All language subtitles for MrSWr6E04.The.Error.of.Her.Ways.

Marian Randall, I'm placing you under arrest

for the murder of your husband.

This is a mistake. You're both wrong!

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

She killed her husband, Lieutenant.

Good. You continue believing that.

Jessica, you are not responsible

for that woman's death.

So I hear maybe Marian Randall

didn't kill herself after all, huh?

Maybe she got a little help.

Ten minutes ago, I left the bank president's office.

- He fired me. - Oh, God, no.

I intend to press wrongful death suits

against this department and you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Lieutenant Hanna, come in, please.

Lieutenant Hanna,

come in, please. Lieutenant Hanna.

This is Officer Kruger.

Officer Kruger, where's Lieutenant Hanna?

The chief needs to speak to him.

Well, right now, he's inside the Randall house,

him and Mrs. Fletcher.

He's interrogating Mrs. Randall.

Please tell him to contact the chief immediately.

Well, ma'am, he left specific instructions

that he wasn't to be interrupted.

Look, Kruger,

this is a direct order from the chief.

Is that clear?

Yes, ma'am.

In that case...

I'll see what I can do,

though I kind of think

he's not gonna be real happy about it.

I didn't get all that. You're breaking up.

Please repeat.

Are you there?

Officer Kruger, please acknowledge.

This is insane. I did not kill my husband.

I'm sorry, Marian, but I believe that you did.

I loved Clark.

We had ten wonderful years together.

Why would I kill him?

Good question, Mrs. Randall. You tell me.

Lieutenant, everybody knows he was killed by an intruder.

Now suddenly you're accusing my sister of murder

based on the far-fetched hypothesis

of some meddling mystery writer.

If it's so far-fetched, humor me. Mrs. Fletcher?

Marian, I'm sure you remember.

Last Saturday,

Kay Weber invited us to her condo for drinks.

Now, you phoned Clark from Kay's

and you told us that

he would put some steaks on the barbecue.

We drove to your home

and were shocked to find that Clark was dead.

Now, it certainly looked like a robbery.

Among other things, Clark's watch was missing.

Now, I happened to notice at the time

that your answering machine was on.

The light was blinking,

indicating that there was a message from someone.

A few moments later I returned with your glass of water

and the light was off.

At the time, I didn't catch the significance.

So the light was off. What's the difference?

It was off because you had erased the tape

before you played it.

Why would she do that?

Because what was on the tape,

I believe, was your so-called conversation

with Clark about dinner.

But you weren't talking to your husband.

You were talking to the machine.

No. I was not talking to a machine!

I was talking to Clark!

Marian, I think we should call your attorney.

What you also don't know, Mrs. Randall,

was that Mrs. Fletcher's accountant

tried to call this number too,

about the same time.

He got the machine, too,

which raises an interesting question.

If Randall was alive enough at the time

to talk to his wife,

how come he didn't answer the phone

and talk to the accountant?

You're just guessing at all this.

You have no proof.

I think we do.

The bullet we took from your husband's body.

While we haven't yet

found the gun you used to kill him,

we did find something that's just as revealing.

A year ago, you shot a real thief

with a gun registered to your name, didn't you?

Yes. So?

And where's that gun now, Mrs. Randall?

I told you about that.

I got rid of that gun months ago.

That's interesting.

On file in my ballistics lab

is a record of the bullet we dug out of the thief

after we captured him.

That bullet was fired from the same gun

that was used to kill your husband.

No. This is a mistake.

You're both wrong!

Marian Randall, I'm placing you under arrest

for the murder of your husband.

You have the right to remain silent.

I was up in LA for 15 years. I tell you that?

Oh, once or twice.

Crime, I got paid for.

Traffic and smog, I didn't.

I got used to having a partner up there.

Here, I'm alone in the car, keep my own counsel,

sort of, till you popped up.

Me?

I listen to you like I used to listen to Murray,

the guy who drove with me.

I admit that sometimes Murray's crazy notions were taped

for later broadcast in another time zone,

like yours.

- Oh? - Yeah.

The answering machine idea. I'm glad you caught it.

I'm gonna grab one of your books.

I wouldn't be surprised

if you write as good as you talk.

Thank you, I think.

What do you think will happen?

Well, she's got a clean background.

She and her husband knew the right people.

They were even in tight with the chief of police.

I think the D.A. might offer her second-degree.

Before you head home,

could you stop by headquarters tomorrow?

I'll take a deposition.

Might save you a trip back here.

Oh, happy to.

My accountant and I aren't planning

to fly out of here for several days.

Clark banked here,

yet we show a grand total of just $312.

I worked for Clark for five years.

I can't believe he was a thief.

Three million dollars simply does not go up in smoke.

And a million of that

happened to be from my investors.

What's the difference whose money it was?

The difference is that I have a reputation.

Oh, and I don't?

I can't go to my clients like J.B. Fletcher and say,

"I'm sorry, but the money you entrusted me to invest

has simply disappeared."

I sold 15 lots already.

I mean, people expect to live in three-bedroom homes

on a golf course a year from now.

There's no homes, no golf course.

What, am I liable?

Only if you know where the money is.

Oh, that's funny. That's very funny.

Oh, stop it!

I authorized this bank's three million dollar investment.

But unless we pull ourselves together

and find out just what Clark did with that money,

we can all look for work, after we look for lawyers.

Do we understand, gentlemen?

Well, we do know that yesterday

his wife was arrested for murder.

So maybe she knows where the money is.

Maybe that's why she killed him.

Yes?

What?

Well, tell them...

look, I'll be out in a moment.

Well, gentlemen, it starts.

Outside auditors.

Who sent for them?

The president of this bank.

Linda, it was terrible.

I was up all night.

I can't sleep in a four-by-six cell

with a junkie and a couple of hookers!

Marian, I'm sorry.

Where is my attorney? Where's my bail?

Marian, please, just listen.

The judge said there was gonna be a $250,000 bail.

What did he do, change his mind?

Did he revoke it?

Honey, just sit down.

- Honey... - What am I gonna do?

There isn't any money in Clark's accounts...

- What! - To pay for your bail.

What are you talking about? That's crazy.

I know.

That's what I thought the first time I heard it.

But if your late husband was a millionaire,

he took it with him when he went.

So I want you to think.

What are your assets?

Assets?

I was working the perfume counter at Saks

when I met Clark.

He was my asset!

What about your jewelry, your car?

Do you have any furs?

You need $250,000

or you're in here until the trial.

No! No! I'd die first!

Sis, you've gotta help me.

I didn't kill him. I didn't.

I know. I know.

Please print your names and telephone numbers

and indicate how much money you have lost.

Before the end of the week,

I will have filed a class-action suit

on your behalf against the Estate

of the late Clark Randall and Palm Estates Development.

Mr. Alden, my company bulldozed the land

and paved the roads.

I did not lose cash.

I lost man hours, I lost materials,

and I received an $800,000 rubber check

for my troubles.

Well, if it's any consolation,

the law says that if the Randall Estate

is able to make restitution,

you will be paid ahead of those

who are investors or mere homebuyers.

"Mere homebuyers"?

I lost a $100,000 down payment,

money I've worked hard for.

Since when in a class-action suit

do some people have more class than the next guy?

Well, Miss Byrne, I'm afraid that in this case,

some people are more equal than others.

You know, I planned to live in that home.

I don't suppose anyone has a clue where the money is?

Lieutenant Hanna?

So far, the funds are still missing.

Lieutenant, I put all my late husband's

life insurance money in that Palm Estates.

Oh, how can they say that a man like Clarksie would...

That's what I used to call him, Clarksie.

He was such a dear, sweet man.

He didn't have a face of a thief, not at all.

And when I heard on the news

that you had charged his wife with murder.

Me? Oh, no.

I think she's got it buried in the back yard.

- I'm sure. - No, we checked.

Ma'am, you may not have been aware of it,

but you're not the only woman on the list of investors

who called him Clarksie.

How did you know that?

Ladies and gentlemen, thank you.

I believe I have all the facts.

If you have any questions, please call me.

Jessica, I can't begin to tell you

how sorry and embarrassed I am about all this.

Oh, Ward, it's not your fault.

Look, all we can do is to get in line

and hope for the best in the courts.

Like ten cents on the dollar?

Oh, Miss Byrne, if I can be of any help,

please don't hesitate to ask.

Professional advice? No, thanks, Mr. Silloway.

I could do better with tea leaves.

There is a very angry woman.

Yes, but I'm afraid she's not wrong about me, Jessica.

Oh, Ward, we've been together too long

to let one mishap end our relationship.

If you have any news,

you can reach me in Cabot Cove.

All right. Will do.

Heading back home?

Yes. Day after tomorrow.

I'm catching the noon flight to Boston.

Well, I can't take you that far,

but I'll give you a lift wherever you wanna go now.

Thank you.

Marian Randall made bail yesterday afternoon.

Her sister, Linda, put up her own house.

I see.

Surprised the hell out of the D.A.

He offered her murder two. She said, "No way."

Not only is she pleading innocent,

she wants to stand trial.

That's odd, considering the evidence.

Well, it is mostly circumstantial.

You're not having second thoughts, are you?

Oh, no. No, not at all.

No, I'm quite sure that she's guilty.

It just seems strange

that she would risk life imprisonment

instead of a minimal sentence.

Must have been quite a week for you here.

I bet you never saw a corpse before.

Never in Palm Springs.

Hanna.

Say again?

Yeah, I know where it is. We're on our way.

- What is it? - Trouble.

Marian Randall locked herself in her garage,

started her car,

and killed herself with carbon monoxide.

Hmm?

Must have happened about 9:00, 10:00 last night.

Engine running, car windows open, garage shut.

Thank you, Doctor.

I think I'll look around inside.

Get out of my way!

I'm sorry, lady.

She is my sister!

- It's okay, Kruger. - Let me go!

Miss Dixon, I'm sorry. I know how you feel.

Oh, do you really? Do either of you?

She was innocent.

She was ready to fight the charge.

She even hired a private investigator

to look for the thief that you said didn't exist.

Miss Dixon, you have every right to be upset.

Oh, you've got that right.

My sister

was not a very brave woman.

And I think it finally hit her,

what she was facing.

Years in prison for a crime that she didn't commit.

All thanks to you, lady.

Mrs. Fletcher didn't arrest your sister, Miss Dixon.

I did, because I had a rock-solid case.

Oh, you had nothing.

You and your expert here had nothing.

Don't you think for a minute that I'm done with this.

Mrs. Fletcher, don't blame yourself.

Marian was as high-strung as a kite.

Obviously, she couldn't live with her guilt.

I just wish that she hadn't taken matters

into her own hands.

In any case, her suicide officially closes the case.

Except for one very large loose end:

The money.

Lieutenant, the doctor would like a word with you inside.

I just found this in the bathroom.

Amobarbital.

It's a fairly common prescription-type tranquilizer.

Bottle's empty.

When I perform the autopsy on Mrs. Randall,

I suspect I'll find the contents.

Something strike you wrong, Mrs. Fletcher?

Well, it seems strange that she would take pills

when she'd already decided on carbon monoxide.

It's not that unusual.

Some suicidal people

are afraid they'll lose their determination,

and pills can be a form of insurance that they won't.

Miss Dixon, this is Emmett Barry.

Who?

The private detective your sister hired.

I'm sorry to hear she's dead. You got my sympathies.

And you probably wanna know who is going to pay you.

She already paid me, lady, in advance,

for three days' work plus expenses.

I'm sorry.

I've been covering hock shops and the jewelry stores,

and I just found this watch.

It's got an inscription on the back.

"To Clark, my love always, Marian."

That's it.

Where did you find it? Who turned it in?

Hock shop on Alvarez Avenue.

The guy who pawned it was a real John Doe.

Street bum, no ID.

Lieutenant, we were out having dinner,

and we just got your message that you needed to see me.

At my request.

Recognize it, Mrs. Fletcher?

Yes, I guess you do.

It's Clark Randall's watch, all right.

It was pawned a couple of nights ago.

We have a description of the guy,

but so far, we've come up empty.

But if you'd like a hint, Mrs. Fletcher,

I can tell you who he was.

A thief

who broke into Clark Randall's house last week

and killed Clark and then robbed him.

I'm sure that that's how it appears to you, Miss Dixon.

Do you know what you've done?

Do you have any idea?

You've murdered an innocent woman

who wouldn't hurt a fly,

a woman left penniless who was driven to suicide.

I have already told the Lieutenant.

I intend to press wrongful death suits

against this department

and you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Well, she's wrong, of course.

She has to be.

That expression on your face, Lieutenant...

what are you thinking?

I'm not thinking, Mrs. Fletcher. I'm hearing.

I'm hearing Murray's voice saying,

"Idiot, why didn't you make sure

you found the gun before you jailed her?"

But the ballistic report proves

that the murder weapon was the same gun

she used to shoot the burglar last year.

But she says she lost that gun months ago.

Maybe she did.

Maybe someone else got hold of it.

Now, just a moment, Lieutenant.

You're forgetting something.

I called Clark Randall

around the same time Marian claims she called him.

I got no answer, just the machine.

That means he was already dead, doesn't it, Jessica?

Well, I only said that it could mean that.

I see.

Having second thoughts, Mrs. Fletcher?

No. No, I am still positive

that Marian erased the answering tape

to get rid of a so-called conversation

that she said she had with her husband.

And erased my call at the same time.

Yeah.

But you didn't actually see Marian erase it.

Well, she was standing by the machine

when I left the room.

But you didn't actually see her hit the erase button.

You know I didn't.

This whole thing's starting to fall apart

like a paper airplane in a rainstorm.

I'm seeing visions of me on the witness stand

and Linda Dixon's lawyer stripping away my skin,

layer by layer.

She killed her husband, Lieutenant.

Good. You continue believing that, Mrs. Fletcher,

because after me, you'll be next.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a little work to do,

like finding the guy who pawned the watch

and maybe, please, God, the gun.

Well, if there's anything that I can do...

Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher, you've already done enough.

Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Kay.

- Oh, sit, please. - Thanks.

I'm afraid I'm not in a position

to do you much good, Pauline.

Look, that hundred thousand dollars I lost to Clark

might not seem like a lot to you, but...

Don't be silly.

Well, it represented a big chunk of my disposable income.

The major chunk, as a matter of fact.

And then when I got turned down on my request for a loan,

- I just thought... - Pauline,

ten minutes ago, I left the bank president's office.

He reminded me that I had authorized

that three million dollar loan to Clark Randall.

Then he fired me.

Oh, God, no.

I'm so sorry.

Me, too.

Well, I guess I'll have to think of something else.

Thanks anyway. I know you'd help if you could.

You bet.

Excuse me. Secretary's at lunch.

I was just leaving.

Lieutenant, I'm a little surprised to see you.

I thought Marian's suicide closed the murder case.

So did I.

Let's say I'm reexamining a few loose ends.

Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to go over

Mrs. Randall's activities

the day her husband was killed.

Again?

Sure, why not?

Oh, let's see.

It was immediately following the groundbreaking ceremonies.

I threw a little cocktail party at my place,

about 6:00, 6:30.

Clark couldn't attend,

but Marian did come by sometime before 7:00.

She phoned Clark,

who told her that he'd put

some steaks on the barbecue for everybody,

and we all left for Clark and Marian's.

Twenty minutes later, we discovered Clark's body.

Think carefully.

Marian nearly passed out, or so it seemed.

Mrs. Fletcher brought her a glass of water.

Now, did Marian go near

her telephone answering machine?

Not that I recall.

Not that you recall?

I mean, I don't remember.

I wasn't paying that much attention.

Then you didn't notice

if the message light was blinking?

No, Lieutenant, I didn't notice.

Now, Clark?

Well, that sounds like a wonderful idea.

I'll ask them.

Everybody, Clark's just finished his meeting.

He wants to barbecue us all some steaks.

Can I help you with something, Mrs. Fletcher?

Oh, Lieutenant.

Fix you a beer? Iced tea?

Would you like a sandwich?

Actually, I was looking for the beef.

At this time of day? I admire your appetite.

You know, when Officer Kruger told me you were in here,

I was tempted to kick his butt from here to Azusa,

but then I realized no one had told him

that you're now persona non grata

on this investigation.

Lieutenant, there are no steaks in the refrigerator

and there are none in the freezer.

Now, if Clark Randall was planning

to barbecue steaks for us, where are they?

Maybe he was gonna run out to the store.

At 7:00 at night? But if so, why didn't he?

I mean, did the so-called intruders

just happen to show up

as he was heading out the door?

I doubt it.

Excuse me.

Lieutenant, Dr. Melville's trying to reach you.

He's at his office.

Thanks.

Doc? Lieutenant Hanna.

What do you have?

Yeah.

I see.

Thanks.

Well, we were right about the barbiturates.

She was loaded with enough Nardane

to knock out an elephant.

Then she put herself behind the wheel of that car,

and it was a race to see which one would get her first,

the pills or the carbon monoxide.

Are you saying that they found Nardane in her system?

Yeah, prescription tranquilizers.

Doc Melville found the bottle in her medicine chest, remember?

No, Lieutenant,

what he found in her medicine chest

was Amobarbital, not Nardane.

Thanks, Jerry. Thanks very much.

Thanks for your help.

What is it?

Marian's family doctor. He has no idea

how Nardane could have gotten into her system.

She wouldn't have had any around the house.

If she had, she wouldn't have taken it.

Run that by me slowly, Doc.

Nardane can cause a severe reaction in some users.

Marian Randall tried it years ago

and broke out in a rash.

Oh, Lord.

That means that someone gave Marian Nardane

to pacify her or maybe to knock her out,

not knowing of her allergy.

Put her in the car, behind the wheel,

turned on the engine.

Do you know, we're talking murder here, Mrs. Fletcher.

Yes, I know, Lieutenant, but the question is why?

You tell me.

If you can't think of a reason, ma'am,

I can think of a couple of real dillies.

Marian Randall did not kill her husband,

but she found out who did,

and the real killer murdered her to shut her up.

No, Lieutenant, I don't think--

Or what's much more likely, the real killer saw a chance

to fake the woman's suicide and close the case forever.

Either way, ma'am,

thanks to you, I have a big problem.

Lieutenant, I'm as confused

and upset by all this as you are.

I seriously doubt that, ma'am.

I grant you, there are several unanswered questions,

but there has to be a logical explanation

for everything that's happened.

Now, suppose we begin with the pawned wristwatch--

Mrs. Fletcher,

let's put a stop to that "we" business right now.

Randall's dead, three million dollars is missing,

you're a principle investor.

That makes you a suspect.

Well, surely you don't think that I--

What I think and what I have to put in my report

are two different things.

Oh, that's ridiculous.

Ma'am, do us both a favor.

Go back to your hotel,

relax for a day or two by the pool

until I sort this out.

In other words, don't leave town without your permission.

Happy you see it that way.

Closing shop, Mr. Bose?

Yeah, one step ahead of the law.

I don't know what it is with me.

Wherever I show up,

people are suddenly out of work.

I'll tell you what I need.

I need a list of everybody who made a down payment

on one of your houses.

Oh, yeah. I got them right here. Here.

- Keep them. I got plenty of them. - Oh, thanks.

So I hear maybe Marian Randall

didn't kill herself after all, huh?

Maybe she got a little help.

Oh, really? Who told you that?

Well, I mean, it's a small town, Lieutenant.

Yeah, maybe they mentioned what happened

to the three million bucks.

Oh, well, I wish they had.

You know, some of that money's mine.

You mean you didn't know that he was pocketing the assets?

Well, I mean, how could-- of course not.

I'm a salesman.

And he always paid me, on time, in full.

I mean, I never asked him any questions like that.

There was no need to, really.

I hope you're not leaving town, Mr. Bose.

No, no, no.

I got myself a new job, down on Palm Canyon Drive.

I'm selling this new development.

It's called Oasis Vista.

These are the best-built

and the best-priced houses I ever sold, really.

At least since my last job.

Here, have a brochure.

Oh, this is way out of my price range.

The Twin Palms Pawnshop, you been there?

I can't say that I have. No, no.

No?

A guy matching your age and build

went in there the other day

and hawked Clark Randall's watch.

Well, that wasn't me.

What, you wanna put me in a lineup?

I'll let you know. Thanks for the list.

All right. Don't mention it.

Yeah, Bose here.

Oh, hi.

Hi there, Miss Byrne. How are you?

You invited me to dinner a couple weeks ago, Sterling.

Is that invitation still open?

Well, of course. You know it is.

Good, because the heat is killing me,

I'm bored to tears,

and I wanna talk to you about real estate.

Uh-huh.

Well, how about Ernesto's?

I'll pick you up at 7:30?

I'll be waiting.

Now all I have to do is keep his hands off my knees

between the soup and the spaghetti.

I'd do it myself, Pauline,

except he's never tried to hit on me.

You know, he's not the brightest guy around.

I'm not sure he knows anything.

I've gotta start somewhere.

I am not gonna have the people in this town

whispering about my sister behind her back.

I'm gonna clear her name.

I am gonna prove

that she had nothing to do with that theft

or with Clark's death.

Jessica, I do wish you'd cheer up.

Ward, at the typewriter,

if I make a mistake, I can erase it.

If the entire chapter's a fiasco,

there's the wastebasket.

But this is not erasable.

Jessica, you are not responsible

for that woman's death.

At worst, you made an honest mistake,

that's all.

I mean, look, how do you think I feel?

I'm the one who got you into this investment.

If it weren't for me,

you wouldn't be here in the first place.

Why don't you come back east with me tomorrow?

I have a noon flight.

Oh, I don't think Lieutenant Hanna

would be too happy if I did that.

Well, frankly, I don't care

what makes Lieutenant Hanna happy or doesn't.

- Ward? - Mm-hmm?

Take a look.

What do you suppose this is all about?

Oh, hello, Mr. Bose.

Well, hello, Mrs. Fletcher.

- How are you? - Fine.

- Mr. Silloway. - Hello.

- Yeah. - Well, I wish we'd known you were here.

You could have joined us.

Yeah, thank you. That's too bad.

Well, Mrs. Byrne certainly looks happier

than she did the last time I saw her.

Well, I think it's a combination of good wine

and good company.

And good sport.

As I recall, you're the one that sold her the house

that she thought she bought.

Yes, but she doesn't hold a grudge.

The truth is, I think she thinks

I have some inside track on the Randall Estate

and that I can help her get her money back.

Please, don't tell her I can't.

Mr. Bose, I understand from Lieutenant Hanna

that you were the last person to see Clark Randall alive

the night that he was killed.

Except for the killer, of course.

Yes, of course.

Well, I guess I saw him around 3:00 that afternoon.

I drove him home from the sales trailer, in fact.

His car was in the shop, he said,

and his wife had the other car.

Anyway, I hope you'll excuse me.

I have a lady in waiting.

Take care. Goodbye.

Well, I don't know what you think,

but I think we ought to call Lieutenant Hanna.

Why?

Because two people are having dinner alone together?

Besides, the Lieutenant made it quite clear

that he wanted me to mind my own business.

The night is young, Pauline. What do you say?

A little dancing, a couple cocktails?

Oh, to tell you the truth, Sterling, I'm a little tired.

Oh, come on, honey. It's not even 9:30.

It's party time.

I'll catch you later, dude.

Okay, one dance, one drink.

Where do you wanna go?

My place.

Hello, this is Sterling Bose.

I'm out right now,

but if you'll leave your name and number

and the time you called,

I'll get back to you tout de suite. Ciao.

Sterling, Kay Weber here.

Look, I have to talk to you

about those sales contracts you filed with the bank.

Those auditors are giving me a hard time

about some of those people

I extended credit to on your recommendation.

Call me first thing tomorrow.

You've got my home phone number.

Honey, you're gonna wake up the neighborhood.

We gotta have some noise if we're gonna have a party.

We're gonna have a party in the driveway?

Wait a second.

Let's wait till we get inside, okay?

Good idea.

Honey, this is gonna be a night to remember.

Sterling, you are so right.

Pauline, what are you doing? What are you...

Pauline, come back here.

Damn it!

Mrs. Fletcher, what are you doing here?

Waiting for you.

I thought that Officer Kruger had explained.

Officer Kruger former Officer Kruger,

if I have anything to say about it,

was told to escort you back to your hotel.

But, apparently, you refused to go.

Well, I told him that I had a very important matter

to discuss with you and that if he wanted me to leave,

that he would have to physically remove me

from the premises.

Yes, I said something like that.

And who made you that coffee?

Oh, nobody. I brought it from the hotel.

Lieutenant, do you want to yell or do you want to listen?

Well, the last time I listened to you, ma'am,

it nearly cost me my badge.

Kruger, bring me some coffee! Crazy desert.

When the sun's down, you could freeze to death.

An hour later, you're getting sunburn.

What do you want, Mrs. Fletcher?

I couldn't sleep last night.

I kept reviewing the Randall murder.

I kept going back to when you arrived

and searched through Clark Randall's pockets.

What about it?

Well, it didn't mean anything to me then,

but you took something

from the inside pocket of his jacket.

You mean his passport?

Yes! I was almost sure that that's what it was.

Sorry, Lieutenant, coffee maker's broken.

We got a call in to maintenance.

No coffee?

This dump is getting worse every day.

Um...

you're very welcome to share some of mine.

No, thanks.

It's very good, very hot.

Well...

maybe... maybe just a half-cup.

Now what's this all about Randall's passport?

Well, the point is, you found his passport

in the inside pocket of his coat.

None of us thought much of it at the time,

but then, we didn't know

that three million dollars was missing.

He was going somewhere with the money.

If he hadn't already sent it on ahead

to a Swiss bank account,

something like that.

Either way, he was leaving. A flight out that night.

Only somebody changed his plans for him.

Lot of airlines out of the Springs, Mrs. Fletcher.

How about I call half and you call half?

You can use that phone right over there.

I'd be delighted, Lieutenant.

Right. Randall.

Clark Randall.

Uh-huh.

Out of LAX? Yes.

Yeah, I see.

Okay. Right.

I've got it. Thank you, Miss Peabody.

The night of the murder,

Clark Randall was booked on a flight out of LAX

to Buenos Aires.

The tickets were never picked up.

Tickets?

In the name of Mr. and Mrs. Clark Randall.

- Oh, no. - Oh, yes.

The agent had unclaimed tickets there as we spoke.

No, that isn't what I meant.

What I meant is that Marian had no idea

that her husband was leaving the country that night.

She'd been running around all day shopping,

visiting friends.

So this Mrs. Randall,

his traveling companion, was who?

Probably somebody who called him Clarksie.

Well, that could be the entire female population

of the Springs.

Yeah, Hanna.

Oh, yes, yes. Hello again, Miss Peabody.

It's the airline.

What?

You what?

You bet I'm interested.

No, no, no, no. You hang onto them, dear,

until I can send someone to L.A. to pick them up.

And thank you very much.

What was all that about?

Miss Peabody, dear, sweet thing,

wanted to know if she should

put those tickets through for cancellation

on the buyer's credit card.

Well, considering Clark Randall's financial situation,

dead or alive,

that doesn't seem to be a priority problem.

No, it wouldn't be

if the tickets had been charged to Clark Randall.

The fact is, they were bought by someone else,

ex-bank vice president Kay Weber.

Excuse me, Lieutenant. I'd like to finish my lesson.

You're finished.

Mrs. Fletcher and I wanna talk with you.

Poolside terrace, 15 minutes.

But I wasn't going away with Clark.

Oh, I see.

You just bought him and his wife

a couple of airline tickets

because you liked the smell of his cologne.

Ma'am, they have your signature

on the credit card receipt.

How the hell I got involved with that man,

I'll never know.

I want you to understand, Lieutenant, I hated it.

The sneaking around, lying to Marian,

but worst of all, knowing, though I couldn't prove it,

I wasn't the only one.

You killed them both, didn't you?

And then you took the money

that Clark stole from Golden Palms.

Don't be so stupid.

And I don't have the money.

Look, I fell in love with Clark

when he started doing business at my bank.

He promised to take me to Buenos Aires

for a holiday.

He was gonna tell Marian that he wanted a divorce

that night before we left.

But, Kay, these were one-way tickets.

I mean, didn't you question Clark about

coming back to his business or to yours?

I thought maybe we'd come back by boat.

He was gonna come by my place that night around 9:00,

and then we'd drive up to L.A. for the flight.

I was...

I was even at Clark's house that afternoon.

Marian came home about 15 minutes

after we'd gotten out of the hot tub.

I was sure she knew, but she never gave a sign.

God, was she dumb.

Or maybe not.

Look, if you wanna know the truth,

I always thought Clark told her about us,

or maybe she figured it out for herself.

I mean, either way, she grabbed a gun.

End of story.

And you just assumed all along

that Marian had killed Clark.

Well, it was late in the afternoon, around 5:00.

I mean, I left them there together.

Who else?

And you didn't say a word.

Excuse me, Lieutenant, but I was scared,

right down to my toenails.

If it came out about Clark and me,

I'd be a suspect, too.

It would have cost me my job, Lieutenant.

You know, the dumb thing is, I really loved him.

I knew what he was, but I loved him anyway.

We were all set for this trip.

Clark had already gotten a rental car

for the drive up to L.A.

it was parked outside his house.

Are you quite sure about that?

Sure, I'm sure. Peck Rent-a-Car.

I saw the bumper sticker.

Oh, but that doesn't make any sense.

What is it, Mrs. Fletcher?

Well, Sterling Bose told me

that Clark had had to have a ride

back from the office that afternoon

because his car was in the shop.

Now, if he had a rental car,

why did he have to ask Bose for a ride?

And not only that,

why would he park a rented car

out on the street in 100-degree heat

when there was plenty of room in the garage?

Here you are, Lieutenant.

Every car that was rented on Saturday the 8th.

Well, here's one that was supposed to be dropped off

at your L.A. airport lot.

But it was only driven 30 miles,

and it's about 100 from Palm Springs to L.A.

Let me see.

Oh, yes, I remember that one.

No, the customer never did go to L.A.

He just kept the car in town for one day

and then returned it.

Who rented it?

Invoice number 6475.

I'll check the billing files.

This is the contract.

Thank you.

I hope you both know that this is going to be

a long, drawn-out process.

Yes, I've warned my clients

not to expect anything concrete

for at least six months.

Let me know when the next hearing is.

- I wanna be there. - Certainly.

Jessica, there you are.

I was wondering what happened to you.

Lieutenant Hanna and I

were digging into the murder case.

Oh? Which one?

Both of them.

Excuse me, Miss Byrne.

I'd like you to come to my office.

There are a few questions I'd like to ask you,

if you don't mind.

Well, I certainly do mind. Questions about what?

About the murders

of Clark Randall and his wife, Marian.

This isn't exactly a request, ma'am.

I'm prepared to place you under arrest if necessary.

That's crazy. I never even saw Clark that day.

And what's all this about a trip to Buenos Aires?

Miss Byrne, despite the fact

that Kay Weber paid for those tickets,

the Lieutenant and I believe

that he was going to take you with him

when he left the country

with that stolen three million dollars.

Take me? Why would you think that?

Because your name's on a contract

from Peck Rent-a-Car, ma'am.

This guy was really something.

He covered his tracks with ten coats of paint.

Kay Weber bought the tickets,

and he got you to rent the car.

The man stole a hundred thousand dollars from me.

Yes, and you've made a big point

of telling us that every chance you get.

The grievously offended investor.

One would hardly believe that you were involved

in either his death or the theft of the money.

Oh, now I'm a thief as well as a murderer.

Mrs. Fletcher, I hope you have a very good lawyer.

Miss Byrne, we've talked with your doctor,

and he says that he's been prescribing Nardane for you

for the past seven years.

So I take Nardane.

So do half the women in this town. So what?

Did you know that Marian Randall

was allergic to it?

No, never asked.

Here you go, Lieutenant.

We found it in the lady's garage,

behind a tool chest.

And here's your warrant, signed by Judge Daly.

Just for the record, ma'am.

You know, I really thought I was gonna get away with it.

For the first time in my life, I thought,

"This time, I come out on top."

Why don't you tell us what happened?

Before I got there?

That, I can only guess at.

I was driving towards Clark's house around 5:30.

I was stopped at a stop sign when Kay Weber came by.

She never saw me.

I knew she'd just come from Clark's.

The car I'd rented for our drive to L.A.

was parked out on the street.

I thought Clark would be alone,

so I was surprised to hear Marian's voice.

Clark told Marian he was leaving her for another woman.

She demanded to know who the other woman was,

but Clark said he was going to pack.

He had a plane to catch that night.

Suddenly, Marian picked up his briefcase.

She asked him if he was taking his work with him.

He turned in a rage

and grabbed the case away from her.

When he started into the other room,

she reached into a cabinet,

pulled out a gun, and shot him in the back.

Then she fainted.

I couldn't believe what I'd seen.

I raced around to the kitchen door

and let myself in.

Clark was lying very still. I thought he was dead.

That's when I saw the money coming out of the case.

Just then, Clark moved.

He told me to call a doctor, fast.

I asked him where all the cash came from.

Clark said he took it from Golden Palms,

said he was getting out ahead.

He said it was ours, his and mine.

Funny, all the plans we'd made,

it was the first time he mentioned

he just happened to steal three million dollars.

Considering Clark's track record,

I knew he'd leave me for someone else.

If I called a doctor, it would mean the police,

questions about the money.

So I didn't phone a doctor.

I may have been broke most of my life,

but I was never stupid.

There was a pillow nearby. I picked it up.

He didn't have the strength to fight me off.

Meanwhile, there was Marian on the floor,

having passed out

thinking she'd shot and killed her husband.

I made up my mind not to do or say anything

to discourage that opinion.

So you took the cash and left?

You bet.

But you didn't take his watch

or the money from his wallet.

No, what for?

Wait a second.

If you didn't take them, Miss Byrne, who did?

Marian Randall.

What?

Think about it, Lieutenant. Marian wakes up.

She finds Clark dead.

She knows she shot him, assumes she's killed him.

She's in a panic. How can she explain it?

What story can she concoct?

- A break-in. - Exactly.

She takes the watch.

She leaves the watch where someone would find it,

the kind of person who'd pawn it.

Then she made a big show about hiring a detective

to find the stolen watch and prove she was innocent.

But you couldn't let that happen,

could you, Miss Byrne?

Because you'd overlooked something.

The briefcase.

When the embezzlement came out,

Marian might add things up.

She might remember the briefcase.

Missing money. Who took it?

You had to silence her.

And why not?

If she committed suicide,

it would only make her seem more guilty.

And once she was dead, the case would be closed.

I visited Marian on the pretext

of knowing something about Clark and the money.

I put the Nardane capsules in her drink

to make her drowsy.

Pills hit her hard.

She was practically out on her feet

before I got her into her car.

When I left her in that car, I thought I was home free.

Funny how things work out.

I never did have much luck.

Men, money, it's all the same.

Always has been.