All language subtitles for MrSWr5E12.Smooth.Operators.

Tonight, on Murder, She Wrote.

I don't care about any autopsy.

Elliot did not drink.

File your papers now, take an early retirement.

Every time you get an answer, you come up with two new questions.

How many gallbladders can there be left in this city?

I still think we should expand into cosmetology.

My doctor made an appointment for me to have a complete physical examination.

Surgery is indicated.

Surgery?

They wouldn't have killed him, not for that.

Top o' the morning to you, Tim.

And the rest of the day to you, Charlie.

A little too much celebrating last night?

Celebrating? That would be a welcome change.

Oh no, the, uh, the plumbing's acting up.

- Hi. - How's it going with, uh...

Oh, better. Luckily, I'm a man of infinite patience and great forbearance.

Right.

Timothy!

Jessica! Saints in heaven!

What are you doing here?

Well, I just came by to see if you'd be interested

in a late breakfast or an early lunch.

I just finished with my publisher.

You mean you didn't make a special trip just to see me?

Uh-uh. None of that.

Now, airlines travel in both directions, you know.

Come with me.

Well, we've been busy, girl, and you know how it is.

This place cannot operate without me.

Lieutenant, I'll see you in my office immediately,

if you don't mind.

Yes, Sir.

The captain himself.

Always popping in at the wrong time.

Well, look, if you're too busy--

Busy? Not likely.

You go wait in my office. I won't be but a minute.

The captain and I are not given to long conversations.

All right.

I've half a mind to sell the house.

I mean, it's just me now

rattling around in all those rooms.

I know the feeling.

How are those two nephews of yours?

Oh, fine, fine.

Well, Daniel's doing very well in the phone company,

and Sean's got himself into real estate out on Long Island.

A fine couple of boys.

I'd love to meet them.

Would you now? Oh, what a fine idea.

Well, of course, I'd have to check to see what their plans are.

You know, they're young people. They've got their own friends.

The thing is, Jessica, I talk to them on the phone,

but I don't actually see that much of them.

Hey. Well, I wonder what this is.

Oh, there must have been an accident.

- Morning, Ray. - How you doing, lieutenant?

Ray, meet Jessica Fletcher. Jessica, Ray Donatelli.

- How do you do? - Pleasure.

- What's going on? - The same old thing.

Another stiff who didn't make it to sunrise.

Oh, dear.

Yeah, it's too bad, ma'am, but the truth is,

we scrape up two or three of these guys a week.

Winos, boozers. No place to sleep but an alley.

Any ID?

You mean a wallet or something?

You got to be kidding.

Hey, but you want to know something weird?

This guy, he's only wearing one shoe.

So go figure.

Yeah, yeah! Beautiful!

What do you got, Frankie, a new toy?

- One shoe? - Hmm.

Strange.

He's awfully well dressed for a derelict.

And the shoe business.

Do you suppose he lost it somewhere?

I doubt it.

I mean, look at the sock, Timothy.

It's clean.

If he'd been walking around,

it would have been covered with dirt.

No. Somebody took it.

One shoe.

I wonder why.

A drunk?

You want to waste your time and mine,

not to mention some of this precinct's limited budget,

investigating the death of a drunk?

It wouldn't take long, Sir.

Lieutenant...

these people are... disposables.

They're homeless derelicts, hell-bent on drowning in alcohol

until they go belly-up.

But in this particular case, Sir, I have this feeling--

Oh, I'm not getting through to you, am I?

I don't like unsolved cases.

They don't look good on my record.

And I'm very proud of my record.

And I don't intend to see it screwed up

by some old-time, seat-of-the-pants

homicide lieutenant who suddenly gets a "feeling"

that some wino may have been murdered!

May I remind the captain that this precinct's fine record

can be credited, at least in part,

to those feelings you just alluded to?

All right.

All right. Look into it.

Thank you, sir.

Unofficially, you understand.

There'll be no paperwork on this until you get an ID,

- an autopsy-- - But--

And you get it done tonight.

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

Hanratty, the only reason I'm letting you pursue this is to prove you're wrong.

The days of guesswork and shoot-from-the-hip...

they're gone. Think about it.

Morning, Jessica.

Well, good morning.

Coffee, young lady, and lots of it.

I'm sorry about dinner last night, Jessica.

I just got off about 30 minutes ago.

It was a grand night, and I can tell you that.

I'm sure.

Timothy, why do you put up with it?

I mean, a man of your experience and seniority--

Two fine words, my girl.

But in the eyes of some,

they stand for "old" and "over the hill" and "outdated."

- That's ridiculous. - Is it?

What did I hear, a note of self-pity?

Not a bit of it. It's just that--

Well, I don't know. Maybe it's the system.

I've got good years left in me, Jessica,

but of late I've been doubting my instincts.

Really now?

And last night, did you identify the corpse?

Oh, yes.

- And did you get your autopsy? - Yes, but--

Well, then it seems to me you're right on top of things.

- Who was he? - His name was Elliot Winston.

We had his prints on file

for a couple of drunk-and-disorderlies several years back.

His current address: 861 West 78th street.

And you are planning to go over there?

- I am, if you'll go with me. - Ah, no.

Jessica, you once told me

that a good writer needed a good editor.

Well, that's what I need now-- An editor.

That's him-- Elliot Winston, the fella in the alley.

Uh, excuse me. May I help you?

Lieutenant Timothy Hanratty, ma'am.

And this is Mrs. Fletcher.

Lieutenant? Are you from the police?

I am, ma'am. Homicide.

Is there a problem about Elliot?

Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am.

Mr. Winston was found dead yesterday morning.

Why don't we-- Why don't we sit down?

Thank you.

I knew there was something wrong

when he didn't come home for two days, but--

Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Grace Fenton.

I live just across the hall, 8D.

Please tell me what happened.

Well, he was found on the street yesterday morning.

- He had been drinking heavily. - Oh, oh, no.

I'm afraid the autopsy shows--

I don't care about any autopsy.

Elliot did not drink, not anymore.

I mean, I know,

because we're both members of the same organization.

We go to a meeting every evening.

- I'm terribly sorry. - Oh, no! I'm sorry.

It's just not true!

I mean, God knows, people like Elliot and me,

we always live on the edge,

and some do slip back, but not Elliot.

Excuse me. I'll just look around.

Just a minute.

If Elliot died of drinking,

then what is homicide doing here?

Well, the lieutenant's not entirely satisfied

that your friend's death was accidental.

Oh, good. That's a start.

Lieutenant. Well, how did you get that open?

- It wasn't locked. - But it's always locked.

That's where he kept his work.

Well, where are they?

- They're missing! - What's missing?

His papers.

They were very important to him.

He worked on them constantly.

What kind of papers?

Well, I don't know. He never said.

He was very secretive about them.

Timothy?

No.

You are sorely trying my patience, lieutenant.

First, it was this lush in the alley with one shoe off, one shoe on.

How that spells murder, I'll never know.

Since then, sir, other facts have come to light.

Yeah, and I'll tell you what one of them is.

Your Elliot Winston has a history of checking in and out

of the alcoholic ward at Bellevue.

- That was ten years ago, sir. - Once a drunk, always a drunk.

You told me yourself you found a half empty bottle of booze in his apartment.

Along with one very suspicious set of fingerprints

as though someone had wiped the bottle clean

and then place Winston's prints upon the bottle.

What is that? Another one of your feelings?

What about the missing papers, captain?

Somebody broke into that man's apartment.

It never occurred to you that Winston may have moved the papers himself?

Taken them somewhere?

Look, Hanratty, very frankly, you old guys give me a real pain in the keester.

Putting in you time, waiting for your pension.

Why don't you do us both a favor?

File your papers now, take an early retirement.

And another thing, confine your social life to after hours.

Now, just a moment, captain. That-that remark was unwarranted.

Ma'am, we have a precinct to run here.

We don't have time to entertain out-of-town visitors. Excuse me.

Where to?

Well, I'm gonna check out the bars and liquor stores

around the alley.

If he was drinking in the area,

they'll be able to identify his picture.

- Well, I'll go with you. - Oh, no, you don't, my girl.

I'll manage to get more done if you're not tagging along.

Besides, we've got to find out a lot more about Elliot Winston,

and I know just exactly where you're going to start.

Grace Fenton.

- I'll drop you off. - Good.

Elliot and I, we were friends.

Very good friends.

We met at a meeting about three years ago.

As a matter of fact,

I helped him to get the apartment across the hall.

And during the--

This last year, we had grown very close.

I mean, we had dinner together two or three times a week.

On Sundays we'd go to the park.

Every once in a while we'd go to a movie.

It was wonderful.

But it was also very hard.

Elliot is terribly sh--

He--

He was--

He was terribly shy.

And so am I.

I should have spoken up.

I never even told him that I loved him.

I don't-- I don't understand how someone could kill him.

Why?

Well, that's what the lieutenant is determined to find out.

Grace, those papers that Elliot had in his desk drawer,

did he ever mention anything about them?

No. Not really.

I just assumed that they had something to do with his work

at the Old York hospital.

It's one of those hotsy-totsy society hospitals

for the rich and pampered.

And what did he do there?

Bookkeeping, accounting.

You know, Timothy,

I met some people from Grace and Elliot's regular meeting,

and they were in shock.

I mean, they couldn't believe

that he'd started drinking again after all these years.

Well, I hate to be the bearer of sad tidings.

A copy of the official autopsy report.

His blood alcohol level was 2.0,

cause of death: acute alcohol intoxication.

Oh, these shoes.

I knew I didn't like that salesman's face.

This doesn't make any sense.

Now, what about the bars and liquor stores near that alley?

No one recognized Winston's photograph.

If he was drinking elsewhere,

why and how did he end up in that alley?

I love to watch you at work, Jessica.

Each time you get an answer,

you come up with two new questions.

You know what I think?

I think that his death was linked to those missing papers.

Which means--

Which means that someone, preferably me,

really should go and nose around that Old York hospital.

You?

Since when did the NYPD homicide bureau issue you a badge?

Oh, for heaven's sakes, Timothy.

If there was anything wrong,

they'd never open up for a detective.

Especially without a search warrant,

you'd be traipsing all over their rights.

On the other hand, I, as a poor, hopelessly helpless,

terribly rich widow with a frightful pain here--

Maybe it's here.

Don't worry. I'll work it out.

Leon, would you knock it off?

- Leon, I'm trying to concentrate. - Well, I am concentrating.

What do you say, after lunch, we, uh... call in sick, huh?

You don't think they'll notice both of us?

Go take a cold shower, okay?

- Come on. - It won't be the same without you.

Excuse me.

Hello. May I help you?

Oh yes, I'm quite sure that you can.

I'm Christine Chesterton and my doctor made an appointment for me to have

a complete physical examination this morning.

I'm sure you have it down there somewhere.

- Uh, that was Mrs., uh... - Chesterton.

That's Ralph Thorndaw Chesterton.

The late Ralph Thorndaw Chesterton.

I was told to be here precisely 10.00,

but I can only give you one hour and a half,

because I have to be at the Met for an extremely important charity luncheon

no later than 12 noon.

I'm sorry. I can't find it here.

Well, my dear young lady, obviously, we are the victims of some ridiculous

clerical error. Now, do listen to me carefully.

My doctor - now, that's Lowell Wheatley, MD -

spoke to your doctor about a physical checkup.

Now where do I go, and who do I see?

Well, I suppose you should start with admissions.

Excellent. Is it that way?

Oh, I can find the way myself.

Do take care of N oodles for me, will you?

Thank you.

My husband expired at Mount Sinai, you know.

So, of course, when Dr. Wheatley said to me

that I was to come to this place,

well, I was understandably bewildered.

How long has this hospital been in operation, doctor?

About 40 years.

Oh, you're much too young for that.

My partners and I bought it about three years ago.

Partners?

Oh, well, then that distinguished gentleman

that I met at the corridor must be one of them.

Dr. Markle, yes. Now open wide.

Dr. Wheatley?

Dr. Robert Markle, Old York hospital.

Good morning. What can I do for you?

Well, I seem to have inherited one of your patients,

a Mrs. Christina Chesterton.

Oh, yes. Christina.

Yes, well, she charged in here this morning,

claiming that you'd set her up for a physical exam.

I'd mentioned you to her about a week ago.

What seems to be her problem?

Aside from acute hypochondria, I have no idea.

Oh, yes, that is a very fine school.

I feel better already.

You must have been very young when you graduated from there.

Mrs. Chesterton. Mrs. Chesterton.

Could we please get back to some of these test results?

Oh, yes, of course.

Well, so far, I don't see anything critically serious.

Oh, are you sure?

Well, we won't have the whole picture until the lab reports are in

and our radiologist has had a chance to analyze your X-Rays.

I think I should tell you,

I did see some suspicious shadows on your gall bladder.

I knew it.

I've been in the most terrible discomfort for months.

Oh, but it says here that

you've complained of dizzy spells,

severe headaches, occasional swollen glands.

Well, I mean, you couldn't possibly expect me

to list everything.

Well, the plain truth of it is,

you didn't learn all that much.

Oh, don't be so sure about that.

Oh, I'm sorry, miss Fenton. Do you mind?

Oh, no. No, not at all, lieutenant.

I love the smell of a pipe.

And please call me Grace.

Thank you, Grace.

I can tell you this, Timothy: these are very smooth operators.

Well, find me a doctor who isn't.

Well, I had a complete physical examination

four weeks ago, and I'm fine.

But you'd never know it by these people.

Oh, thank you, Grace.

I'll just put this in the hamper.

Good.

Oh! Noodles! Get down off the couch!

Timothy, I had another look at the autopsy report,

and there's something there that bothers me.

And what would that be?

Well, the coroner listed the death

as acute alcohol intoxication.

He also said - and I think this is a direct quote -

"Anomalies to this situation also exist."

Now, what exactly does that mean?

It means, Jessica,

that the gentleman is protecting his posterior.

- We all do it, just in case. - Just in case of what?

Whatever.

Whenever things don't quite add up or a piece doesn't fit,

well, we hedge a little.

The XXX project is not my responsibility.

You're the one who brought it in, David.

At the time, Craig,

XXX County Real Estate was going through the roof.

All right, gentlemen, please.

I still think we need more of diversification.

No, I suppose you think we should've stuck with those double lay municipals, or...

Considering interest rates at the time, it might not have been a bad idea.

All right now. That's enough. Both of you.

However it came about, our portfolio seems to be suffering a short shrinkage.

Which mean, I'm afraid, we're going to have to increase our productivity

to offset our losses and maximize our cash flow.

How many gallbladders can there be left in this city?

I still think we should expand into cosmetology.

- I'm talking top dollar at minimum risk. - And bring in someone new,

and expand the circle?

That's... a risk I don't like.

Now, this Chesterton woman, I see, uh...

she's in very good health.

Although, she could be convinced to be otherwise.

"Anomalies." Gee. You spotted that, huh?

Can't get away with anything in this place.

Martin, the WMC in drawer 21,

you pull him out, slice me a section of brain tissue.

The DA wants it stat.

Okay, Sid, so what were they? The anomalies.

Well, for one thing, you take the guy's liver: fatty.

And I mean fatty.

But he wasn't into cirrhosis. Anybody want a danish?

I got prune, blueberry, lemon.

No, no, thank you.

You know, the funny thing is,

his other organs were pretty good. Spleen, kidneys.

Which means if the guy had been boozing,

he'd done it a long time ago.

Yeah, but you said that he died of alcohol.

Hey, you take anybody who's on the wagon,

He goes on a big enough bender, that's it.

Stiff city in one night.

How about some coffee, huh? Tea?

Oh, no.

- Anything else? - I got soda in the fridge.

No, no. I mean the anomalies.

Oh, nasty bruise on the side of his head.

Might've happened from a fall, you know, after he got drunk.

Or before?

I wasn't there.

Listen, I'd love to stay and chat,

but they're piling up like logs in the fireplace here,

so if you'll excuse me.

Oh! There was one other thing.

His right vocal cord had a cut on it.

Very small, very fresh. What it means--

Timothy, the deeper we dig,

the more this is beginning to smell like a homicide.

Well, your sense of smell is not gonna persuade the captain.

He likes his proof in a neat little package.

- Hey, Tim. - Hey.

Top o' the mornin' to you, Phil.

Wrong, old buddy. It's bottom of the barrel.

Well, meet Jessica Fletcher.

- Phil Cashman. He writes for The Post. - Oh.

What's the matter, your boss giving you trouble again?

Oh, him always. Today it's your boss.

Hanratty, this captain of yours

is a class-one, grade A jerk.

Is he now?

He's so hot to get his name in the papers,

he's managed to create a murder out of thin air.

Created a murder?

Yeah, some poor slob they scraped off a subway grate

a couple of days ago.

Just another boozer gone bad,

but this captain of yours is suddenly calling it a homicide.

Which, incidentally, he says,

he's managed to solve all by himself.

It was police work, plain and simple.

A pawnbroker reported

that a wino tried to hock a valuable watch.

This one.

"To Elliot, from Grace."

And when we picked him up,

he was also carrying Winston's wallet.

It was a good bust, Hanratty.

Brings our average up a couple of points.

We're nipping at the heels of Manhattan South.

Excuse me, captain, but are you sure?

Of course I'm sure.

A little pressure, inside of an hour, we had a confession.

- A confession? - In so many words.

The guy's crazy. I never killed nobody.

Then why did you confess?

What are you talking about?

The guy asked me if I took the watch.

I said I took the watch.

What was I gonna do, lie? They caught me with the goods.

- And the wallet. - And the wallet, big deal.

But kill him? No way.

The guy was dead when I found him.

Why don't you tell us what happened?

Okay, lady. I'll lay it out for you.

It's late.

I'm parked in my usual place on the subway grate.

My head is killing me,

and multicolored pigeons are bashing around in my brain.

I'm almost asleep when I hear this car burn rubber.

I look up, and I see it pulling away.

What kind of car? Did you get the plate number?

What, are you kidding? Who do I look like, Dick Tracy?

Go on.

And then I see them: a new pair of shoes sticking out

from under the sports section of The New York Tribune.

It's this guy.

Real careful, I get the newspaper off of him,

and I check his pockets.

Bingo! He's got his wallet.

I get the watch, and then I go for the shoes.

Yes, we were curious about the shoes.

Why did you only take one of them?

Because I couldn't get the other one off.

That's when I realized this guy was cold.

I don't mean cold, but stiff, like in dead.

Just then, I think I hear somebody coming,

and I take off like a bat.

- Carrying one of the shoes. - Yeah.

I guess I tossed it away the first chance I got.

Hey, that's it, the whole thing. I got nothing else to tell you.

Well, Mrs. Chesterton, it is indeed fortunate

that you came to us when you did.

Oh, then there is a problem. I knew it.

The X-rays of your gall bladder

do show some suspicious shadows.

Oh, dear!

Oh, no, no, please, don't be alarmed.

It may be nothing.

But Dr. Zachary and I concur

that exploratory surgery is indicated.

Oh, my! Surgery?

The situation is minor for the moment.

But stones do present a danger.

There's always the risk of peritonitis.

And Dr. Markle and I feel strongly

that immediate surgery is preferable to an operation

at some future date under emergency conditions.

Emergency? Oh, no, I wouldn't want that.

I left distinct orders that we were not to be disturbed.

Oh, he is?

Well, put him on.

Robert, I understand you're in with Mrs. Chesterton.

Do us all a favor, will you?

Tread slowly.

You never know when you might step on a rattlesnake.

I'm glad you called. I'll clear that up.

Well.

This is really very embarrassing,

but that was our X-ray laboratory.

They seem to be having a problem with one of their machines.

Something about fogged film.

I think, considering the circumstances,

we should reshoot those X-rays because, after all,

we wouldn't want to wake up

and find ourselves suddenly in the middle

of some unnecessary surgery, now, would we?

Actually, we were very lucky.

I'm sorry to have put you to this inconvenience.

Oh, then there's nothing wrong with my gallbladder?

Oh, no, no, no. You're in remarkably fine shape.

No question about it.

Oh, really?

Mrs. Fletcher.

Fletcher? Oh, no, no, David.

No, no, this is Mrs. Chesterton, remember?

You examined her just the other day.

Oh, yes, I remember her quite well.

You know, I thought there was something familiar about you.

And then while I was browsing at the bookstore,

it came to me.

Well. Why.

I think perhaps I owe you gentlemen

some sort of explanation.

Is there somewhere that we could go and talk privately?

My office?

Well, to be perfectly honest...

well, the fact is, I came here because of Elliot Winston.

Elliot? Well, why?

His death was unfortunate, I suppose,

but why would one nondescript, unfortunate alcoholic accountant

be of interest to someone like yourself?

Because of the circumstances.

What circumstances?

He went on a binge, drank too much.

It all caught up to him.

Look, Mrs. Fletcher, we knew about Elliot's background.

We thought he'd straightened himself out,

but obviously that was not the case.

I'm not so sure.

Or rather, the police are not so sure.

There's some indication that he might have been killed.

Murder? That's unbelievable.

Absolutely.

Why would anyone want to kill Elliot Winston, of all people?

He was a quiet, harmless little man.

Oh, but that's just it. That's what he was.

And yet, if the police are right...

I mean, don't you see?

By day, he was this ordinary man,

and yet, by night, who was he?

A schizophrenic? Multiple personalities?

I mean, the story implications are endless.

Which is why, I'm embarrassed to say,

I did come here under somewhat false colors.

Somewhat?

- I hope you'll forgive me. - Well, of course.

You know, you're quite an actress.

You may have missed your calling.

Dr. Markle, I hope this isn't too much of an imposition,

but would you mind if I chatted

with some of Mr. Winston's coworkers?

I really can't tell if there's a book here

unless I get the feel of the man.

Well, they're all rather busy just now.

Let me talk to the rest of them, and I'll get back to you.

Thank you so much.

Markle's not a bad guy. Just cautious.

Besides, he was a little upset with your impersonation,

despite what he said.

Well, I can't say I blame him.

Well, I'll see what I can do.

As for your book,

I'd love to give my fellow human beings the benefit of the doubt,

but when it came to Elliot Winston,

I always knew he'd end up in some alley

with a newspaper for a blanket.

Some people thrive under pressure,

and some, like Elliot, tend to come apart at the seams.

Yes, I can see that.

Oh, by the way,

how'd you manage that business with Lowell Wheatley?

Oh, he went to medical school

with my own doctor from Cabot Cove,

who happens to be a very good friend.

Slick.

Well, I wish you luck with your book.

I'm afraid I won't be around to help much.

I'm leaving for a vacation in the Caribbean tomorrow.

Oh, have a nice trip.

- Oh, thanks. - Good-bye.

Bravo, Robert.

You handled that just beautifully.

Is that a note of sarcasm I hear in your voice, David?

Coldly dismissing a curious writer,

especially one with Mrs. Fletcher's credentials--

Not very smart.

Oh, but I didn't dismiss her.

In fact, I'm going to have Stephanie give her a call

and tell her that we would be delighted

to cooperate in every way.

Every way?

I hope that doesn't include opening our records.

I think I can handle the situation, doctor.

David, do you think there's any truth to it?

What's that?

Winston's death, that it might have been a murder.

Why ask me, Robert?

You knew him better than any of us.

And this one I got in a teeny little shop in Amsterdam.

- Isn't it beautiful? - Oh, amazing.

Look at that lovely workmanship.

- Amsterdam, you say? - Yes.

I was there... oh, my goodness, almost six years ago now.

My Jenny and me, we never got anywhere.

Waiting for my retirement, we were.

Then we were gonna see it all.

I'm sorry.

You would have had a wonderful time.

I was always so envious

of all the others who had someone to share with.

Oh? Then you traveled alone, did you?

Oh, it wasn't so bad really.

Well, that was the hospital.

I've been invited back this afternoon at 4:00.

You know, Jessica, if there is any monkey business

going on over there, they'll be on their gad.

Well, I just wish I knew a little bit more

about the people who are running that place.

Well, as of a half hour ago,

the computer still hadn't come up with anything.

Now, I think you ought to hold off until tomorrow

just in case.

Yes, but the invitation is open now, Timothy.

Don't worry. I'll be fine.

My goodness, I wish I could type that fast.

What is it printing out?

Bills... very large bills, mostly.

Medical care doesn't come cheap these days.

Oh, yes, I know.

Fortunately, most people have some sort of insurance.

What exactly did Elliot Winston do here?

He audited accounts receivable, tracked billing,

handled problems, that kind of thing.

- And who does his job now? - No one.

I mean, I think they're interviewing people.

You've been most informative, Stephanie, you really have.

I don't suppose it would be possible for me

to see Mr. Winston's office.

Well, that wouldn't do you much good.

They've taken his files and stored them in the basement.

His files.

Now, that is a wonderful thought.

I mean, they'd be certain to show something, memos, letters,

something that would give me an insight into the man.

I'm sorry, Mrs. Fletcher. They're confidential.

I couldn't let you examine them

without authorization from Dr. Markle,

and he's gone home for the day.

Nurse Holtz. Nurse Holtz. Three West. Nurse Holtz to 3 West.

That's me. Excuse me, please.

Well, thank you, Stephanie. You've been very helpful.

Any time.

Lady, what are you doing down here?

Well--

I'm working on a story actually.

Yeah? Then why are you sneaking around in the dark?

- Well-- - Huh?

Do they know you're down here?

Oh, oh, yes, yes. I'm sure they know.

Really? Well, we'll just see about that.

Leon.

Hey, Steph. Look what I just found.

That's great, Leon. Go get yourself a cup of coffee.

Yeah, but she was--

Go get yourself a cup of coffee, okay?

I'll see you in a couple of minutes.

You don't take no for an answer, do you?

Not when it's the wrong answer.

What are you doing here, Mrs. Fletcher?

And don't tell me you're researching a book.

That's a load of bull.

Yes, but Elliot Winston's murder isn't.

Oh, please. Elliot was a nice guy.

He had a problem with booze,

and it finally caught up with him a few nights ago.

It's as simple as that.

I'm afraid that is not true.

The pieces just don't fit--

Not for the police and certainly not for me.

Stephanie, he had some papers in his apartment,

papers that he brought from work.

He was about to expose something about this hospital.

Now, do you know what that might have been?

Look, I just work here.

Did it have anything to do with unnecessary surgery,

the kind that they were planning to perform on me?

Yes, that is what he was onto.

It was insurance fraud, right?

They wouldn't have killed him, not for that.

Who? Who's "they"? Dr. Latimer?

Dr. Markle? Dr. Zachary.

I think you better go.

Stephanie, don't make it any worse for yourself.

Don't make me call Leon, Mrs. Fletcher.

He's not always very nice.

Look, if you know anything,

I suggest that you talk to the police.

I'll tell you what you are, Jessica.

- You're a willful, foolish woman. - Oh, Timothy!

And one of these days that fearless curiosity of yours

is gonna get you in a lot of trouble.

But I was never in danger, believe me.

Forgive me if I don't believe you.

Grace and I sat around until nearly 10:00

waiting for your call.

Good. I'm sure you had a very good time.

And then when I couldn't stand it any longer,

I called your hotel, and they told me

that you'd gone to bed and don't wish to be disturbed.

I don't suppose you've heard from Stephanie Holtz.

No, and I don't expect to.

She sounds like a very self-protective young lady.

As for the others, here's what the computer picked up

on those doctors who run the place.

You'll be especially interested in the top file.

Dr. Craig Zachary. A phony?

The real Dr. Zachary is practicing in Joplin, Missouri.

This one seems to have borrowed his credentials.

Well, I'm going to see Larson about getting a court order

to go over that Old York organization from top to bottom.

Good.

Of course, the trouble is,

it may turn out to be a den of thieves.

But it still doesn't answer the big question:

who killed Elliot Winston?

I am not gonna request a court order.

- Sir-- - Forget it, Hanratty!

Just let the bunco squad handle it.

Sir, the Elliot Winston murder is directly connected--

And will you please stop

referring to that man's death as murder?

Look, ever since you and that Fletcher woman

compromised my suspect, the DA refuses to go forward.

Now, do you know how that makes me look?

Yes, Sir. Like the fool you are.

What?

I don't know where you got your badge, Sir,

or how you happened to make precinct captain.

Oh, you be very careful, Hanratty!

But there is one thing I know for sure, captain.

You're no cop, and you never will be.

Now, if you'll excuse me, captain,

I'm gonna file my report with the police commissioner.

And I'm gonna forward it to him without your blessing.

Because one thing for sure:

I'm going to get that court order.

Watch it, lady!

Coming at you, Harry.

Dear heavens.

Will you tell the lieutenant to meet me

at the Old York hospital as soon as possible?

It's very important. Thank you.

Tell Bob I'll give him a call

after I've talked to the people at the bank.

I don't anticipate any problems.

With the kind of money we're depositing,

I shouldn't think you would.

Listen, I'd say have a nice vacation, David,

but I know better.

Oh, I might find a few hours for some scuba diving.

Yeah, I hear the action at poolside isn't bad either.

Mrs. Fletcher. What a surprise.

Hello, Dr. Latimer.

How's it coming with your research, hmm?

Any problems?

Actually, what I need are some personal insights

that only you can give me.

Ah, well, I'd like to help, Mrs. Fletcher,

but I have a plane to catch.

Oh, yes, your Caribbean vacation.

- Oh, dear. - Uh-huh.

Well, actually, this wouldn't take that long.

When I get back.

Well, that might be too late. Well, I mean--

You know, we discovered the most curious thing

about Elliot Winston's autopsy report.

Oh? What was that?

Well, it was his right vocal cord.

It had a tiny little cut on it.

Don't you find that odd?

No. Why should I?

If we could just spend a few moments together.

Perhaps we could have a cup of coffee in the cafeteria.

Really, Mrs. Fletcher. I don't have time.

You know, I know I think what caused that little cut.

It was that little nasogastric tube put through his nose

to provide passage to the stomach.

Was it?

And do you know why that tube was slipped into his throat?

So a toxic amount of alcohol could be pumped into his stomach

to make it look as if he'd drunk himself to death.

Don't you want to know where you slipped up, doctor?

Slipped up?

I don't know what you're talking about.

It was the newspaper.

Do you remember saying...

"I always knew he'd end up in some alley

with a newspaper for a blanket"?

How did you know that he was covered by a newspaper, doctor?

Only the man who robbed him knew that, and his killer.

Why are you so anxious to get to the Caribbean, doctor?

Because they can't extradite you, is that it?

Are you going to leave the others to face the authorities?

Are they supposed to take the blame

for the murder that you committed?

Good-bye, Mrs. Fletcher.

Stephanie, if he gets out, they'll never catch him.

Leon!

I think the lady wants you to stay, Doc, so I guess you stay.

Well, Jessica,

the man's confession was short and to the point.

Elliot confided in Latimer, thinking he was his friend.

Latimer knocked him out

and then forced the whiskey down his throat with a tube

so as his death would be overlooked.

- And the others had no idea? - About the murder? No.

Of course, they were all greedy thieves,

but Latimer was the only one desperate enough to kill

to protect their sleazy little gold mine.

Oh, good gracious. Look at the time.

Oh, I'd better be getting you to the airport, Jessica.

Oh, but I have over two hours.

Well...

The fact is, Jessica...

All right, you two. Now, what is it?

Well, Jessica darling,

actually, it's my nephew Sean and his lovely wife Maggie.

I've told them so much about Grace that, well,

the dear ones have invited us for dinner

so as they could get acquainted, as they say.

I hope you don't mind.

Mind?

Of course I don't mind.

Well, what are we waiting for?