine Stavros with,

which you planned to plant on Mrs. Barlow's body.

Drop it, Professor.

I'll kill him.

Now, don't move out of this room, any of you.

If I get a glimpse of even one of your moronic faces,

I'll shoot.

Ugh.

You all right, Stanton?

"The reports of my death," as Mr. Twain once remarked,

"are greatly exaggerated."

Dennis, welcome back.

I got you a present.

Thank you, Robert. What a pleasant surprise.

Ah.

Mantovani Plays the Classics.

Well, I asked the man at the store. He said you'd like it.

Yes, thank you, Robert. That was a lovely thought.

Well, you're welcome.

I will need you to talk to the District Attorney.

Oh, I'm sorry, Robert, I'm...

I'm still in the midst of my convalescence.

It may be a week or so before I--

Oh, thank you...

Can come back full-time.

Oh, no, no, no, no. Take all the time you need.

Yes.

It's about the, uh, Barlow prosecution.

Ah, well, I'm afraid there's a serious problem

about any prosecution of the Barlows.

They had nothing to do with either murder.

Fitzpatrick not only killed poor Constantine,

but he also confessed to pushing Erlich out of the window.

Without their cooperation, we could never have caught him.

What do you mean?

They tried to defraud the company.

I'm afraid we have no physical proof of that.

No physical evidence?

We have the forged manuscript page.

We don't have the forged manuscript page?

No, Lindsey Barlow went to my place to retrieve it.

As far as I know, she has it, if it still exists.

You let her destroy it?

I made a deal to trap a killer.

I intend to honor it.

Oh, don't look so glum, Robert.

District Attorneys do it all the time.

The Barlows have agreed to withdraw their claim for $5 million,

so your record is still intact.

Oh, I'm late already.

Bye.

You were up there an awful long time.

- Any problems? - None. None.

Just re-explaining the terms of our arrangement

to my superior, a man not given

to grasping the obvious.

Lindsey, I didn't expect you as well.

Well, Mother said you were going on a day trip to the wine country.

I thought it sounded like fun.

Lindsey, you are a loyal and concerned daughter,

but don't you think it's time that you let your mother out

without a chaperone? Hmm?

Yeah, I guess it is.

Have a good time.

We plan to.

Oh, and Mother, don't let him get you tipsy.

That wine can catch up on you.

Oh, and Dennis, don't keep her out too late.

I expect you both back by midnight.

Midnight?