All language subtitles for MrSWr6E06.Dead.Letter.

And you gave him the letter?

But I had no idea what was in it.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

People get late mail all the time.

It hardly ever kills them.

Yeah? So what makes you think it was arson?

It's always arson.

Your insurance company hounded me.

Fred, he's having a little trouble, yeah,

but it's nothing he can't handle.

Come on now, boys, fess up.

Which of you has a tender spot in his heart

for little Lois?

A gentleman never tells.

Someday that lousy temper of yours

is gonna get you killed.

Leave your sister alone, now, Anna.

Both of you, look over here. I'm gonna take your picture.

That's about all that old fire engine's

good for these days,

something for the kids to climb on.

Isn't it funny how they like to play fireman?

Not me.

I always liked to play doctor.

Took my first appendix out when I was six years old.

Oh, Seth.

Come and get it.

Quench your thirst with homemade lemonade.

Come and get it.

Quench your thirst with homemade lemonade.

Homemade lemonade here.

Now this is more like it.

State-of-the-art and fully equipped.

And she's got a siren

that'll peel the paint off of a red barn.

It's a dilly.

Now, is our new engine gonna look like this?

Bigger. No.

Oh, yeah! Oh!

Not quite as new, though, Mr. Mayor.

But she will throw more than 800 gallons per minute.

I can't wait.

Meantime, I'm going to buy this one for my office.

Some of the bigger kids

still like to play fireman, too.

You know, Seth,

the crowd seems thinner than last year, though.

Not to mention the pickings.

These golf clubs look as if they last saw action

during the Korean war.

Make that world war I.

Oh, hello, Lois.

Jessica! Dr. Hazlitt. Hello.

What do you think of the rummage sale?

Well...

it's a good day for it.

Oh, it's a lovely day for it.

Where's Bud?

Oh, he's hard at work.

He's in charge of second-hand furniture.

Oh!

You know, I wonder if he would have a small bureau.

Oh, I'm sure he does.

I saw a couple of them over there.

I could do with one for my guest room.

If you'll excuse me, I'll just go take a look.

If it's on par with the rest of this stuff,

there's no need to run.

Lois, I thought you'd like a lemonade.

Why, thank you, Ron.

That's very considerate of you.

It's my pleasure.

There it is. Perfect.

Well, beauty is obviously in the eyes of the beholder.

Well, I see what you mean.

It needs a lot of work, but it is the right size.

I could help you strip that down, Jessica.

Why, Stanley!

I didn't see you there. How are you?

Well, I'm better than I was,

and not as good as I'm gonna be.

Hello, Doc. Stanley.

You looking for bargains down there, too?

Well, one of my hobbies is fixing up fixer-uppers.

I don't know.

Do you think that this has possibilities?

Hmm.

We're not exactly talking chippendales, are we?

But, you know,

a couple of applications of my secret formula,

we could have it looking like an antique.

Stanley, you missed your calling.

You should've gone into furniture refinishing

instead of accounting.

Maybe I will someday.

You know, you should snap this up, Jessica.

$50.

Don't tell Bud, but that's a steal.

I'll grab it myself if you don't.

Well, consider it sold.

Now, if I can find Bud, I'll give him a check.

Carl Wilson, you're a liar and a thief!

Looks like you found him.

You knew that that printing shop

was gonna make money

before you bought my half of it!

It made money because I bought your half.

And at a good price, too!

And you already had those customers lined up,

didn't you?

You lost those customers

because of your penny-pinching ways.

And they all came back after you left.

You don't know anything about ethics.

And you don't know anything about running a business.

Carl, you bilked me real good,

and I'm not gonna forget it!

Honey, honey, honey, he gave us what we asked for.

Why are you always taking sides against me?

I thought a wife was supposed to stand behind a husband.

Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please!

It's time for the highlight of the afternoon.

A drill by the Cabot Cove volunteer fire department.

This is an exciting opportunity

to see our brave lads in action.

This is an exciting opportunity

to see our brave lads in action.

Well, come on, boys! Fire bell's ringing!

Well, did I tell you that this bed comes equipped

with the world's finest mattress set?

I have got one just like it.

I wouldn't sleep on anything else.

Oh, I don't know.

Well, it's not exactly what we had in mind.

Okay, I tell you what.

Now, I am partial to young folks

just starting out.

So I'm gonna make a special one-time discount of $30.

What do you say?

- Well, $30 could... - I don't know.

Um, listen, suppose I let you sit down right here

and take a few minutes and just think about it.

Jessica, don't tell me.

You've finally decided to get rid of that old sofa?

Not as long as I can still make slipcovers.

Actually, Fred,

I came to see you about the rummage sale.

Oh, well, the Mayor already told me

how much we raised.

It was exactly $2,600.13.

Well, actually, $2,650.13.

I bought a small bureau,

but Bud Fricksey left in a huff

before I could pay him.

And since you're the treasurer of the fund,

I thought I'd bring the check to you.

Well, see, I have got this young couple

sniffing around that god-awful bedroom set

that I got stuck with last year.

So, why don't you take that check in to Stanley

and let him give you a receipt?

Oh, all right.

Oh, and thank you, Jessica.

You're welcome.

All right,

$35 discount, my final offer.

What do you say?

Uh-huh. Well, I...

I showed... I showed your bill to Fred,

and he said it just skipped his mind.

Yeah, well, Fred writes all the checks around here,

and he said he'd shoot one right out to you.

I'll see that you get it,

hand-delivered first thing in the morning.

Yeah, nice to talk to you, too, Mr. Phelps.

Beside doing the books here, I'm the chief diplomat.

Well, I didn't come here to get a check, Stanley,

I came here to give you a check

for that small bureau that I bought at the rummage sale.

Oh, that's right, that's right.

Bud Fricksey never did come back

after he stomped out.

I don't know how that man can live

with that self-righteous temper.

I'll get you a receipt here.

Oh, my.

What a lovely photograph of Marjorie.

That's my future you're holding.

Yes, I understand you two are engaged.

Have you set the date?

Soon as I can get some time off.

The way things are going around here,

I'm not sure when that's gonna be.

Is something wrong?

Nothing to trouble you with.

You're gonna be very happy

with the little bureau you bought.

Just come on by my place,

and I'll give you some of my secret stripping mixture.

Thanks, Stanley.

Well, it is too big for a planter.

Well, it's got nice, wide drawers.

Oh, it's stuck!

Here, let me have a look at it.

I wouldn't put my socks in there.

You'd never get them out.

Oh, no wonder it was stuck.

There's something wedged in here.

A letter! Addressed to Bud Fricksey!

Postmarked Boston six months ago.

Never even been opened.

How do you suppose it got in there?

Well, there's no return address.

This looks like a woman's handwriting.

Uh-huh!

And what is that supposed to mean?

Well, Bud is a married man.

Oh, for heaven's sakes.

This could have come from a bank.

With no return address?

Now that sounds more like a savings and loan.

What are you gonna do with it?

Well, it's pretty late,

but I suppose I better give it to Bud Fricksey.

I'd be careful, Jess.

If that's an unpaid bill, he'll not thank you.

I know mail service is bad,

but this is rotten.

I mean, looks like it's been through a wringer.

Where did you say you got this?

Well, I found it in this old bureau

that I bought at the rummage sale.

That's very weird.

Bud?

What?

I'm sorry. I hope it's not bad news.

No.

No, it's nothing that I can't handle.

Please excuse me, Jessica.

I've got things to take care of.

I just can't get the hang of this.

Here, let me help.

You can let go of my hand now, Ron.

Oh, yeah. Sorry.

It's okay, Ron. No need to be sorry.

I didn't take any offense.

It's just I'm not very good with mechanical things.

Bud says I'm real clumsy, not much good for anything.

Yeah, well, Bud ought to get his head examined.

Thanks, Ron.

I guess I'm just a slow learner.

Thank you. Get in the car!

Bud! I said get in the car!

Bud, what are you, crazy?

Don't you argue with me!

Get in the car, and you drive home!

You listen to me!

Hey, Bud, wait. What's the matter with you?

You think I don't know what's going on here?

How'd you like it if I ripped this place apart?

Well, I'd like it just fine. I'd go fishing.

But my old man who owns the place

would be a little bit sore.

Bud, I don't know what you're thinking...

I told you to drive home. Now, get in the car and drive!

What's your problem?

I'm warning you, stiller. You stay away from my wife.

You're crazy. Go home and sober up.

You listen to me, Bud.

Someday that lousy temper of yours

is gonna get you killed.

And I'll tell you something else.

If you ever grab me like that again,

I'll be the one that does it.

You go near my wife, and I'm telling you,

it's gonna be me that's doing the killing.

And you count on it!

We've got a big decision to make here tonight, folks.

And what big decision is that, Mr. Mayor?

We've got to pick a new fire chief.

What's the matter with the old fire chief?

I think that Carl Wilson has done a fine job.

Yeah, and he's a great guy.

Now hold on! I didn't say a word against Carl.

I want him to stay, but he's got some crazy idea.

He wants to devote more time to his family.

All I can say is it's a good thing some of us

aren't that selfish.

Do you happen to have another candidate in mind, Sam?

Well, as a matter of fact forget it, Sam.

You're already spreading yourself

too thin on this one job.

Hey, what about Adele?

She taught fire training in the marines.

Adele? Your wife?

Oh, I don't know about that.

I think it's a wonderful idea.

Why shouldn't the fire chief be a woman?

No, no, wait a second.

I withdraw the nomination.

I just thought.

I don't want my wife hanging around a firehouse

all day playing pinochle.

Good point.

That's the fire alarm! Oh, my!

I can't see anything.

Maybe it's a false alarm.

This is the Mayor.

Where's the fire? I'm on my way.

Fred Owens' furniture store is up in flames.

Better hurry if you don't wanna miss it.

Get all these people back from here.

Move back, folks. Come on. Move back!

Nothing else to see here. It's all over. Go on home.

Okay, boys.

Let's go inside with the fire extinguishers.

This always happened to me, even as a kid.

Soon as I'd get there, the fire'd be out.

Next time, have them notify in advance.

Oh, good idea. Funny, Doc, very funny.

Well, looks like they made it here in time.

The building doesn't seem to be very damaged.

Though it's strange. I don't see Fred Owens.

You'd think he'd be here.

Cover every inch of this place.

Get the hot spots.

Chief! In here!

My God! Somebody was in here.

Bud Fricksey!

Doc, you'd better get in here!

Yeah.

Too late.

Smoke inhalation.

Must have been trapped by the fire.

Yeah.

Yes, but what was he doing here?

Dispatcher said it was Bud who phoned in the alarm.

Here's his extinguisher.

His car's outside.

Probably spotted the flames,

sounded the alarm and rushed in here

to fight the fire himself.

Without even his helmet.

He was the best we had.

Why, if it weren't for this fine, courageous man,

the whole town could have burned down.

We owe Bud Fricksey our very lives.

He was a great hero.

And the Mayor wants to put a statue of him

next to the firehouse

and re-dedicate

the fire engine fund in his name.

Well, that's a great honor.

Yeah, but what a crummy way to die.

Snuffed out by spontaneous combustion.

That wasn't spontaneous combustion, sheriff.

That was arson.

Oh, is that so?

Connie Kowalski, mutual fidelity insurance.

Thanks. Already got a piece of the rock.

I'm a claims investigator, sheriff, not an agent.

Yeah? So what makes you think it was arson?

It's always arson.

I've already sent some things to my Boston lab for analysis,

including several cushions

with some very suspicious stains.

Hold it, honey.

Are you telling me you removed evidence?

That you didn't spot.

But you gotta know what to look for,

and that's a job for an expert.

Oh, and I suppose that's you?

Take a look at these.

Notice how all the records

in the office have been destroyed?

The charred filing cabinets.

Well, she's got a point there, sheriff.

You burn the evidence. You hide the motive.

I've investigated dozens of these.

You've botched this one so far, buddy boy,

but I'm gonna clear it up for you.

Look, sweetie-pie, this is my town.

And if there's gonna be an investigation,

I'll run it my way.

Don't think you can just waltz in here and take over.

Look, Metzger, I've got work to do.

I don't have time to stand around listening

to your dumb speeches,

'cause I'm gonna be too busy trying to save your fanny.

Unless you'd like to come along to help?

Hey, wait a...

wait a...

did you hear...

wait a minute!

Hey! Don't touch that.

That's evidence, and this is a fire scene!

What are you doing here?

What's your name, mister?

Fred Owens.

He's the owner of the place.

Oh, yeah.

Well, Connie Kowalski, mutual fidelity insurance.

Gee, Fred, somebody did a real good job here.

It started over there and there,

probably fueled by gasoline or kerosene.

I'll know better in a couple of hours.

And I know you don't know a thing about it,

but just for the record, where were you last night?

Well, I... hold it!

This happens to be a prominent citizen.

A pillar of the community.

Now, you can't just come in here

and badger him like this.

Thank you, sheriff.

Okay, so where were you last night, Fred?

I was out of town.

I had a business meeting.

You got a hotel receipt to prove that?

Ah... no.

You see, halfway to Augusta,

I discovered that I'd forgotten my briefcase,

so then I had to come back.

Imagine that.

Is there anyone who can vouch for that?

Um...

well, I was alone.

Come on, Fred.

Only fire in the past year, it's your place,

and you just happen to be out of town?

Don't you think that's a little suspicious?

And another thing, maybe nobody told you.

A man died in the fire.

Stanley? No. Bud Fricksey.

Bud is dead?

Oh, that's awful.

And if what this lady says is true,

if it was arson,

that means it was also second-degree murder.

If?

Without my arson, you got nothing, buddy boy.

Well, you are absolutely wrong.

My business was in wonderful shape.

Why, last week alone, I sold three bedroom sets.

Well, that's real interesting,

but you know what's even more interesting?

You recently doubled your coverage.

Because your insurance company

hounded me to death.

Day and night, phone calls, letters,

they would not leave me alone!

"Adjust for inflation," they said.

So I did it.

And now,

all of a sudden, I am a criminal.

Oh, Sir. Sir, please.

Really, there's no need to become abusive.

I'm only here to get the facts.

And if you've got nothing to hide,

then there should be no problem.

No problem at all.

Jess, there are times

when I think that you won't be satisfied

till you prove that everybody in the cemetery

was a victim of foul play.

But don't you think it's a bit coincidental

that the very day I give Bud a dead letter,

he wound up dead?

Well, the letter had nothing to do with it.

It couldn't be simpler.

Man sees fire.

Man tries to fight fire. Man dies.

Now that is all there is to it.

I wish I could believe that.

Oh, for pity's sake, Jess.

People get late mail all the time.

It very seldom kills them.

Tuesday, I got four postcards

my cousin Willie sent from Paris.

And cousin Willie has been home in skowhegan

for six weeks.

Oh, you're right, Seth.

I'm making entirely too much of this.

I wonder where that bureau came from.

You bet I'm enjoying my retirement.

I got so much to do

I don't know how I found time to work in the post office.

Well, it hasn't been the same without you, Agnes,

and that's for sure.

Well, I know. They brought it up to date.

All new furnishings.

Not like that old stuff that I had to bring from home.

Including the small bureau?

Yeah.

I heard you bought that at the rummage sale.

I was almost ashamed to give it to them,

it was in such bad shape.

You know, I found an envelope,

a letter that wedged in the drawer.

Well, that's why it wouldn't close.

I thought it was warped.

Maybe you remember it, Agnes.

It was addressed to Bud Fricksey

in a woman's handwriting.

It must have been mailed six months ago.

I near forgot about it.

Now, the fact is that Lois Fricksey...

wrote that letter

when she was visiting her sister in Boston.

Now, there's something right up your alley, Jessica.

In what way, Agnes?

It's a real mystery.

No sooner did that letter arrive,

than Lois was on the phone,

saying she had second thoughts.

Begged me to tear it up.

Well, you couldn't do that.

Postal regulations.

Course, there was nothing to say

that I couldn't file it

in my own private little dead letter office.

The minute I put the letter in the mailbox,

I knew I shouldn't have written it.

I thought Agnes destroyed it months ago.

I'm surprised that you didn't ask her about it.

I was too embarrassed.

I went to stay with my sister in Boston

because my marriage was going sour.

I...

I sorted things out, and I came to a decision.

I couldn't tell Bud about it. I couldn't even telephone him.

I... I thought a letter

would be the best way to say it.

I told him...

I told him I didn't love him anymore,

that there was another man.

Oh, I see.

I told him this other man

was patient, kind,

understanding, generous.

Everything that Bud wasn't.

Thank goodness he never read it.

Lois, I... i'm so sorry,

but, you see, when I found the letter,

I had no way of knowing what was in it.

And, well,

it was addressed to Bud,

so, uh,

I went to see him.

And you gave him the letter?

But I had no idea what was in it.

And then, when he opened it...

you saw him read it?

When was this?

It was the day after the rummage sale.

Well, now I understand his erratic,

crazy behavior at the gas station.

He was in a jealous rage.

He must have been spying on me.

I am so sorry.

If I'd known...

No, no, Jessica. It's not your fault.

It's a stupid mistake I made months ago

that's come back to haunt me.

It's just so humiliating.

Well, I'm glad no one else knows about it.

If Bud didn't tell you that I'd given him the letter...

He didn't.

Well, then, where is it?

Yeah, I found the letter in his pocket,

but you can forget about keeping it private.

Oh, but, sheriff...

I mean, making the contents public

doesn't serve any useful purpose.

Might help find that other fellow

Lois was writing about.

Well, for what earthly reason?

Well, check out this storyline.

Bud knows who's playing Pat-a-cake with his wife,

and he goes gunning for the guy.

Now, loverboy doesn't like the idea of being killed

by a jealous husband,

so he strikes first.

There's something that you two haven't told me.

Bud's death had nothing to do with the fire, Jess.

The coroner says he was killed by a severe blow to the head.

And Lois Fricksey's letter

tells us exactly where to look for the killer.

Yeah.

Seems her mysterious boyfriend

is a member of the volunteer fire department.

Oh, come on, Mrs. Fricksey.

I'm not asking you

for the name of your hairdresser!

I'm looking for the guy

who punched out your husband's lights.

I'm sorry, sheriff.

I can't tell you his name. It just wouldn't be fair.

Fair?

Ma'am, we're talking murder here.

And if you don't tell me who the guy is,

I will give you a personal tour of the Cabot Cove clink.

Lois, the sheriff didn't really mean that,

not exactly.

I'm sorry, Jessica.

I can't help you.

Please don't ask me.

Your friend,

this man that you mentioned in your letter to Bud,

maybe he was upset

when you returned to your husband.

I mean, isn't that a reasonable assumption?

Yes. Yes, I suppose so.

I mean, maybe he thought

that he'd have a better chance with you

if Bud was no longer in the way.

No, Jessica.

He couldn't possibly do a thing like that.

I mean, Bud was capable of hurting him,

but he could never have hurt Bud.

I mean, he's muscular and strong,

but he's...

he's sensitive and caring,

and he's dedicated to peace and nonviolence.

Good,

because Bud wasn't hit by Winnie the Pooh.

One whack and his immortal soul

went through the pearly gates and onto the heavenly green.

Now what did I say?

I was not putting down women.

I just said I never questioned a man

who turned on the sniffles.

Sheriff,

someone waiting to see you.

Well, Metzger!

Gee, it's about time you showed up.

Must be nice being a small-town sheriff,

nothing to do but goof off.

Oh, yeah, yeah, that's about it,

except for trying to catch a killer.

Turns out our dead fireman was murdered.

Am I supposed to be surprised?

Pardon me, we haven't met. I'm Jessica Fletcher.

Oh, yeah!

Oh, I've heard a lot about you, Jessica,

but I'm not intimidated.

Connie Kowalski, mutual fidelity.

Sheriff Metzger tells me

that you're looking for evidence of arson?

Wrong. I found it.

Remember those stains on the pillows?

Lab says they were benzene.

Oh, yeah?

Well, then, I suppose

you're both looking for the same person.

Wrong mo. Arsonists don't kill.

What about the killer

who covers the murder with a fire?

Oh, come on, get real.

This is a classic case.

I mean, the business goes bust, businessman goes for a torch.

Yes, but that hasn't been proven.

And it still doesn't explain

why a dead body was found at the scene.

Well, that's not my problem.

Look, no offense, but I'll go my way,

and the sheriff from flatbush can go his,

and we'll see who can make a case.

You're on, lady!

You don't know who you're dealing with here.

No?

Metzger, there's a cop just like you

grabbing free apples off

of every fruit stand in Brooklyn.

See you.

Did you hear that?

Can't make a case out of it?

What am I laughing for? I can't make a case out of it.

I mean, I got nothing.

I got the widow Fricksey,

who's got a boyfriend, identity unknown,

who is a member of the volunteer fire department.

And the fire was started with benzene.

And the fire was started with benzene.

So what does that give me?

Well, now let's think.

Now, where would we find benzene?

Didn't Lois say something about Bud's jealous rage

in a gas station?

Sure, that's it! That's my case.

A gas station.

And which volunteer fireman runs a gas station?

Ron Stiller.

Sorry, sheriff, he's not here.

Not here?

This is Saturday afternoon. Where is he?

His cousin said he was called to the firehouse.

An important meeting or something.

Here's your two dollars and I'll raise you two.

Too much for me. I'm out.

Me, too.

Nine-high straight.

Flush.

Like I was saying, boys, it's one of us.

I mean, one of you.

Lois Fricksey's boyfriend is a fireman.

You gotta be kidding.

Whoever told you that's a dirty-minded liar.

Mort Metzger told me.

Come on now, boys, fess up.

Which of you has a tender spot in his heart for little Lois?

A gentleman never tells.

Me, neither.

Don't look at me.

I'm a happily married man.

Who dealt this mess?

Jacks or better to open.

Check.

I open for 50 cents.

Well, now let's see.

Who is Lois' type?

Well, there's sure nobody here like Bud.

Thank the Lord.

She'd probably want to have somebody different, anyhow.

Nobody here more different than Sam.

Bite your tongue, Everett carbody.

Seems to me, I've seen you

glancing in Lois' direction more than once.

Won't say yes, won't say no.

What does she say?

What do you say, Jack?

I'll raise it a quarter.

Yeah, Lois is a pretty good-looking woman.

Sets a nice table, lots of goodies.

Well, I think you're bluffing...

especially about the goodies.

He wishes.

How about you, Ron? What? Oh!

Didn't I hear about some kind of ruckus

between you and Bud over at the gas station?

Fold.

Come to think of it,

I recall you and Bud were going at it

at the rummage sale.

Not over Lois.

Though I think she'd be worth fighting for.

Am I right, Ron?

Keep your opinions to yourself, Carl.

What are you getting all hot and bothered about?

I don't like all this talk about Lois.

Oh, come on, now, we're just having fun.

Yeah, about a woman who just lost her husband.

You're making her out to be some kind of...

Sorry to intrude, gentlemen.

Oh, sheriff,

this isn't what it seems to be, is it, boys?

No, of course not. Assuredly not.

All right.

Ron Stiller, I'm taking you in for questioning

about the murder of Bud Fricksey.

What? What, you think I did it?

That's crazy. Why would I kill Bud?

Hey, look, you guys got it all wrong.

I mean, sure, I liked Lois ever since high school.

But she never... excuse me.

Why don't we talk about this in my office?

Deal him out.

I'm sure you're following some sort of logic, sheriff,

but Ron Stiller is not my idea of a secret lover.

Okay, so he's no Tom Selleck,

but he admits having a crush on the lady.

And at the gas station,

there's a barrel of benzene the size of a quonset hut.

And how about the witnesses who saw him in a shouting match

with Bud Fricksey?

It all adds up.

Yeah, to about six pounds of baloney.

Face it, flatbush,

you just made the worst move

since the dodgers packed up and went to LA.

I just knew you were gonna be a sore loser.

Hey, who lost?

Look, you went after a shark and came back with a guppy.

I got the big one. Stanley Holmes.

Fred Owens' bookkeeper,

and my witness.

Your pillar of the community

owes money all over this town.

His suppliers are threatening to cut him off.

He's behind on his mortgage.

The gas and electric

have already sent him final notices,

and any day now,

the water's gonna be cut off.

Well, tell him, Stanley.

Well, Fred,

he's having a little trouble, yeah,

but it's nothing he can't handle.

No, tell them what you told me.

Fred's facing a state audit,

and he asked me to doctor his books.

I turned him down.

What did I tell you?

You scratch a failing businessman,

you get a fire.

Fred's always been good to me,

and he loves his business.

And I'm sure no matter how desperate he is,

he wouldn't burn his business down.

Even supposing he had a motive for the fire?

Oh, you can bet your jogging suit on that.

Is that a motive for murder?

You want motive?

I'll give you motive.

Fred is dousing the place with benzene

when this Bud guy comes in and catches him at it.

So, naturally, Fred decks him

with the nearest available blunt instrument.

Well, you may be absolutely right,

miss Kowalski,

but, personally,

I have a big problem with a certain letter.

Jessica, I wish you'd called.

Lois, I hate to bother you again,

but you're the only one who can help.

Oh, you're right. I should've called.

I'm sorry. Forgive me for intruding.

Oh, no, wait, Jessica, please.

This is not what it seems.

I just dropped by

to offer my heartfelt condolences to Lois.

And she noticed that I had a loose button on my shirt,

so she offered to sew it on tight for me.

Well, surely you don't think that Carl and I...

Oh, no.

You mustn't let yourself be fooled by appearances, Jessica.

I am, as you know, a family man.

And if you ladies will excuse me,

I've gotta be running along.

Jessica, come in, please.

People have been so kind to me lately.

Mostly men, mostly firemen.

Sit down, Jessica.

Thank you. Yes.

Speaking of firemen, Ron Stiller has been arrested.

Arrested?

But Carl... for what?

Sheriff Metzger thinks that he killed Bud.

Ron?

Ron couldn't do a thing like that.

He's too kind, and gentle, and understanding.

Lois, forgive me, your personal life is your own.

If a murder were not involved, I wouldn't be here,

but it seems to me that the characteristics

that you describe fit the secret lover

that you describe in your letter to Bud.

Ron Stiller is not the man.

No, I don't think he is.

Neither is Carl Wilson,

nor any of the firemen.

Every time you talked about him,

he became more extraordinary...

and more ideal.

In fact, so ideal, I...

I have to wonder if, in fact, he really exists at all.

There never was a lover, was there, Lois?

You only wanted Bud to think so.

Oh, Lord.

I am so ashamed.

I was just trying to attract Bud's attention.

I wanted him to look at me

and think about me.

And then I lost my courage.

That's when I begged Agnes to destroy the letter.

When I came back from Boston, nothing had changed.

It only changed after you gave Bud the letter.

Changed?

In what way?

He scared me.

His jealousy became so intense it terrified me.

That wasn't what I wanted.

What did you want, Lois?

I wanted it...

I wanted it to be the way it used to be.

But I'm stupid.

I should have realized it was too late for that.

It's a nice picture, though, huh?

Yes.

It's a lovely picture.

Oh, dear.

Sorry, Jessica.

Did I say something?

Oh, no, no, no. It's just...

Thank you, Lois.

It was right in front of me all the time.

Or I should say, it wasn't in front of me.

Lois,

you'll never know what a big help you've been.

Stanley?

Hello, Jessica.

Surely you didn't refinish all these pieces.

Yep.

Oh, this coffee table is beautiful.

And these captain's chairs?

Yeah.

The... the table's for Alice Brimley.

The chairs are for Marjorie and me.

I'm still looking for a table to match.

Oh, this benzene really smells, doesn't it?

Oh, is this the secret stripping mixture

you told me about?

It's part of it.

As soon as you called, I mixed you a bottle.

I've got it in the house. Come on.

It's time for me to take a break, anyway.

Yes, I could do with a drink of water.

It's so hot today.

Well, I just made some lemonade

this morning.

If you need more sugar, just let me know.

Oh, no, no, I'm sure it's fine.

Stanley, I'm sure you realize

that if Fred Owens is tried for arson,

or possibly murder,

you'll have to testify against him.

Yeah, and I'd hate to do that.

You wanna sit down, Jessica?

Thank you.

I mean, I don't suppose there's a man in town

that I like more than Fred.

He just... he doesn't have a head for business.

Well, I must confess

that I'm not too good at it, either.

I paid much too much for that small bureau

because you told me that it was worth $50.

Well, it will be, when it's fixed up.

Ah!

We were seeing it from a different perspective.

I mean, maybe that's the way you and Fred saw the business.

Fred thought that the business was prospering.

'Cause he never looked at the accounts

or listened to me.

I tried to tell him it was going downhill

time and again.

He just wouldn't pay the bills.

The day of the fire,

I heard you tell someone on the telephone

that Fred was the one who wrote all the checks.

But when the sheriff mentioned that to Fred,

he was astonished.

That's what I pay you to do, Stanley.

Oh, God.

Fred, uh...

Of course, what I... what I meant was that...

that he signs them.

Yes, I sign them

after you fill them out for me.

Of course, it never occurred to me

to check to see where they were going

or who they were made out to.

I mean, why should I? I trusted you.

But do you know something?

When I checked with the bank,

I found out there were checks made out to people

and to places that I never heard of.

You set up dummy accounts in Portland and Augusta

and then banked the money yourself.

There's a word for that, Stanley.

Embezzlement.

And the audit would have shown that.

So you had to get rid of the books.

No, that's... that's not true.

I'm afraid it is, Stanley.

That's why you slipped back to the store that night.

You didn't even have to break in.

You knew that Fred was out of town

and you had a key.

But I didn't go near the office

the night of the fire.

Oh, but you did,

and the proof is right here.

The photograph of your fiancé.

This photograph.

It was missing the night of the fire,

because...

you couldn't bear to let it burn.

But this is just a copy.

Oh, is it a copy of the frame, too?

It's very distinctive,

with the same little Nick in the corner.

Do you remember that, Fred?

I sure do.

It all started when I met Marjorie.

She's a wonderful woman.

She just has expensive tastes.

She didn't like my old car.

She wanted a sleek foreign model.

She didn't like my house, or Cabot Cove, either.

She wants to live in a condo in New York.

She...

it just snowballed.

I mean, once I started taking, I...

I couldn't stop.

I'm sorry, Fred.

And are you sorry about Bud Fricksey, too?

More than...

more than anything, I... i...

I can't believe this.

I...

I started the fire in the front of the store

and worked my way back to the office,

thinking that it would take longer

for the furniture to catch.

It would be a simple matter

to burn the files and the accounts.

I heard a crash.

I just thought it was a part of the fire,

and I...

was almost done...

I... I was just ready to light a match,

and I looked up, and there was Bud.

I don't know which of us was more shocked.

I hit him with the...

can.

The way he fell, I was sure he was dead,

but what if he wasn't?

So I picked up the phone to call,

and...

then I saw Marjorie...

looking at me from the knapsack.

And I...

just did what I...

I had to do.

I...

God help me.

You got a better chance with him

than you have with a jury.

Ladies and gentlemen,

attention, please.

Attention.

Come on, friends and neighbors,

listen up, now.

Attention, please.

There comes a time when mere words fail us.

Let this be one of those times.

So let me say

that it is with great pride

that I accept this magnificent firefighting machine

on behalf of the volunteer fire department of Cabot Cove.

Words are about to fail him again.

Thank you, thank you.

And now I have the pleasure

of performing another happy task,

that of introducing you to your new fire chief...

Ron Stiller!

And now, let's see what she can do!

Volunteers to action!