All language subtitles for Murder.She.Wrote.S04E08.Steal.Me.a.Story.WEBRip.x264-ION10

Believe me, I'm going
to deal with Sid Sharkey

in the strongest possible terms.

[Jessica] Tonight, on Murder, She Wrote.

Shortly before the explosion,

a woman's footsteps were heard
in the vicinity of his office.

She's got 87 lines. Eighty-seven.

Almost as much as me.

If you want that narcissistic
egomaniac on the set,

you're gonna have to get him yourself.

You're the director! You handle this!

I'm just lucky I wasn't in the same room
with him when the bomb went off.

I told you to mind your own business.

Oh, dear Lord.

[cheerful orchestral music]

Well now, Anne, lookee here.

If that don't beat all.

See that scar?

Well, good heavens, doctor.

That looks like an old knife wound.

It sure does.

I guess we know what that means.

I'm sorry, doctor.

You're way ahead of me, as usual.

Unless I miss my guess,

Dalton Ramsey was severely wounded,

oh, I'd say no more than two months ago.

Which means he was the one
who hid in the alley

waiting for Agatha Baxendale's
chauffeur to respond

to the blackmail note that had been sent

to Agatha's brother-in-law, Sidney,

the night before Naomi
Randall's elopement with...

Ran off with who?

Siegfried Perlmutter.

Siegfried, Perlmutter, Naomi?

Who comes up with these names anyway?

All right, cut!

[buzzer buzzes]

See, that's what we're selling here.

Gary's down-home, easygoing style.

Brenda's the big-city counterpart--

Urban, tough, independent.

That gets us access
to the younger female audience.

Now, when I say "tough",

I mean strong, but not enough
to turn off our male appeal.

Gary's our star, so let him be the engine

that drives the story.

Think of Brenda as...

the fireman stoking the engine.

So every week
Dr. Steve Valiant gets involved

with a major crime.

Right.

And Dr. Valiant solves the case

with foxy down-home common sense...

Mm-hmm.

...assisted by his street-smart
big-city nurse.

Keep the contrast sharp.

And in the end, Dr. Valiant
beats up the bad guys

and hands them over to the police.

More or less.

[clears throat] Mr. Stone,

I don't want you to think
that I'm ungrateful

for this opportunity,

but I'm not sure that I could

think of a story line that you would like.

Don't worry, honey.

Have I got a great plot for you.

Batted it out last night.

This is very good.

You bet it is.

The only thing is--

Well, this business with the poison

and the dead brother who faked his death,

and then the switch at the end
with the fire at the mortuary,

isn't that the same
as J.B. Fletcher's new book?

Similar. I read it last week.

Well, actually, I didn't read it.

Somebody gave me
a three-paragraph synopsis.

I don't know.

I don't think I could just
steal her plot line.

Honey,

what do you think television's all about?

We haven't got time to--
to think up new plots.

Yeah, but--

Look, miss Yamada, I'm a busy guy.

Now, the network says,
"use a female writer."

Well, okay. I'm using one.

The bucks are good.

You get your foot in the door.

Now, you want this gig or don't you?

Mrs. Fletcher, the newspaper said

you were leaving town today.

[chuckling]

My publisher is an absolute tyrant.

Having a chance to meet
my readers is such a pleasure.

"To Lydia, a devoted reader.

Love, Jessica Fletcher."

Oh, I thank you!

Wait till I show the girls.

-Good evening.
-Good evening, Mrs. Fletcher.

I-I don't want to buy a book.

I-I mean, I bought one last week.

But, um...

Yes?

Is there somewhere
we could talk privately?

It's very important.

I mean, this is a tremendous
break for me, Mrs. Fletcher.

I can earn more from this one script

than I've made in the past two years.

But stealing your story?

No way.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know

what was happening.

And I appreciate your telling me, Gayle.

This Mr. Stone sounds like
a very dishonest person.

He's a television producer.

Oh, now.

You're much too young to be that cynical.

Well, I'm afraid if I don't do this,

he'll find someone who will.

If I were you, I would get a lawyer.

Well, why don't we cross
that bridge when we come to it?

Cookie?

Oh, thank you.

Meanwhile...

Yes?

Well, what about you and me

coming up with a new story?

Something that this gentleman
may like even better.

Oh, no, no, no.

I-I couldn't impose on you like that.

Why not?

I think it would be a lot of fun.

And if your Mr. Stone
likes this scenario better,

well, then you can tell him

it's instead of stealing
the plot of my book.

You're out on a ledge, Rocco.

Come to grips with your iniquity

while you still have a chance.

[scoffs]

How in the name of sweet St. Peter

am I supposed to say this garbage?

Ask the director, Gary.

He seems to have all the answers.

Mr. Puzo thinks of us
as talking furniture.

Well, I guess we'll have
to fix it ourselves

like we always do.

Brenda, you fix this,

and I'm putting you up for an Emmy.

Gary, honey-- Excuse me.

Leo just called.

He says he has to talk to you right away.

Leo, huh?

Sounds expensive.

Leo's phone calls usually are.

Wait'll you see what our
road company John Huston's

gonna do with our next scene...

aside from the obvious.

Not going well?

About the same as usual.

They even ran out of coffee.

Bert?

Problem, Bren?

Edie, sweetheart,
move to your left a little.

Perhaps you could tell me
what the dramatic values are

in this scene we're about to shoot.

It's about two pages long,

and we have to have it in the can by 4:00.

Which means we hit our marks
and say our lines.

Charlie, what are you
waiting for, a solar eclipse?

Let's get the show on the road.

Leo, I'm not interested
in putting any more money

into them Mexican hamburger joints.

Look, Leo, I'm getting
real tired of pouring

my paychecks down a rathole.

[chuckles] Well-well,
that's just fine, old buddy,

but I sure don't feel rich!

I had more money in my jeans

when I was hauling furniture
back in Richmond.

Look, Leo, I don't want
to talk about it now.

Call me later.

Later, Leo!

Take it easy, hon.

Here's your tea.

Bloodsucker!

[chuckles] Ten percent to Leo,
ten percent to my agent

never mind my personal manager,
my lawyer, my publicist.

[chuckles]

And all out of a lousy 50,000 an episode.

I know, sweetheart.

It gets me too.

You're worth twice that.

Where would this show be without me?

[scoffs] It sure ain't the scripts.

And it sure ain't miss Brass Bottom.

[chuckles]

Diane, did you see the new script?

They're beefin ' up her part.

She's got 87 lines.

Eighty-seven! Almost as much as me.

Maybe something's goin' on.

Maybe they're trying to push me out.

Executive producer, 12:00 high.

Hey, Sid, welcome.

I just came from Dailies.

Do you call that stuff film?

Where were you yesterday--
your head, I mean?

Oh, come on, Sid--

No, you come on.

You're already a day behind schedule.

Do you know what that is in dollars?

Maybe if I was seeing
Citizen Kane up on the screen--

Will you give me a break?

I got a blind cameraman,
the gaffer's loaded by 10:00,

and kindly Dr. Steven Valiant

can't remember two sentences in a row!

Always got an excuse, huh, baby?

Hey listen, you think
you can do any better?

It's all yours.

But I gotta tell you,
Patterson's bad news.

I know he's the show, Sid,
but you got to do something.

No, you got to do something.

Hey, I gotta call Kate
Hollander over at the network.

I got a new series cooking.

Undercover Urchins.

Five little street kids:
black, white, yellow.

You know, assorted colors.

But the neat thing is - get this -

they work for the cops,

solving crimes.

Sounds great.

Yeah, it's got good topspin.

If it goes, I'm gonna use you on it...

if you get Gary Patterson
straightened out.

Okay? Huh? Okay?

Excuse me. Mr. Sharkey.

Hey, sweetheart, how's it goin'?

Lousy, thanks.

I want to talk to you
about this new script.

Yeah, what about it?

Who writes this crap anyway?

And then she starts down the stairs

into the dark, damp basement.

The dark figure in the shadow
steps forward,

but we only see his feet.

Yeah, yeah.

It's-it's-it's nice. It's very nice.

Listen, miss Yamada--

Very nice?

Well, it's even pretty good.

But it's not our kind of story.

Well, I'm sorry.

Honey, it's too original.

Our audience doesn't want
to think about what's going on.

They tune in Danger Doctor
to see something... familiar.

Hey, if it were up to me,
I could maybe give it a shot.

Miss Fletcher was afraid
this was gonna happen.

Fletcher, what's she got to do with this?

Well, this new story,
it's-it's really her idea.

Well, you see, I went to see her.

You saw J.B. Fletcher?

What for?

Well, to tell her.

To-to tell her what,

that we're ripping off one of her stories?

Oh, beautiful.

Honey, I can see
that you've got a real future

in this business.

Listen, we'll be talking to your agent.

Look, I'm sorry, Mr. Stone.

But-- But in good conscience, I--

Yeah. Honey, do yourself a favor.

That conscience of yours?

Lose it.

Thanks for stopping by.

And my name is Gayle.

Gayle, calm down.

I'll handle this.

Look, the network has been negotiating

for the rights on one of my books

for a miniseries.

Oh, yes, there is definitely
something that I can do

about Mr. Stone and Mr. Sharkey.

Miss Hollander's office.

I'm sorry, she's on another line.

May I take a message?

Oh, yes, Mr. Bernstein.

I have you on the list.

Yes, three times.

I've told her.

Yes, sir. I'll tell her again.

Good afternoon.

Hello. I'm Jessica Fletcher.

I have an appointment.

Oh, yes, Mrs. Fletcher.

Miss Hollander's tied up at the moment,

but the moment she's free,
I'll tell her you're here.

-Please have a seat.
-Thank you.

That sounds a lot like a threat, Sidney.

Kate, this is Sid Sharkey.

Right.

Kate, we're talking high concept here.

Orphaned kids of the street
facing danger every minute

to uphold the American way of life.

Sid, you're talking the
dead-end-kids-meet-mod-squad .

It's as stale as a week-old bagel.

Kate, I don't think that you remember

that you're talking to the man
who's responsible

for one of your few hits.

Wrong, Sidney.

They tune in to see Gary and Brenda.

Besides, Avery Stone is twice
the producer you are.

You've been in on a pass since day one.

Well, I'm sorry to hear you
say that, Katie.

When the boys in New York

start getting nervous
about next year's schedule,

I hope it doesn't come down
to a choice between you and me!

Have a nice day!

[buzzer buzzes]

Yes?

Mrs. Fletcher to see you, miss Hollander.

Oh, yes.

Have her come in.

I mean, I'm-I'm hurt and bewildered

and a little angry, miss Hollander,

that this kind of, well, outright theft

could be permitted.

I can assure you, Mrs. Fletcher,

that this sort of behavior
is not condoned here...

certainly not by me.

Well, I was sure that it wasn't.

And while I have not read your new book,

I'm sure it's delightful.

I've been a fan of
yours for so many years.

Oh, thank you.

Which is why I've been
fighting so hard to do

that earlier book of yours
as a miniseries.

-Murder at the Asylum?

I loved every page.

Oh, dear, I must be confused.

I think that we're negotiating
Calvin Canterbury's Revenge.

Yes, of course we are.

And that one was even better.

-Mrs. Fletcher.
-Jessica.

Believe me, I'm going
to deal with Sid Sharkey

in the strongest possible terms.

You have my word.

He will no longer be a bother to you.

Thank you.

I feel very relieved, miss Hollander.

Good-bye.

What the hell is this "get in here now"?

The last time I looked, we were partners!

Right. Sixty 40, and I'm the 60.

What's going on between you
and Kate Hollander?

What?

You been sucking up to her behind my back?

Of course not.

Buddy boy, I can feel the knife

between my shoulder blades.

All of a sudden,
you're the fair-haired boy.

You, who couldn't even get arrested

in this town a couple of years ago.

You, with so many bombs on your resume,

you could stock your own arsenal.

Hey, I don't have to take this.

You don't make that show go.

I do. Me!

Oh, come on, Sid.

You don't even know which end
of the camera the film goes in.

You think I can't run this series?

Well, buddy boy,
you've never been more wrong.

You're through.

Oh, no. We got a contract.

Talk to my lawyer.

-Get out!
-No, no.

You're gonna be talking to my lawyer!

You want me out of here, Sid?

Fine.

I'll be able to retire ten times over

on what I'm gonna get out of you.

And meantime, I'm gonna keep on working.

And if you want me out, buddy boy,

you're gonna have to throw me out!

[buzzer buzzes]

What?

The director called, Mr. Sharkey.

Gary Patterson just walked off the set.

Well, what do they want me to do about it?

You're the director! You handle it!

Sid! Wait a minute!

What do you want me to do,

threaten him with suspension
or replacement?

It's your responsibility!

Get serious, will ya?

Look, if you want
that narcissistic egomaniac

on the set, you're gonna
have to get him yourself.

I don't talk to actors.

Schmooze him.

Give him anything, promise him anything.

Just get him back to work.

Because if you don't,

I'm yanking you off the picture.

Do that!

Come here a minute.

Remember a couple of years ago
when I found you

in that motel room in Tijuana,
your brain half-fried

from that stuff you were
putting up your nose?

Do you remember who kept his mouth shut

and gave you your first shot
when you got out?

I never said I wasn't grateful.

Then do me a favor,

get Patterson back to work.

Now, you understand
what I'm saying to you.

Sid...

I'm in kind of a hurry, baby.

...a week ago I asked you

to write me out of the next three shows.

I can't do that.

Buddy Perlman wants me
for his new feature.

Now, Sid, this is a real break.

But my agent has to know today.

What do I have to do, beg?

Sweetheart, listen to me.

Forget features. Forget Perlman.

You're a TV star making big bucks.

I'm warning you, I'll walk.

You do, and you'll be slingin' hash

at Dinty Moore's the rest of your life.

We've got a contract,
you and me, remember?

Now it may be a trap,
but it's lined with mink,

so like they say, lay back and enjoy it.

Excuse me, I'm looking for Mr. Sharkey.

Oh, I'm sorry. He's not here.

Well, I'm Jessica Fletcher, and I--

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.

I'm Freida Schmidt.

-I'm Mr. Sharkey's secretary.
-How do you do?

I have your message
for Mr. Sharkey right here.

I'm sure he'll return your call
as soon as possible.

Yes, well, I have
a great deal to say to him,

and given a choice,
I'd rather say it in person.

Uh-huh.

[phone ringing]

Mr. Sharkey's office.

Oh, Mr. Perlman.

Lunch tomorrow.

The polo lounge at 1:00.

I'll see that he gets the message.

Almost 7:00.

Time to call it a day.

Yes. Well, I wonder--

May I use your phone to call a cab?

Well, where are you staying?

I'll be glad to drop you.

Oh, no, I couldn't bother you.

Nonsense, I'd be delighted.

Well, thank you. That's very kind indeed.

Nothing waiting for me at
home except an antisocial cat

and a TV dinner.

[door closes]

[door closes]

Good evening, Mr. Stone.

Good evening, Carmen.

Another late night, sir?

[door closes]

[footsteps]

Sounds like I'm not the only one.

Now, that's strange.

I thought that you were
the last person still here.

[elevator bell dings]

Avery! Hey, fellow, listen.

I'm sorry about that little
blowup this afternoon.

You always are, Sid, sooner or later.

No hard feelings?

No more than usual.

Listen, big guy.

The company's down on stage 44.

They're moving slower
than a three-legged turtle.

Puzo's in his trailer
with another anxiety attack.

You hired him, Sid!

Yeah, well, this time he's through.

You find out whoever's available,

'cause we're gonna
dump him in the morning.

Carmen, ever consider becoming
a highly paid producer?

-No.
-Don't.

[explosion]

[sirens wailing]

[people chattering]

[sirens]

Jessica Fletcher.

Lieutenant Bradshaw, please.

Mr. Stone's office.

End of the corridor, turn left.

-Thank you.
-You're welcome.

They broke for a meal 30 minutes ago.

Gayle?

Mrs. Fletcher, what are you doing here?

I was summoned here.

But what in the world is going on?

Sid Sharkey's dead.

Something about a bomb.

That's all I know.

Oh, Lord.

Have a seat.

[sobbing]

I may need you later.

Just who are you?

Jessica Fletcher. And you?

Take a seat inside.

Excuse me, lieutenant, may I ask why--

Just where in the hell
is this Hollander woman?

We called her an hour ago.

Lieutenant, I don't think

that we're gonna be able to get her.

I want her here in five minutes.

If she's not here,
send the car and bring her.

Sir, the head of the studio says
that she's a very influential--

I couldn't care if she was
the queen of Hollywood.

I want her here now.

If you please, ma'am.

[sobbing]

[clears throat]

Oh, you may sit down.

Why, thank you, lieutenant...

Bradshaw.

Where have you been for these

past three hours, Mrs. Fletcher?

And can you prove it?

Now just one moment, lieutenant Bradshaw.

I am here of my own free will.

For what reason, I have no idea.

And before I answer any of your questions,

I'd like to know why I was summoned

so abruptly to this studio.

Shortly before 9:00,

Sidney Sharkey was blown to his reward

by a sizable amount of dynamite,

the said explosive being hidden
in what we believe to be

a package wrapped in pink,
feminine wrapping paper.

Now, shortly before the explosion,

a woman's footsteps were heard
in the vicinity of his office.

Yeah, but what's that got to do with me?

I mean, I was never involved
with Mr. Sharkey.

I don't even know him.

You see, I am a writer-- a novelist.

Oh, I know who you are.

I even read a few of your books
a few years back.

Frankly, it was a waste of my time.

Well, thank you.

You called the guy you didn't know,

said you had to speak to him
on an urgent matter.

Yeah, well, I can explain that.

Now, true or not:

Sharkey was going to steal your plotline

of your latest book, wasn't he?

Yes, he was trying to steal it,

but, my goodness,
that was no reason for me

to resort to murder to stop him.

No?

You came to see him around 7:00.

Yes, and I left at 7:10.

The guard checked you in
and never checked you out.

Because his secretary and I
left by the back staircase.

It was a quicker way to get to her car.

But you could've
come back later the same way.

That's ridiculous.

Oh, we'll see.

I'm not involved, Mrs. Fletcher.

I did not leave that package.

Well, don't take it personally.

Lieutenant Bradshaw seems to be
accusing every woman in sight,

including me.

But I had no alibi.

I mean, I was at my apartment
from about 4:00,

writing until about 10:30,

when this policeman came to my door

to take me to the studio.

And you were alone?

Except for my canary.

Mrs. Fletcher,

I haven't been here
in Hollywoodland for very long,

but one thing I have learned:

protect your fanny at all costs.

I mean, this creep Bradshaw
is out to make brownie points

by solving this murder.

Well, that was my impression precisely.

By the way, do you have an alibi for 8:45?

I was soaking in a hot tub.

Anyone with you?

Thank you.

I know that... [clears throat]

...Sid would have appreciated this--

this moment of respect.

As some of you already know,
we will be dedicating

the remainder of this season
to his memory.

Okay, folks, back to work now.

Bert.

I don't want any repeat of last night.

What are you talking about?

I am paying you to direct the picture,

not your assistant.

I understand that you
went off to your trailer

a half-hour before dinner break.

I wasn't feeling well, Avery.

I had the shakes. I nearly passed out.

Working for Sid will do that to you.

Well, you're working for me now.

What's past is past.

So deliver me a picture, okay?

You got it.

Mr. Stone.

-Mrs. Fletcher, isn't it?
-Yes.

I'm-- I'm terribly sorry

you had to get involved in all this.

Yes--

Say, you know that story

that you worked out with miss Yamada?

Personally, I loved it.

But Sid--

well, Sid never did have much taste.

So nice to meet you.

Mr. Stone, I wonder if I could

bother you for a few minutes.

I need to talk to you about last night.

Sorry, I don't know anything
about last night.

Oh, yes, of course.

You left just before the explosion.

I'm just lucky I wasn't
in the same room with him

when the bomb went off.

Yes. I suppose
now that Mr. Sharkey's dead,

you'll be in charge.

Look, Mrs. Fletcher,

whatever's going on here
is none of your concern.

Furthermore, you have
no business being on this set,

or on the studio grounds, for that matter.

And I'd very much appreciate it
if you'd leave.

Mrs. Fletcher, excuse me.

-I'm Diane Crane.
-Oh, yes.

I'm a close personal friend
of the star, Gary Patterson.

He's in his dressing room now,

and he would really adore to meet you.

-Oh.
-Please.

Well, now. Whoa!

[laughing] This gal's not only a brain,

she's a mighty powerful armful too.

Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am.

Well, it's mutual, Mr. Patterson.

You know, I just love your movies.

Movies?

Hell, I haven't had a movie in nine years.

Please, sit down. Thank you.

No, sir.

I don't care to.

Television, that's where it's at.

Reaching tens of millions of people,

week in and week out.

Yeah-- Oh, and please, call me Gary.

-[knocking]
-Yes?

We're ready for you on
the set there, Mr. Patterson.

Is Sarah Bernhardt
out of her motor home yet?

I'm not sure, sir.

Well, son, you come back
when you are sure.

Okay.

Well, now, Jessica...

[chuckles]

...if you watch television,
I'm sure you know

that good writers are scarcer
than snowballs in Tallahassee.

[laughs]

Which is why I am prepared

to make you a million-dollar proposition.

What?

Oh, no, really--

Now hear me out, little lady.

I'm not talking about
just writing an episode.

No, ma'am. Mm-mmm.

I want you to ramrod the scripts--

all of'em.

[chuckling] But I don't know anything

about writing for television.

What's to know?

"He said," "she said," blah, blah, blah.

I was here last night from 8:30 to 9:30

just trying to make sense
of my next scene.

Oh, you were here alone?

Yes-- Well, no.

I mean, well, me and the little lady--

Gary likes to bounce his ideas off of me.

-[knocking]
-Yes?

Oh, Gary, excuse me.

So sorry to bust in.

Mrs. Fletcher, I believe
I asked you politely

to leave the lot.

She is talking to me, Stone.

Oh, fine.

But, uh, when she's finished,

I would like to have her
escorted out the main gate.

Mr. Stone, I'm afraid that that presents

something of a problem.

You see, Mr. Patterson
has offered me a job

developing scripts for the show,

and I've decided to accept.

I'm so sorry we couldn't
get you something better,

but... they give
all the really good offices

to the movie people.

Ah, I think this is lovely.

Oh, you should see what the genius

in the corner office has.

His last two pictures
lost 30 million bucks.

His fridge is stuffed with Beluga caviar.

[chuckling]

Us, they send beer nuts.

Well, anything you need,
I'll be right outside.

Just buzz.

Freida, I haven't had an opportunity

to extend my condolences.

I understand you were
with Mr. Sharkey for 15 years.

Seventeen.

Even before he was
the Hollywood wunderkind.

You know, everything that man touched

turned into a 40 share.

Everything, and then, poof.

Well, you must have been very close.

Actually, I hated the warthog.

You know, I didn't start out
as a secretary.

Oh, yes.

Nah, nah, nah, nothing like that.

I was his assistant.

I was supposed to get a shot at producing.

[chuckles] At least
that's what he promised me.

But he always found an excuse
to keep me at the file drawer.

By the time I realized
what a louse he was,

it was too late.

He paid me so much, I had to stay.

You know, Freida,

that package wasn't on the desk at 7:00.

Somebody must have
put it there after we left.

Oh, sure.

The woman, the one
whose footsteps they heard.

Probably.

Still, is there anything
that happened that day,

anything that you can remember
that was out of the ordinary?

It was the same old stuff.

I mean, Sid was aggravating
people right and left.

You know, there is something I did notice.

What was that?

I got a quick look inside his office

right after the explosion,
just before they sealed it up,

and one of the file drawers was open.

Now, I would never have left it
open like that, ever.

Was there anything special
in that particular file drawer?

Mm-hmm, all his personal files.

Correspondence, contracts,
that sort of thing.

Freida, is it possible
you could invent a reason

to look in that drawer?

Sure, why not?

Good.

Let me know what you find or don't find.

Meanwhile, I'm going to have
a chat with Mr. Avery Stone.

Come on, Chuck.

You tired of the show, or what?

Lay off, Avery. I approved the set.

It looks great.

Since when are you an expert?

That sloping ceiling--

That looks good?

You think we're casting midgets here?

Eighty-six the ceiling, Chuck.

And the wallpaper and the windows.

Dump it.

And I want a new set of plans
on my desk by 6:00.

Okay, boys? Okay.

-Oh--
-Sorry.

Mrs. Fletcher, we keep
bumping into each other.

Yes.

How's your new office?

Oh, just fine, thank you.

Great. You know, it's really terrific

having you on the show.

I can't tell you how long I've been trying

to get the network people to do new ideas,

fresh, original story lines.

Well, I'm just beginning to grasp

what an enormous responsibility I have.

I mean, trying to please everyone.

Oh, poor Mr. Sharkey.

No wonder everyone was sniping at him.

You know, I had no idea

how universally disliked he was.

Yeah.

His passing has left
a real void in my life.

Oh, yes. I'm sure.

But I'm not sure that Kate Hollander,

our lady at the network,

shares the same sense of loss.

The Iron Nightingale?

[chuckles]

She hated Sid.

You know why? Because she needed him.

He talked her into putting
Danger Doctor on the air.

She thought the show was garbage.

Of course, once it was a hit,

she started taking bows all over town.

[pager beeps]

Another crisis.

I have to get to a phone.

-Excuse me.
-Oh.

Oh. You know that new story
of miss Yamada's?

Put it into work right away.

It's clever, original, and who knows?

It might even make a good episode.

[tires squeal]

[horn honking]

Jessica.

Thank heavens I found you.

Diane, what is it, what's the matter?

I've been looking all over for you.

It's this latest script.

Gary absolutely hates it.

I'm sorry. I haven't had a chance--

Gary would never dream
of asking you himself,

but if you could just see your way

to do some polish on it.

But I'm not a screenwriter.

I mean...

Well, Gary has some wonderful ideas.

If you could sit down with him
for just a few minutes...

No, really.

Writing a script is Avery Stone's job.

That hack?

He has not had an original idea
in his whole life.

Jessica, please.

I really don't want to disappoint Gary.

He's having such a rough time lately.

Diane, how long have you been doing this?

Doing what?

Running interference for Mr. Patterson.

I mean, I love that act.

You know, that folksy, warm,
down-home character.

But that's really all it is, isn't it?

It's just an act.

No.

And as long as he's got you
to do his dirty work for him,

he can maintain that image.

Isn't that right?

He wants everybody to love him.

Inside, he's just a scared little boy.

I guess that comes with being a star.

And did Mr. Sharkey love him?

Maybe I should turn that question around.

How did he feel about Sid Sharkey?

Gary didn't kill him.

I didn't ask you that.

Gary was in his dressing room
during the supper break,

the entire time.

I'll swear to it.

And will he swear

that you were there with him
the entire time?

Oh, Diane.

Even a blind man can see

that you two were lying earlier.

I did leave the dressing room
for a short time.

He needed some medicine from home.

I left by the back gate.

Our house isn't very far from here.

I wasn't gone long, really.

When we learned that they had heard

a woman's footsteps in the corridor

shortly before the explosion,

well, we just decided to keep quiet.

Do you think we did the wrong thing?

I think that you should tell
lieutenant Bradshaw the truth.

He's a bulldog, but he's fair.

And until he has all the facts,

I don't think he'll make
any wild accusations.

You did it, honey.

[shutter clicking] You killed the guy,

and I'm this far from proving it.

That's a slanderous
accusation, lieutenant.

That's all right. I can handle this, Leon.

Oh, you say you have no alibi

after 8:00 p.m. the night of the murder.

Nor do I need one.

Why would she kill him?

They were close.

In fact, miss Hollander was on the verge

of buying a new series from the man.

Make sure you get that in the story.

Could we stop worrying
about publicity here?

Miss Hollander is being interrogated

in connection with a murder.

Which just happens to be front-page stuff.

Look, we know she's not guilty.

You know it, but I don't.

Oh, lieutenant.

I told you you were wasting your time

when you walked in here.

Obviously this is just
a fishing expedition.

[laughs]

Or maybe the lieutenant
is looking for a little press

of his own with this
unwarranted interrogation.

Miss Hollander, did you or did you not

tell Mrs. J. B. Fletcher -

and I have a direct quote -

"I'm going to deal with Sid Sharkey

in the strongest possible terms"?

Oh, for heaven's sake.

"You have my word he will
no longer be a problem."

It was just an expression.

Sounds more like a threat to me.

[phone rings]

-This is a total waste of time.
-Hello?

Look, miss Hollander is trying

to cooperate, lieutenant.

Then have her tell me where
she was between 8:00 and 10:30

the night Sharkey was killed!

I was in bed, reading scripts.

Terrific.

My secretary was in the bed too -

taking notes.

Don't write that down.

That was USA today.

They want to do
a three-column layout on you

in Thursday's edition.

Work it out.

Now, where were we?

I believe we were discussing dictation.

-Hello, Gayle.
-Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh. Are you really sure that you
want to be in this business?

I'm really beginning to wonder.

What have we got here?

CAA? ICM? APA?

These sound like some sort of
ballistic missiles.

-Agents. [chuckles]
-Oh.

News of your new job traveled fast.

They're calling with their congratulations

and their client lists--

not necessarily in that order.

I gather that, uh, you've, uh,

heard from Mr. Stone about our story.

Yes.

And I don't want you to think
that I'm ungrateful,

but, well, maybe we just have
so many words in us,

and I'm not sure that I want
to waste any of mine

on fearless Steve Valiant, MD.

Well, you won't get any argument from me.

Well, the fact is,
I've got 40 pages of a novel

in my desk drawer,

and, well, although I know

it means starvation for a while,

l-I'd like to give it another try.

Good for you.

And when you think you're ready
to have it read,

I'd be glad to look at it.

-Would you?
-Of course.

[chuckles]

Oh, that's just super.

And good luck.

Oh, thanks, Mrs. Fletcher.

Thanks.

Hi.

Well, what about that file drawer?

Did you manage to get a look?

I sure did.

And one piece of paper
is conspicuously absent:

Brenda Blake's personal services contract

with Sid Sharkey.

You've stitched your last sutures, Doc.

You won't shoot me.

You haven't the guts.

Steve--

-Cut!
-[buzzer buzzes]

Okay, Mario.

Bring in the stunt people, please.

Stunt people now, please.

Miss Blake, we have to talk right away.

Look, I'm in the next shot.

Hey, is this-- Is this about my movie?

No, it's about your contract--

the one that disappeared from the files

in Sid Sharkey's office.

I'm-- I'm sorry, I don't know what you're-

Mrs. Fletcher.

Lieutenant.

What are you doing here?

Maybe we came up
with the same three cherries

on the slot machine,

but I've got the warrant.

Brenda Blake,

I'm placing you under arrest

for the murder of Sidney Sharkey.

I didn't kill him.

I mean, why would I?

You're an actress, sweetheart.

Buddy Perlman had offered you
a big part in his movie.

Sharkey wouldn't let you out.

And for me, that's motive
enough for murder.

Who says he wasn't going to let me out?

Ah!

The fact is, Bert Puzo told me

that Sid was having lunch with Perlman

the next day at the Polo Lounge.

Do you know what that says to me?

Sid was going to sell me off
for a big price.

Oh, yes, your personal services contract.

Look, I couldn't have killed him.

During the dinner break,

I was lying down in my
motor home the whole time.

Well, that's odd.

The assistant director
came by the motor home

and knocked several times,
but you did not answer.

Well, yes, I did hear the knock,

but I was dozing, so I just
decided to ignore it.

I'm sorry, miss Blake, but I made that up.

What?

Well, you better start
telling the truth, sweetheart.

I'm running out of patience with you.

Okay, okay.

I did leave my trailer,
and I did go to Sid's office.

Now we're getting somewhere.

I had to get that contract away from him.

Do you know what it's like
doing this dumb series,

grinding out sausage
for two schlockmeisters

like Sharkey and Stone?

I-- I am an actress.

And it was your footsteps
they heard in the corridor

shortly before 9:00.

And what about the package?

The one wrapped in the pink paper?

Did you see that on the desk?

I don't know...

Wait a minute-- Yes.

Yes, I did see it.

Oh, great.

That means anyone could have
left it there earlier.

Not just anyone.

Someone specific.

You know who?

I have a good idea.

Freida, how late
is the company working tonight?

Till about midnight.

Mrs. Fletcher,

if you've got an idea, let's hear it.

Freida, would you come in, please?

Look, I don't know how legal this is

or if it'll work.

But without any real proof,

it may be the only chance
we have to catch the killer.

[indistinct chatter]

Bert?

What do you say, Freida?

I've been waiting all day
to talk to you, Bert.

You were there last night in Sid's office.

Must've been when you were
supposed to be in your trailer

having that anxiety attack.

What is this, a joke?

You had to be there.

You told Brenda about
that luncheon engagement

with Buddy Perlman at the Polo Lounge.

How'd you know about that, Bert?

The call came in at 7:00.

I put it on the calendar.

You couldn't have known about it

unless you saw his calendar

when you put the bomb on his desk.

[laughing]

You're crazy.

Look, I'm not going to the police.

Well, not yet.

Well, Sid's dead.

I need a place to land...

somewhere secure.

Oh, I'm not greedy, Bert.

You'll find I'm a very agreeable partner.

Freida, I need these notes
typed up right away.

[sighs]

Mr. Stone, it's almost 8:00.

These'll take a couple of hours.

We all have to do our bit, Freida.

Terrific.

Sure thing, Mr. Stone.

Pleasure.

We'll talk later, Bert.

[footsteps approaching]

[gasps]

Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.

Lieutenant?

Sorry, sir.

Well, nice idea while it lasted,

but he never bit.

They broke for a meal 30 minutes ago.

Puzo left the set only once,

to put his briefcase
in the trunk of his car.

And then he joined the others for supper.

His trunk?

I saw him go to his car this morning.

He doesn't have a trunk.

What kind of a car was that, sergeant,

and where was it parked?

Well, Anne, I guess
you can file this one away.

Case closed.

Cut! That's a wrap, folks.

[buzzer buzzes]

Uh, Mr. Puzo?

I know it's late,
but I have to talk to you.

You're right, Mrs. Fletcher.

It is late.

Can't this wait?

No, it can't.

What do you mean, strange?

Freida is a rock.

You're wrong.

Oh, no, no, I'm sorry.

There's something wrong.

I mean, she's been in such a strange mood,

and when I mentioned your name--

Mrs. Fletcher.

I told you to mind your own business.

Freida, you crazy?

Yes. Crazy to have ever trusted you.

Now move, both of you.

Oh, now wait just a minute-

I said move.

Before I hurt somebody.

Oh, dear Lord.

Look, I don't know
what you think you're doing--

Oh, I'm taking you to the police, Bert.

And at this point, I don't very much care

whether I drag you in alive or dead.

Now start walking.

My car's just around the corner.

I think we should do as she asks.

Puzo, get behind the wheel.

No.

Please, Mr. Puzo.

I think she means it.

Freida, you're insane.

[chuckling] Maybe I am.

Get in.

In-- and shut the door.

Let's go.

Freida, for God's sake...

Start up the engine.

Well, then I'll do it.

No!

We've already removed the bomb you planted

from the car, Mr. Puzo.

We didn't want to see
any more people get blown up.

Well, Mrs. Fletcher, I--

I guess I ought to say thanks.

You may not be much of a writer,

but you'd make one hell of a cop.

[chuckling] Well, I'll take that

in the spirit in which it was intended.

I think.

Can I give you a lift somewhere?

Oh, thanks, no.

I'm gonna to say good-bye
to Diane and Gary.

And actually, I'm resigning.

Now, don't get talked into anything.

Absolutely not.

Jessica!

Jessica, thank God I've caught you!

Hello, miss Hollander.

You cannot leave until we've talked.

If it's about the miniseries,

would you take it up with my agent?

Forget the mini.
I've got a much better idea.

-Oh?
-A weekly series:

The Jessica Fletcher Mystery Hour.

What?

The real-life adventures

of a crime-busting mystery writer.

No, no, no, no.

Oh, yes, yes.

It'll be sensational.

New, different, original, but familiar.

Miss Hollander, I don't write gunfights,

car chases or bedroom scenes,
so who would watch?

I'm sorry, but that is
absolutely the worst idea

I have ever heard.