All language subtitles for MrSWr6E15.The.Fixer-Upper.

Vicky's a sweet little thing,

but totally over her head in real estate.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

Why did she have to get into a profession

that's so insecure?

Unlike acting.

Sweet little Victoria is a suspect

in the death of Deborah Tarkington.

Howard isn't a suspect.

I get to decide who the suspects are.

The first sign of trouble, you ran like a scared rabbit.

The man is a legend.

I wanted to meet his daughter.

The things I do for an exclusive.

Such a fine young man.

I'm sure he would have had a grand life.

I would have never believed this new virus

could work so fast and be so fatal.

Hey, wait a minute! What's going on here?

Hey, look, I agreed to do a hospital scene

because you promised me a speedy recovery.

We all gotta go sometime.

Yeah, but in the next script I'm on the road to recovery.

I guess you didn't get the new pages, Howie.

Are you trying to tell me that I'm fired?

I prefer to think of you as dead.

Hey, but your wife's in real estate, isn't she?

The way house prices are going,

it's practically a license to steal.

You can't put a $3 million ceiling on your offer

if you want something decent in today's market.

My husband would kill me.

He thinks houses are overpriced,

and he says you real estate people

are out to gouge every last penny.

Let me guess, your husband's a doctor.

You sure this is the Errol Flynn house?

Pretty sure. It's on the map here somewhere.

Errol Flynn, huh?

Boy, if these walls could talk.

Uh, excuse me.

I hate to disturb you, but isn't this a beautiful home?

Oh, gorgeous.

Well, I was wondering, is that your new Rolls-Royce

out front blocking the driveway?

Heavens, no.

No, I drive a Volkswagen bug.

Real honey of a car. Had it for 20 years.

Sorry.

Gonna be hard to sell, you know.

But the asking price is so low.

Relatively speaking, that is.

Can't even build a tennis court here.

No resale value at all.

You blew it, kid.

Take it from an old pro,

there's always room for a tennis court.

Where, Didi?

Squeeze it in anywhere.

If only tennis courts didn't have to be rectangular.

Why can't they be kidney-shaped?

Yeah, I know, it's tough.

Look, next time, try the fitness approach.

- Fitness? - Yeah.

Tell them the one about the health nut

who dropped dead playing doubles.

But the man did have his heart set on a tennis court.

Honey, if you start worrying what the buyer wants,

you're gonna starve to death in this town.

Now, go find him, make him feel guilty

for looking without buying.

Go ahead.

- All right. - You'll be fine.

Alec, it's not gonna work.

- If she sees you here... - In this car?

Look, with these dark glasses on and her eyesight,

she'll never know it's me.

Just go in and make the offer.

Look, there's gotta be a better way than this.

I mean, she'll know.

Arnold, you worry too much.

Just go in and make the offer.

Now.

Deborah Tarkington.

Ah, Mrs. Griffin.

Mr. Hastings.

I believe you have the listing on this property?

Yes, I do.

Well, I thought we might talk about a full-price offer.

Really?

Hastings, out of my house!

- Now, Deborah... - Out!

You think I don't see that louse

sitting out there in that wreck?

- But just listen... - Out, out, out, out!

But, Deborah, if you'd just...

If I ever, ever see his dissipated face

of my property again,

I will turn the dogs loose on him!

But if...

I hired you to sell my house fast, but not to that jerk.

I thought that your fresh-scrubbed innocence

might be a welcome change

from the sharks I usually deal with.

But if you can't deliver a buyer,

I will find someone who can.

But he made a full-price offer.

Well, you check the fine print on our agreement.

You will see that

it says I will sell to anyone except Alec Burton.

You know, if it were left up to me, I'd sell it to anyone.

Mom knows who she likes, and I know who I like.

Will you excuse me for a moment?

I... I...

I think I saw a potential buyer outside.

Aunt Jess. Vicky!

How are you? I'm fine.

Good to see you. I'm so sorry.

I've been having a little crisis.

Oh, nothing serious, I hope.

Not really. Just business.

I've been trying to sell a house for $4.9 million.

For $4.9 million you could buy Cabot Cove!

The house you're selling must be a mansion.

Not really. But it is a nice fixer-upper.

The trouble is,

my exclusive expires at midnight.

Oh, dear.

But where's Howard?

Oh, he had an audition he couldn't miss.

Well, we'll be seeing each other for dinner tonight.

We'll catch up on everything then.

But I thought that

Howard had a steady job on a TV series.

Oh, he did.

He decided that he wanted something livelier.

Howard loves acting so much.

Almost as much as he loves me.

Is that a problem?

No, really.

Whatever Howard wants is fine with me.

I just don't know if I'm ready for real estate.

Is anyone?

Oh, dear.

Oh, aunt Jess, I'm so sorry,

but I'm gonna have to make a phone call.

Oh, don't apologize.

I understand the demands of business.

I have to meet a bunch of booksellers this afternoon.

- Okay, I'll be right back. - All right.

Why didn't you stand your ground?

At the first sign of trouble, you ran like a scared rabbit.

She threw me out.

Oh, Arnold, really.

There's no need to panic.

I mean, the property hasn't been sold.

Nothing has been signed yet.

Just make sure when something is,

it's got my name on it.

Claire, light a fire under your husband, please.

There goes commission on nearly five million bucks.

I mean, I could have had a new car.

For God's sakes,

get rid of that defeatist attitude.

Listen, as long as she hasn't found another buyer,

anything is possible.

Now what are you taking?

Diet pills.

And you'll never guess who turned me onto them.

Deborah Tarkington.

She's lost ten pounds.

If I could lose five, I'd take arsenic.

Well, if you two girls are such good buddies,

how come you can't wangle her signature

on a sales contract?

Arnold, sometimes you amaze me how you insist

on keeping your eye on the mudhole,

when it should be on the shooting star.

Just what is that supposed to mean?

Well, to put it another way,

you are content

to collect a couple of golden eggs

when, with a little ingenuity,

you could have the whole goose.

Cheers.

I don't understand, Mr. Gordon.

Everyone needs a house.

You decided to buy a yacht?

I see.

You figure you can sail around the world

for several years, with a full crew,

and it'll still be cheaper than a house in Beverly Hills.

Well, if you ever decide to live on land again,

you have my number.

Bon voyage.

Let's go fishing sometime, darling.

- Fishing? - Yeah!

Oh, I'm a great fisherman.

But every time you get a nibble, it's off the hook

before you can get it into the boat.

I'm sorry, Didi.

I guess I'm just a lousy real estate agent.

The worst I've ever seen.

It's unheard of to have an open house

on the last day of your exclusive.

Half the people there were brokers,

urging their clients

to wait a day to make an offer. Hmm?

Alec Burton made an offer

through Arnold Hastings of the full asking price.

I couldn't believe it when Deborah turned it down.

She seemed so bitter.

Mmm. You don't know about that.

It happened before you were born.

You see, Alec Burton was a young, ambitious actor

with no credits to speak of.

Deborah, daughter of movie mogul Harry Tarkington,

pressured her father

into giving Alec his first break.

Guns of San Simeon.

It made him an overnight star.

Came the Dawn, he dumped Deborah like a two-bit stock option.

Well, that doesn't sound very smart

if her father was so powerful.

Her father? You gotta be kidding.

That picture broke all box-office records.

The day Alec dumped Deborah,

Harry Tarkington signed him to a three-picture deal.

And that, my dear, is showbiz.

Precious premises, Victoria Griffin speaking.

Yes, I'm the little gal

who's handling the Tarkington estate.

Who is this, please?

This is Seymour Densch,

the hottest car dealer in Orange County.

Oh, you probably heard of me. I do my own commercials.

I'm sorry, Mr. Densch, I've never...

You know that open house at the Tarkington estate?

I was there.

I liked what I saw.

I want to buy it, lock, stock and barrel.

The sticker is, what, $4.9 million?

Yes, but...

Okay, knock off a mil, you got a deal.

I don't haggle.

Well, I'll have to talk to the owner.

Sure, talk, talk. But get back to me.

Call me at 555-4990.

If she says yes, I'll need a binder check.

I'll do better than that. I'll give you cash, all cash.

Listen, I gotta go.

The customers are beating down my door.

But where do you...

Look, look, look, look, just nail it down.

The Tarkington estate,

right after I close here, 11:00 p.m.

Seymour Densch, I love you.

She's 30 minutes late.

You don't suppose anything's happened to her?

Well, she may be busy.

You know, the exclusive listing expires at midnight,

you know.

No, I don't know.

I've asked her to stop telling me

about her exclusives and her escrows

that cancel out at the last minute.

Why did she have to get into a profession that's so insecure?

Unlike acting.

Vicky told me at lunch that you were out on an audition.

- How did it go? - I was brilliant.

But they wanted someone taller.

Or was it shorter? Fatter? I don't remember.

Well, at least I have my play.

Working for no money, of course.

It's a workshop, which is a nice way

of saying none of the actors get paid.

I don't know,

maybe Victoria would have been better off without me.

Oh, come now, Howard.

Don't force me to dutch uncle you.

I'm only an aunt.

One thing I'm certain of,

you two are made for each other.

Hope you're right, aunt Jess.

- Howard. - Hi, honey!

You two must be ready to kill me,

but I haven't got time to be killed.

You're not gonna believe what just happened.

I can't believe it myself.

Well, take a big, deep breath and share it with us.

No time for breathing, either.

At 11:00 my guardian angel,

a car dealer from Orange County,

is meeting me at the Tarkington estate

with a cash binder.

Deborah accepted his $3.9 million offer.

I've gotta get to my office

and type up the agreement right now.

Now?

I'm sorry, but I thought the two people I love

the most in the world would understand.

You do, don't you?

Of course we do!

Oh, yeah, sure.

What's the big deal about a play?

Oh, Howard.

Honey...

I haven't forgotten about it.

I just can't see it on the first night, that's all.

Well, that's the nice thing about a workshop.

There's always a second night.

Well, maybe Vicky can't go to the play,

but I certainly can.

Are you sure you want to?

Well, of course I do.

It's an allegory.

An allegory?

Well, what fun!

I can't apologize enough for the special effects.

Oh, you almost have.

The rainstorm that rejuvenates the corn crop

was supposed to be a light mist.

But something went wrong with the plumbing.

I just hope you didn't get too soaked.

Well,

not as much as the people in the two front rows.

They were drenched.

Oh, it looks as if you got a message on the machine.

Maybe it's my agent.

I was wondering why he didn't get to the play tonight.

Victoria, dear, this is Deborah Tarkington.

I've just now realized

this buyer of yours is a real phony.

Is this some kind of a stall

just because the listing is running out?

It better not be,

because at midnight the party's over,

and you, my sweet, turn back into a pumpkin.

Wasn't Vicky supposed to meet that guy tonight at 11:00?

Well, apparently she didn't get the message.

Well, I'm going over there right now

to take Victoria away

if I have to drag her off physically.

Well, I'll go with you.

I don't want to miss what may turn out

to be the best play of the night.

Deborah?

Are you here?

Deborah?

Howard?

Aunt Jessica, what are you doing here?

What are you doing here?

And how come the lights are out?

I have a more important question.

Freeze!

Get your hands in the air and don't move!

So, Mrs. Griffin,

according to this, she was dead when you arrived.

I already explained it all to the others.

Well, the others aren't real cops.

They're play cops. I'm the real thing.

Humor me, explain it again, please.

Well, I'm the real estate agent

for this property and I thought we sold it.

I came here to meet the buyer.

There was no answer when I rang the doorbell,

so I let myself in with my key, and...

And then I found Deborah's body.

I arrived immediately after with Jessica Fletcher.

I'm Victoria's aunt.

How convenient for everyone.

Lieutenant.

What have you got, Doc?

Well, I can't give you the exact minute,

but she's been dead less than two hours.

Well within the framework of our mass arrival.

How do you account for the bruise on the head?

Well, probably the fall when the lady passed out.

Passed out?

Well, we found a half dozen of those amphetamine capsules

on the floor near the body,

a half-empty bottle of scotch nearby.

You tell me.

Lieutenant. What?

Was there a pill bottle with a prescription label on it?

No.

Ross, look for a prescription bottle, amphetamine.

Check the bathrooms

and the nightstand in the bedroom.

There's something strange here, lieutenant.

What?

Well, here is a second bottle of scotch,

also half-empty, with another glass.

So?

Well, why would anybody open another bottle

when the first one wasn't empty?

I mean, it doesn't make any sense.

Mrs. Fletcher, in real life, drunks don't always make sense.

We'll dust the second bottle and the glass for prints, too.

Lieutenant, I found Mrs. Tarkington dead.

Relax.

I'm just covering all the bases.

I mean, if the coroner comes back

with a verdict of hanky-panky,

I'll have to begin somewhere, won't I?

Good morning.

Feeling better this morning, Vicky?

Can't you tell how chipper I am?

Well, after last night,

maybe a good, strong cup of coffee

would be better than going through the bills.

These bills have to be paid.

Vicky,

why don't you let me help you and Howard over this hump?

It's very sweet of you to offer, but no.

Taking money from you would kill Howard.

His ego can barely deal

with the idea of his wife working,

let alone accepting money from relatives.

Oh, by the way, is he up?

Oh, he's been up for hours.

He wanted to be at his agent's office

as soon as it opened this morning.

He's so worried about his career,

he'll probably take anything now.

Hello?

Yes, of course I remember you, lieutenant.

Meet you at your office this morning?

Why?

This little caper is beginning to come together.

- Caper? - Yes.

The more I learn, the clearer it becomes.

And what have you learned, lieutenant?

About Mrs. Tarkington's phone call to your niece,

threatening to take away her exclusive listing.

A broker's commission on $4 million

is certainly motive enough to put you on the suspect list.

What did you do after you received the call?

I didn't receive it. I wasn't home.

My aunt told me about the call after I found the body.

I'll tell you what you did.

You went there, you argued,

you became angry, and you hit her with something.

No!

Lieutenant, I thought that she struck her head

when she fell.

Yeah, well, it was meant to look that way.

Our boys in the lab found Mrs. Tarkington's prints

on one bottle of scotch, one glass.

The others by the body were wiped clean.

I think it's highly unlikely

that Mrs. Tarkington got up after she fell

and wiped off her own fingerprints.

Well, what about the pills on the floor?

We found the empty bottle upstairs in her bathroom.

Obviously, she walked downstairs with them in her hand,

dropped a few when she washed them down with the scotch.

Now, why would I kill a client who was going to pay me

a huge commission for selling her house?

She had already made up her mind.

By the way, where's your husband?

- He's supposed to be here, too. - Well, Howard isn't a suspect.

Mrs. Fletcher, I get to decide who the suspects are.

Yes, but Howard was on stage last night

at the time of the murder.

So he says.

But I was there, with the rest of the audience

and the cast from the play.

Mrs. Fletcher, I have one very cold body,

two very warm suspects,

and until someone comes up with something better,

your niece and her husband get the bulk of my attention.

Now, why don't you tell me all about

this so-called buyer who never showed up?

Calm down, Mr. Yakamoto, now, just calm down.

Now, listen, you're offering what?

Three million.

Is that yen or dollars?

Well, no, I know the dollar is a little bouncy,

but, I mean, after all,

that is what we use in this country.

Uh-huh.

You want to be a member of the country club?

The only way you'll buy?

Hold on one second.

I have an urgent call coming in from Yemen.

I'll be right back.

Yemen?

Not that old

"hold for an important phone call" gag?

Well, when it stops working, I'll stop using it.

Hold on. I'll be right back with you.

Ah, Mr. Yakamoto.

Listen, things are really happening fast here.

That was an Arab oil man, and he just bid on the property.

Now, listen, it's not a full-price offer,

so if you could authorize me to make a full-price offer now,

the property won't get away.

Uh-huh.

Thank you very much. And listen, stay in touch.

Bye-bye.

You're such a louse.

What did you just unload, Arnold?

Oh, you know the Emerson place up on Beverly Glen?

That dump?

A $3-million dump, Didi dear.

Mr. Yakamoto's gonna tear it down

and put something else in its place.

Probably some kind of a Shinto shrine,

with overtones of California stucco.

How lovely.

- So. - So.

What brings precious premises' number one saleslady

into the jaws of competition?

A desire to make a career move maybe?

No, no, no, not exactly.

Sweet little Victoria has gotten herself sideways with the law.

- Your protegee? - Mmm-hmm.

She's a suspect in the death of Deborah Tarkington.

Well, what about the exclusive listing

on the Tarkington place?

Since I have an in with Sonny boy Kevin,

I might be able to grab onto it.

Well, how nice for you.

I might even bring it to you, Arnold, if the deal is right.

Now, why would I be interested

in the Tarkington estate?

You're interested because Alec Burton is interested,

but you can't get an exclusive and I can.

I'm not greedy, Arnold.

Never have been.

There's enough for both of us

in this if we split the commission.

Or do you have to go check with your darling little wife?

You've got yourself a deal, sweetheart.

I love it when you're macho.

I'm so sorry to bother you at a time like this,

but I was here last night,

and I think I might have dropped my reading glasses

in the confusion.

Well, I haven't seen any glasses.

But if you'd like to come in and look for them, that's fine.

Oh, thank you very much. I won't take but a minute.

My niece did call and tell you I was coming?

You must be the mystery writer

that the real estate lady talks about all the time.

Yes, I'm afraid so.

Oh, this is a mess.

Those sloppy policemen,

they got fingerprint powder all over everything.

Oh, yes. You know, when we were here last night,

apparently, you weren't here.

- No, I wasn't here. - I see.

And you were?

Out.

Out. Yes.

Yes, of course.

The police found amphetamine capsules near the body.

Did Mrs. Tarkington take them often?

Often enough.

I suppose she had a prescription.

You ask an awful lot of questions, don't you?

Forgive me for being so nosy,

but my niece is a suspect in the murder.

That nice woman?

Mrs. Tarkington took these pills for her diet.

Her supply ran out,

and I was supposed to get a refill of her prescription,

but I forgot until this morning.

Now it's too late.

Oh, there, there.

I know you're going to miss her.

Not likely. I hated her guts.

Well, then, why are you crying?

Because I've lost my job,

and the boy doesn't want the likes of me around here.

But I can tell you...

Hello. I'm Kevin Tarkington.

Excuse me.

Do we have an appointment?

I took a chance that we would meet.

Oh, of course you're here about the house.

I'm at your service, Mrs...

Fletcher.

I'm not a buyer, Mr. Tarkington.

I'm so very sorry about your mother.

But I must say, I'm surprised

that you're showing the house today.

Were you a friend of mother's?

No, I'm Victoria Griffin's aunt.

Oh! Oh, that adorable one.

You can be proud of her, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, I am.

Tell me, why are you so eager to sell?

Did I give that impression?

Actually, I'm prepared to let it go to the next bidder.

Mother was a crazy sentimentalist.

One day she wanted to sell,

and the next day she'd change her mind.

Well, I suspect it was because she was brought up here.

You know, stars, parties.

I'd much rather have a beach house in Malibu.

Victoria tells me that you're an only child.

The last of a distinguished line.

Oh, then you'll get everything.

There is no "everything." This is it.

And if you're implying

that I might have dispatched dear old mom to the hereafter

for a few lousy million bucks worth of real estate,

it's a reasonable guess, but you're wrong.

I understand

that the police were unable to reach you after the murder.

I drove up the coast to clear my head.

Oh.

With someone who can furnish you with an alibi?

I wasn't aware that I needed one.

Mrs. Fletcher, why are you here?

My mother's death doesn't concern you.

Curiously enough,

it doesn't seem to concern you, either.

I came here because I was looking for these.

But I found them.

Don't bother, I'll see myself out.

Oh, Vicky.

Aunt Jess.

You're the last person I expected to see here.

Well, who were you expecting?

I was hoping to find my guardian angel,

buyer Seymour Densch.

I need him to corroborate my story,

and I haven't been able to reach him

at his business number.

Vicky, were you followed here?

No.

Why would anybody follow me?

Becoming a regular hangout for you ladies.

Any new developments, lieutenant?

A few.

The autopsy showed that Deborah Tarkington

had plenty of scotch in her system, but no pills.

The cause of death was a severe concussion.

The result of a blow delivered by a blunt object.

Oh, dear.

We've identified the murder weapon.

The fireplace poker.

The lab found traces of Mrs. Tarkington's blood on it

along with Mrs. Griffin's fingerprints.

I can explain.

You'll have every opportunity to do just that.

I'm taking you in.

You're arresting Victoria for murder?

Yes.

How can you hold her?

She told you she was alone in the dark house with a body

and heard footsteps, so she grabbed up the poker.

When she saw that it was us, she put it back.

Yes, that's what she told me.

Well, don't you people believe anybody?

Not too many suspects who go around

leaving their fingerprints on the murder weapon.

She didn't know it was the murder weapon

when she picked it up!

Howard, I think you can help Vicky better

by finding a good lawyer.

Lawyer, right. I'll get the best!

I can't afford the best, or even the second best,

or the 42nd best.

Well, don't worry about that now.

Just find someone. Please?

I'll be back!

You can't do this to Vicky. This is really absurd!

He's right, you know, lieutenant.

I mean, this is absurd.

From your side of the desk, perhaps.

From my side, it's the only thing

that makes any sense.

You know, lieutenant,

if you're such a believer in fingerprints,

why didn't you find any on the other scotch bottle

and the other glass?

That should be obvious to you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Your niece simply wiped them off.

And not off the murder weapon?

I mean, if this doesn't make any sense to you,

how is it going to sound to a jury?

Hi. I'm Seymour Densch.

They told me to come right in.

I guess you're anxious to see me, huh?

Please, sit down, Mr. Densch. Mrs. Fletcher.

Yesterday, according to Victoria Griffin,

you called and offered $3.9 million

for the Tarkington estate.

Said you were going to meet her at 11:00 p.m.

with a bundle of cash.

Yeah, yeah. That's a binder.

Where did you plan to get the balance

of the $3.9 million to conclude the transaction?

From Alec Burton.

The movie star? Yeah.

Well, not exactly from him,

if you know what I mean, you know.

No, I don't know what you mean.

Numbers of that magnitude have a tendency to elude me.

Who was going to give you the money to buy the estate?

Arnold Hastings.

The realtor. Why?

Well, okay.

Well, for some reason,

Deborah Tarkington would not sell the house

to Mr. Hastings

because Mr. Hastings was fronting for Mr. Burton.

So, I fronted for both of them.

They paid me $10,000.

Now, that is not to say that I did it

just for the money, you understand.

And why exactly did you do it?

Why?

I was Harry Tarkington's biggest fan.

I saw all his movies. The man is a legend.

I wanted to meet his daughter,

I wanted to set foot in that house

and touch...

The place is a shrine.

I was a little late.

By the time I got there,

the place was swarming with cops,

so, I just went home. I left.

So you did come to meet Victoria?

She did have a reason for being there.

Oh, yeah, wait.

But, I mean, killing the old doll,

now, that was her own idea. I had nothing to do with that.

I mean, I was supposed to just come there

and buy the house from her.

But you were working for this fellow, Hastings?

Yeah.

And not for Victoria Griffin.

That's what I just said, didn't I?

Good morning, Victoria.

I thought you were in the slammer.

I'm out on bail.

I want you to know that not for a moment

did I think that you had anything to do

with mother's death.

Thanks, Kevin. I appreciate that.

No need to put these away.

But my exclusive listing has expired.

With mother.

I have a house to sell, and I really like your style.

Kevin, that's very kind of you, but...

You know, when I first saw you I said to myself,

"now there is a woman

who really knows how to move a good piece of real estate."

Deal?

Deal.

Kevin, thank you.

You know, shaking hands is no way

for friends to seal an agreement.

Say, how about over dinner tonight?

Oh, gee, I can't. Not tonight.

My husband's in a play.

And I thought that this listing

was important to you.

Was I mistaken?

Maybe you misinterpreted his dinner invitation.

You know, sometimes we read more

into situations than is intended.

At his place,

where he's going to cook the spaghetti

because it's the servants' night out?

Oh, dear. "Oh, dear," is right.

Where's Howard?

I sent him out on an errand.

An errand?

Well, he looked as if he was about to jump out of his skin,

so I sent him to the county tax assessor's office.

Tax assessor's?

Well, I had this sudden hunch,

and Howard volunteered to follow through on it.

I've got it!

Howard.

Oh.

Jessica, you were absolutely right.

That con artist is trying to buy up Beverly Hills.

What con artist?

Alec Burton, if what I suspect is in this envelope.

It's just as you thought.

The properties to the East and West

of the Tarkington estate have been sold to Alec Burton.

So that's why he was so obsessed

with buying the Tarkington estate.

He's trying to put together a mega estate of his own.

Exactly.

With Deborah Tarkington's house as the centerpiece.

Makes you wonder how far Burton would go

to get the place away from her.

Yeah.

There is nothing illegal about these purchases,

lieutenant, I can assure you.

The thing I'm a bit fuzzy on, Mr. Burton,

is none of these properties was sold directly to you.

They were sold to other parties, and then acquired by you.

Can you explain that?

Well, if the owners had any idea

that I was trying to buy their properties,

the prices would have skyrocketed.

So I left it up to my broker, Arnold Hastings,

who acquired the properties through intermediaries

I approved of,

and then resold them to me at the same price.

Which is the reason why you asked Mr. Hastings

to have Seymour Densch

purchase the Tarkington property for you.

Seymour Densch?

Who's Seymour Densch?

You mean, you didn't approve?

I never heard of the guy,

so I couldn't very well approve of him, could I?

Let's discuss your alibi, Mr. Burton.

Now, I spoke with the housekeeper

at the party where you and your realtors,

the Hastings, Claire and Arnold,

spent the evening the night of the murder.

Contrary to what Mr. Hastings said,

you did not stay until the wee hours.

Matter of fact,

you were seen leaving about 11:00 p.m.

You're right, lieutenant.

I did leave the party before 11:00 as a ruse.

It would have been simple for me

to slip out without being noticed,

but I went out of my way

to make sure that I was seen leaving.

May I ask why?

Because I immediately came back for a certain

assignation with the lady of the house,

who's husband was preoccupied with the party.

I stayed till about 2:00.

So you and the lady of the house

were upstairs in the bedroom while her husband was downstairs

with a few hundred other guests?

Not the bedroom.

It was the servants' quarters above the garage.

Honest to God?

Mmm.

Well, you were taking a hell of a chance,

if you ask me, pal.

Let me say I enjoy the danger. It stimulates me.

I'd cadged a couple of pills from Claire

just to stay awake.

The party was so boring.

And then the lady slipped me a note and a key.

It was the adventure of the thing.

Claire may get a kick

out of these little red and yellow pills,

but to me,

stimulation is living on the edge.

What?

- Oh, dear. - What is it?

Lieutenant, would those red and yellow pills

be the same ones that Deborah Tarkington took?

Yes.

Well, they're just diet pills. So what?

You're onto something, aren't you, Mrs. Fletcher?

Yes, I think that maybe I am.

Please, Kevin, just give me a few hours to get through this.

Sure, Vicky, I can wait a few hours.

We'll just do supper late.

But I told you, I'm seeing my husband's play tonight.

Vicky, I'm very disappointed in you.

I thought you were much more flexible,

if you know what I mean.

This is Vicky's husband.

If you ever come near her again,

I will personally eliminate

some of your favorite body parts,

if you know what I mean!

That's no way to make it in real estate.

- Hi. - Hi.

The grapevine says

there's a dinner invitation open here.

You wouldn't be tapping my phone, now, would you?

Nothing that obvious.

I heard that Mrs. Griffin is going to the theater tonight

with her aunt and husband.

But if I'm wrong about that invitation,

I'll say goodbye.

No, no, don't go.

How does spaghetti marinara sound to you?

It's a special recipe, and you can make the salad.

The things I do for an exclusive.

I never made a salad in my life.

Now let me get this straight.

You are interested in relocating to the West Coast?

Oh, yes.

I'm growing tired of those cold Maine winters.

Thank you.

After a few days here in this lovely climate,

I've decided that I want a house in Beverly Hills.

Ah, very, very sensible, Mrs. Fletcher.

But why come to us instead of your

delightful niece?

Well, Vicky's a sweet little thing,

but totally over her head in the world of,

well, high-ticket real estate.

I'm going to be in Cabot Cove during the escrow,

and I need someone experienced, competent,

hardheaded and thorough who can handle things for me.

Well, you know, I have sold property

to some pretty heavyweight buyers.

Now, do you have a specific house in mind?

Oh, yes, indeed.

I am simply enchanted with the Tarkington estate.

Well, now, you do realize

the asking price is rather high.

Well, it might seem so for some,

but I've never believed

that the best things in life are free.

I mean, the more they cost, the better they are.

Oh, my dear lady,

I've been telling my clients this

for years and years and years.

Arnold.

Oh, good afternoon, Mrs. Hastings.

What is that woman doing here?

My dear, this is Jessica Fletcher,

Victoria Griffin's aunt.

I know who she is.

The question is, why is she here?

Excuse us just a second.

Arnold. To buy a house, darling.

Don't be a fool.

Mrs. Fletcher's niece is the prime suspect

in Deborah's murder.

She isn't shopping for houses, she's shopping for suspects.

If you don't mind, darlings, I'm bored with all that.

I want the Tarkington estate,

and I want it settled

before I leave for Maine tomorrow.

You can't possibly be serious.

Oh, well, I'll tell you how serious I am.

I'm prepared to offer 10% over the asking price

of $4.9 million.

But of course, if you have an agreement with Alec Burton...

Oh, well,

I'd hardly call it an agreement, and certainly not a contract.

Tomorrow will be just fine, Mrs. Fletcher.

You'd be amazed at how quickly things happen

with the right impetus.

Mr. Hastings,

everything about your operation amazes me.

Good morning.

Good morning, Kevin, dear.

What are you doing here so early?

What time is it? High noon.

We got some great news for you, buddy boy.

Oh, good.

I could use some, after last night.

We've found a buyer for your property.

Who? And how much?

Us.

The last offer was $3.9 million.

But I thought you were Alec Burton's people.

Not when we're competing

for something that we dearly want.

Oh, Kevin, darling, don't you see?

We've fallen in love with your house.

Oh, dear,

after you promised it to me for $4.9 million plus 10%?

A tidy little profit on a very crooked deal.

Kevin, I assure you, this woman is absolutely mad.

Don't bother. I warned you not to trust her.

Speaking of trust, you violated Alec Burton's trust

when you paid Seymour Densch to act as a stooge

without Mr. Burton's approval.

Hardly kosher, right, partner?

Mrs. Tarkington probably found out,

tried to make trouble.

So, what are you saying, I killed her?

I couldn't have done it.

I was at the party, remember?

I went upstairs to the billiard room

to play pool.

I was up there until about 1:00 or so.

Yes, but as Mr. Burton pointed out,

it was a huge party.

So it wasn't difficult for someone to slip out

and return later, unobserved.

Wouldn't you agree, Mrs. Hastings?

Me? You think I killed Deborah?

Yes.

And I think after you killed her,

you decided to make it look as if she had accidentally

overdosed on stimulants and alcohol,

and then fallen and struck her head.

How clever, if true.

Which, of course, it is not.

Those pills found beside Mrs. Tarkington's body

couldn't have been hers

because her maid told me she ran out of them that afternoon

and apparently was rather upset

because the maid forgot to refill the prescription.

Now, if she had no more pills,

where did the pills on the floor come from?

Your purse, Mrs. Hastings.

Your prescription bottle.

I think I should warn you, Mrs. Hastings,

the autopsy showed no pills in her system,

and we're having forensics

dust those found at the scene for partial prints.

Claire.

Oh, Arnold, close your mouth.

You know what it's like.

Been all these years

working with the rich, not being rich ourselves.

Not rich, rich.

You actually start to feel that you're one of them.

And then one day you wake up and you realize

that you're on a par with their poodle's hairdresser.

Mrs. Hastings, why don't you bring us all up to speed

and tell us what really happened?

That idiot, Seymour Densch,

couldn't resist the opportunity to see the house

and meet the infamous Deborah Tarkington,

daughter of his idol, Harry Tarkington.

So he used his offer on the house as an entree

and introduced himself to Deborah.

Well, after five minutes she saw right through him,

and she called him on it.

Of course, he spilled his guts before she tossed him out.

I guess that's when she called Victoria

and left the message on her machine

that the deal was off.

Then she called Arnold at the party

to give him a piece of her mind,

but I intercepted the call.

She was talking about fraud.

Now I told her to calm down, that we would talk about it.

So...

I left the party and I went to Deborah's.

She'd been drinking just enough to be abusive,

and nasty and very dangerous.

And when she went for the phone to call the police,

I went for the fireplace poker.

I always was a good closer.

All right, thank you very much. Bye-bye.

I've done it, aunt Jess. I've finally done it.

You've sold a house! How wonderful!

I've found a buyer for the Tarkington estate.

Once the paperwork comes through from Kuwait,

the house is sold.

And now maybe Howard can concentrate on his play

without any distractions.

The play closed.

Oh, dear.

How is Howard taking it?

He's not sure he wants to act anymore.

He wants to try something entirely new.

And a friend of his told him

about the wonderful opportunities

in the commodities market.

You know, buying and selling.

Well, buying and selling what?

Soybean futures and hog bellies.

Hey, listen you're not gonna believe this.

I went on an interview and got the job!

What kind of a job? Hog bellies?

No. Acting!

This advertising guy

saw my performance in the workshop

as the mushroom, and he liked it so much,

he wants me to be the spokesperson

for all his television commercials.

I play a pineapple named Pepe.

But that's not acting.

No real actor would play a talking pineapple.

The two things just don't go together.

It's a job.

Well, what do you think, Jessica?

Well, I think that Vicky's wrong.

They go very well together.

What?

Ham and pineapple.