All language subtitles for 00002Mr S Wr219

My first short story in a girlie magazine?

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote...

There's a great book in this family, Mrs. Fletcher.

Bundy Publications represent exposure.

They certainly do.

I'll see you rot in Hades before you get my publishing house, Bundy.

He's dead.

Are you telling me, the butler did it?

We don't know what we're dealing with, and, until we do, you do as I tell you.

As soon as your nephew returns, I want you both off my property.

Get Lieutenant Greco and bring him back here.

I think I've figured out who killed Mr. Bundy.

Right.

No, I don't think so.

Yes, I do understand.

I disagree.

Yes. Yes.

Well, let's not complicate a simple thing, Mr. Harrison.

You owe me the money that you borrowed.

It's Friday evening.

If the money's not repaid by 8:00 p.m. Sunday,

I own your publishing company.

Good night.

Bert.

Yes, Sir?

Chester Harrison seems to be having a hard time

understanding the situation.

Pay him a visit.

Clear things up.

Right.

Something?

The Fletcher woman-- She called six times today.

I spoke to the lawyers.

Her contract locks her in.

She won't be a problem.

Literary Lines Monthly-- Now there is a misnomer.

Anatomical, maybe. Literary? Never.

Aunt Jess, believe me. I had no idea.

Grady, my first short story

in a girlie magazine?

Look, most of the staff is ready to quit, me included.

I mean, Literary Monthly's always been a class act.

I mean, selling it to Christopher Bundy.

Who--Nobody knew, honest.

Well, Christopher Bundy--

I mean, that man has made a fortune

pandering to people's weaknesses.

Well, what if he isn't home?

Well, we'll try again on our way back from Poughkeepsie.

By the way,

thanks, Grady, for coming with me.

I hope this isn't interfering with any plans

you had for the weekend.

You mean Cynthia?

Well, actually, we're not seeing each other anymore.

As a matter of fact, aunt Jess, I'm reformed.

Really?

Yeah, no more falling in love again at first sight.

I mean, from now on, I'm gonna take my time

and get to know someone first,

and then commit myself.

Mr. Bundy's expected back from the city momentarily, Mr. Fletcher.

May I get something for you or... your mother?

- His aunt and no, thank you. - Very good, ma'am.

My. Wow.

I see your new resolution hasn't dimmed your eyesight, Grady.

What?

Mr. Bundy!

- Hello, Millicent. - Hi, Mr. Bundy.

- Finish the session? - Well, no, not yet, but--

Well, get back to the grind, honey.

Time is money. Time is money.

But, Mr. Bundy, the cement by the swimming pool

is so hot that my feet are--- Starting to get blis--

Hello! Hello!

Yeah, what I pay you, buy a case of ointment.

Mr. Bundy?

Mr. Bundy.

Yes, how nice to see you again.

Mr. Bundy. I'm Jessica Fletcher.

Mrs. Fletcher. What a delightful surprise.

I wasn't expecting to see you.

Well, I'm sure you weren't.

You know, if you had returned my telephone calls,

this intrusion would not have been necessary.

My apologies, dear lady.

It seems everybody always needs my immediate attention.

Well, what I have to say won't take long, believe me.

Nonsense.

Now that you're here, we'll have a nice long chat,

just as soon as I clear up a few tedious business details.

- I am honored that you came. - But--

This is Bert Yardley, my executive assistant.

Bert, show Mrs. Fletcher around. Introduce her to the family.

We'll get together just as soon as I'm free.

Well, Mr. Yardley, apparently we're all yours.

Just call me Bert. This way, please.

- Now watch this. - I'm ready.

Okay. Close enough.

- Let me just finish-- - Come on, it's my turn now.

We'll edit it later on.

Rachel.

Bert.

That's enough.

What are you doing here?

Excuse me, but,

Mr. Bundy wanted you to meet Mrs. Jessica Fletcher.

Her nephew, Grady. He works for the company.

Hello. Rachel Bundy.

- Delighted to meet you. - How do you do?

You're the writer, aren't you?

Yes, I'm afraid I am.

I thought so. Christopher collects them.

My children. Vanessa.

And the cameraman is my son, Antonio.

Now I'm confused. Your children?

I keep reading that your husband's

the country's most eligible bachelor.

My husband? No, no.

I'm Christopher's sister.

I'm afraid I do all the marrying in this family.

Two marriages, two children.

My uncle's much too busy to raise a family of his own,

so he settles for us.

Great.

Ouch.

Ooh! Great.

I'm not gonna be able to walk for a week.

You need some help with that?

Would you? I know you.

You're from around the office, aren't you?

I'm Grady Fletcher. I work in accounting.

It's kind of dull.

Working with all that money?

No way.

Mother, please take your shot.

I'm getting tired of holding this camera.

Excuse me.

Excuse me also.

I'll let you know when he can see you.

So would you like something to drink?

That would be nice. Do you have any ginger ale?

Enough to take a bath in.

Actually, I hate the stuff.

It's just that my doctor gave my liver only six more months

unless I shape up.

So is it true that writers come up with their ideas

by watching the world around them?

Well, some do.

Well, keep your eyes open.

There's a great book in this family, Mrs. Fletcher.

Like something out of Eugene O'Neill.

You could call it Long Day's Journey Into Oblivion.

Excuse me.

Now, this should interest you.

The Complete Works of Conan Doyle.

All first editions-- priceless.

You must read a great deal.

No, who has time? I collect.

These things are an investment. Better than gold.

Yes. Mr. Bundy--

Please, have a seat.

- Thank you. - Can I get you a drink?

No, thank you.

I'm sorry.

That afternoon sun can be blinding.

Here.

That better?

Yes, much better. Thank you.

Now, can we get down to business?

Of course.

Let me see if I can cut to the bottom line.

You are incensed at the idea

of one of your stories appearing in a magazine

sprinkled with photos of unclothed young ladies.

- Am I close? - Dead on target.

Mrs. Fletcher, over the past ten years,

my various magazines have featured

most of America's prize-winning authors.

Bundy Publications represent exposure.

They certainly do.

Mr. Bundy, I contracted to write this story

for a certain type of magazine.

Yes. Proper, stuffy, and dull.

I bought Literary Lines to change all that.

Well, no one can say that you're not trying.

Well, now, look,

I'm not familiar with the details of your contract,

but I would be happy to call my attorneys.

There must be something we can do.

What you can do is to tear it up.

Now, I must be on my way.

No, please. It's late in the day.

I would be honored if you'd spend the night as my guest.

Well, I'm sorry, but I'm visiting

old friends in Poughkeepsie over the weekend.

- You're not afraid, are you? - Afraid?

Well, that you might get to know me,

that I might destroy all those stereotypical notions

buzzing around in that pretty head of yours.

I was always told JB Fletcher was a independent woman

who makes up her own mind about things.

Mr. Bundy, don't you think

that's a rather obvious ploy?

Well, obvious, maybe, but valid.

See, if you stay overnight, you'll be here in the morning

when I talk to my attorneys.

Yes.

Yes, I suppose I could call them

and say that I would arrive tomorrow.

Please use the phone. I'll even give you some privacy.

Privacy, Mr. Bundy?

That's one of the surveillance cameras

I had installed to protect my estate.

We also have guards who watch everything.

But picture only. No sound.

And, no.

There are none in the bedrooms.

I'll see you at dinner, Mrs. Fletcher.

Looking forward to a delightful evening.

- Hi. - Hi.

Your feet still bothering you?

I think I'll live.

If I can just figure out how to get my shoe on. Can I lean on you?

- Sure. - Thanks.

- My goodness, you wear glasses. - What, me?

- ... no. - Yes you do.

See you've got those cute little marks on the side of your nose, there and there.

- I just love a man who wears glasses. - You do?

Well, actually... I do.

Millicent.

We wondered what happened to you.

Actually, Sir--

Grady was just helping me to get dressed, Mr. Bundy.

With her shoe.

Sir, there's a Mr. Harrison at the door.

- He-- - You bastard!

Chester, how nice of you.

I'll see you rot in Hades

before you get my publishing house, Bundy.

Hey, come on, pal!

This isn't the time.

Good as any. Let go of me.

Bert, it's all right.

Chester, why don't we go into the study

and discuss this quietly, like gentlemen?

Gentlemen. Don't flatter yourself.

Excuse us, please.

Chester, if there's some sort of misunderstanding,

we'll clear it up.

Dear uncle Christopher.

He has such a marvelous knack for winning friends.

That's enough, Antonio.

Grady? What is it?

I can't find Millie.

We were talking, and then she left to go do something,

and now she's gone.

Well, after modeling all day, maybe she went to bed,

which is what I'm going to do

as soon as I get a book from the library.

Yeah, I guess you're right. Good night, aunt Jess.

Good night, Grady.

And remember your timetable.

About falling hopelessly in love.

Right, sure. You bet.

Mrs. Fletcher?

I don't know if you remember me.

But of course I do. Mr. Harrison.

- We met at the Houston book fair. - You have a good memory.

Frankly, I'm surprised to see you here.

Well, the surprise is mutual.

I understand that we're crossing swords with the same man.

Yes, and I hope you fare better than I have so far.

Yes, what was that scene all about?

I'm afraid he's got my publishing house.

He's been trying-- wait.

I suggest that we--

Talk with our backs to that thing.

Who knows, there may be a lip-reader at the other end.

What was that about your publishing house?

Well, it's an old story,

trite and a little embarrassing.

I publish enough books

about the peccadilloes of middle-aged men,

I should have known better.

Good wine doesn't come cheap, Mrs. Fletcher.

Neither do bad women. I borrowed heavily.

From Bundy? - Lord, no.

But he bought up my notes from the factoring house.

Naturally, I couldn't get an extension.

Monday, I lose everything,

unless I'm willing to play his game.

- Which is? - Stay on as a figurehead.

My name still means something in the business,

but not for long.

He invited me to spend the night and sleep on it.

But surely you couldn't consider that proposition?

- What else could I do? - Fight.

Hire the best lawyer that you can.

Tie him up in court.

Go public-- Anything to get him to back off.

By God, madam. You're right.

What would Hemingway do?

He'd offer no compromise, that's what.

You know, for the first time in weeks, I may get some sleep.

Good morning!

Good morning, Mrs. Fletcher.

I trust you spent a comfortable night?

Yes, thank you. Actually...

I dreamt that I was being chased by a surveillance camera.

I'm sorry you lost sleep over it. Believe me,

they're not there for spying, only there to protect.

I'm going to shower and after breakfast we'll have that chat with the lawyers.

- Thanks for the work out, Vanessa. - Good.

He always thanks me when he beats me in straight sets.

Well, I'm glad to see I'm not the only one who hates those cameras.

Actually, it is a terrific system, though.

I may not feel comfortable here, but I do feel safe.

You'll have to take a look at it. Bet it'd be a great gimmick

- for one of your books. - Thanks, I may just do that.

Hello, Mrs. Fletcher.

Pete Morgan.

I spend most of my time watching these things,

which is why I know you, even if you don't know me.

Of course.

Just getting my usual cup of java.

It's always quiet this time on Sundays.

Well, it's nice to meet you, Pete.

You've got quite a setup here.

It's the best.

There he goes.

I swear, that man has got a bottle

stashed in every room in the house.

Don't ever get downwind of him.

And that young lady,

she makes the library her second home.

I get the impression she's quite an avid reader.

What's she up to now?

I doubt that she's speed-reading.

She sure is making a mess.

Aunt Jess, you all right?

Yes, Grady. I'm--I'm fine.

He's dead.

Come on, mama. Let me take you to your room.

No. Everybody stays together.

You don't give the orders here.

Look, Sonny!

We don't know what we're dealing with,

and, until we do, you do as I tell you.

All of you. Morgan, close the gate.

Check the fence.

Search every inch of the property now.

Right.

What are you waiting for, Jensen?

- Move. - Yes, Sir.

The rest of you, in the living room.

Come on. Let's go.

Madam!

What are you afraid of, Bert? A hit man?

I mean, hasn't it even occurred to you

that it's much more likely one of us did it?

Vanessa! - Mother, please.

I mean, we all had our reasons, even you.

Well, especially you.

Two husbands you barely even got to know

- before uncle Christopher came-- - That's enough.

I think Vanessa's got the right idea.

You lousy ingrate. He raised you like a son.

Wasn't me, Bert.

I was playing tennis with Millicent.

We both heard the shot.

I was in the dining room.

And I was out walking in the garden.

Excuse me, but I believe I saw you in the library

when your uncle was killed.

You're wrong.

Well, then the security officer is also mistaken.

We both saw you.

You mean when the shot was actually fired.

I-I'm sorry. I was confused.

You see, I was out walking in the garden.

Then I came in.

What's all this yammering about?

I know who the killer is... Harrison.

The Gate Guard just saw him racing out of here

like a bat out of hell.

Chester Harrison? No, Mr. Yardley.

Madam.

- The police have arrived. - Who the hell called the cops?

Get some good shots of his face.

I want everybody to recognize him.

- You got a question? - No.

I'm just surprised you got here in such a hurry.

- What's your name? - Grady Fletcher.

- One of the family? - No, I'm an accountant.

Stick around and stay out of the way.

Fletcher!

My mother and I wanna see the books as soon as possible.

- Call the attorneys. - Look,

For one thing, I don't know your attorneys. And another,

don't you think you're kinda rushing it a little?

We need strong people to keep things in line.

You show us something in the next few days

and you've got a future with my organization.

Your organization?

Me and my mother.

I chatted with some of the servants. Vanessa's right,

this family lives in dark shadows.

Rachel's first husband, that's Antonio's father...

He was a fortune hunter. He married her for her money.

Bundy sent some of his associates to visit,

and two weeks later,

his body was found floating in the East river.

Nice family.

And Vanessa's father didn't fare much better.

He committed suicide after Bundy refused

to help him out of a financial predicament.

No wonder she drank.

You know, Grady, what really concerns me

is Chester Harrison's sudden departure

right after Mr. Bundy was shot.

No, I don't think Mr. Harrison would shoot anyone.

Well, I wish I could be sure of that.

Last night, he was on the verge of losing everything.

I told him not to quit, you know,

to fight for his company no matter what.

Well, that's the part that frightens me;

the "no matter what" part.

No, no. He couldn't have.

I mean, he wouldn't.

But if he didn't, why did he drive off like that?

Well, that's something I've been wondering about

all morning.

Excuse me.

I'm sorry.

Could I talk to you for a minute, Grady?

Alone, please.

Well-- - I'm just leaving.

You know, it might not hurt

to go along with Antonio's request,

Grady, about the books.

- You might learn something. - Right.

I'm telling you. Nobody saw it, Lieutenant.

He was shot in one of the blind spots.

Some surveillance system.

Hey, pal, you probably drove right by Harrison

as he was getting away.

We got an APB out on him. He won't get far.

- Hey! - Are you talking to me?

No, no, I'm conversing with the man in the moon.

- Yeah, you, lady. - Well, I just wanted to--

I don't care what you wanted.

No civilians clumping around, messin' up with the evidence.

- Harrison. - Hold it.

- Are you Chester Harrison? - That's right.

We've been looking for you.

Yes, I just heard. My car broke down about a mile--

Yeah, that's really too bad for you.

- Now, look-- - Sir, not another word.

Not until we've read you your rights.

- In here, please. - Hey, pal.

If you guys don't nail him, I will personally.

Don't be so quick to judge, Mr. Yardley.

There's nothing to tie Mr. Harrison to the murder

except the timing of his abrupt departure from the house.

You think so? Let me tell you something.

Me and Harrison had a little talk the other night.

I suggested he wise up and cooperate

before he lost everything.

It was a very constructive meeting.

You mean threatening.

Yeah, you could've taken it that way.

Harrison was scared.

But just before I leave, he says to me,

"You know, someday someone's going to have the nerve

to put a stop to that man."

I just never figured it'd be him.

But surely you don't seriously believe

that a man like Chester Harrison--

A shot in the back? Yeah, I believe it.

The boss and me went back a lot of years, lady,

so understand one thing real good.

Your pal Harrison? He's a dead man.

Because if the cops don't get him, I will.

What is it, Grady?

Well, Millicent wanted to know about the Bundy estate.

You know, who gets what and when.

Aunt Jess, I'm a bookkeeper, not a lawyer.

Anyway, why should she care? Well, why don't you ask her?

I did. She just smiled.

Look, earlier, I was going by the library,

and I saw the door was open,

and I saw something, it might be a clue.

It's over here.

You see?

And look, there's more under the chair.

You know, maybe the killer escaped through the window

after knocking over the candy.

That's a good thought, Grady, but not a clue.

I saw Vanessa accidentally knock the candy onto the floor

just before the shot was fired.

No, the killer was not an outsider,

but someone staying in the house.

Jessica, you can't seriously believe

that I murdered that man?

Well, I don't want to believe it, Chester,

but the police have a very strong circumstantial case.

You were in the house,

and heaven knows you had the motivation.

- And you ran away. - I drove away.

Jessica, I did not kill him.

Well, then what did happen?

And why did you leave so suddenly?

To take your advice.

I was driving to the city to see my lawyers.

Yeah, but you must have heard the shot.

I guess I was outside by then.

Lord, I feel like a character

right out of Dostoyevsky.

Well, it's a little early

to be wallowing around in Russian angst.

Look.

I've got a couple of things that I'm gonna check out.

This is the room that Chester was staying in.

Whoa.

But at the time of the shooting,

he says he was outside trying to get his car started.

That's what he says.

All right, then.

Now, there are no surveillance cameras.

- But... - But what?

But there is also no sight line to Bundy's bedroom.

Now, if Bundy left his bedroom to come down to breakfast,

there's no possible way he could have been seen

from this doorway.

He was shot in the back. No powder burns, right?

Well, that's what I heard the doctor tell Lieutenant Greco.

Aunt Jess.

It's another door.

It opens onto the corridor.

Gee, I'm really sorry, aunt Jess.

From this angle, there's no way Harrison could have missed.

Thank you very much, Mrs. Fletcher.

You've really been very helpful.

Your theory practically nails down

the case against Harrison.

Well, I'm sorry, but proving Chester guilty

is not part of my theory.

I mean, anybody could have gotten into that corridor

or into that bathroom and fired that shot.

Only somebody without an alibi.

Like I say, Chester Harrison.

- Are you forgetting Mr. Jensen? - Who?

The, the manservant.

The what? Who?

- The butler. - The butler.

Are you telling me the butler did it?

- Well, I'm only suggesting-- - The butler.

With all due respect, Mrs. Fletcher,

this is not another one of your cockeyed whodunits.

Look, he was behaving very strangely

a couple of minutes before the shot was heard.

I'll book him.

Strange behavior in the first degree.

Yeah, I like it.

Lieutenant?

We found this in the laundry bin in the basement.

There's a chute in the corridor

near the top of the rear staircase.

Yeah, Harrison must have dropped it down the chute

before he went out.

Ooh, I'm sorry. The butler.

Maybe we'll find his fingerprints on the grip,

really lock down the case against him.

Yeah, well, I doubt that you'll find

anyone's prints on it, Lieutenant.

The killer disposed of the gun to avoid being found with it.

He wouldn't have been dumb enough

to leave his prints behind.

Chester!

Save it.

We're bringing him in for questioning anyway.

Yeah. Yeah, I understand.

You're sure about that?

Listen, Ogilvy, don't start yakkin' to me about proprieties.

You're workin' for us now. You understand?

You wanna keep makin' that fancy retainer, you do what we tell you.

There's a few buck in it for me and your two kids.

But the lawyers say it's yours Rachel.

The whole enchilada.

You know, Grady, if I don't put together something soon,

Chester is going to land in jail, permanently

What I cannot understand

is Lieutenant Greco's reaction

to my suspicions about Mr. Jensen.

It's almost as if--

Well, Mr. Jensen,

I see that photography is one of your many talents.

Mrs. Fletcher, this is not exactly what it seems.

Well, then you won't mind telling Lieutenant Greco

exactly what it is.

No, that won't be necessary.

My name's Everett Jensen,

special agent with the Internal Revenue Service.

I called the police this morning and informed Lieutenant Greco

of my identity shortly after he arrived.

Mr. Jensen,

I-I-I've only been working for Mr. Bundy

for a few months, and--and the fact is--

Relax, Mr. Fletcher. We know you're clean.

And so's the magazine.

One of his few enterprises that is.

Mr. Jensen, I realize that Christopher Bundy

was a ruthless businessman,

but you're talking about him as if he was a criminal.

I don't suppose you've ever heard the name

Carmine Bundiatti?

No. I'm sorry.

He was a third-rate hoodlum,

a soldier for one of the New Jersey families.

He never amounted to much,

but his offspring were made of sterner stuff,

and in particular, one grandson.

- Christopher Bundy. - That's right.

A new breed of gangster who uses computers instead of guns

to build their financial empires.

They skirt the law, but sometimes they slip,

like Bundy did.

He tried to take too much, too publicly.

He was not a popular fellow with us or anyone else.

Meaning he might have run afoul

of some of his grandfather's business associates.

You don't really buy that possibility,

do you, aunt Jess, about a hit man?

I certainly don't.

Problem is, everyone here's got an alibi.

Yeah, so it seems. Grady, do me a favor.

Drive to the police station and find out

if there's anything that we can do for Chester.

- Sure. - And keep your ears open.

If the police have found out anything new,

I want to know about it.

Right.

No ice. Where the hell is Jensen?

The last time I saw him, he was tied up.

Mrs. Fletcher, you should be in Poughkeepsie by now.

Yes, and Chester Harrison

should be on his way to New York,

which he's not because someone adroitly managed

to pin a murder charge on him.

Well, it's not me, as much as I'd love to take credit.

Millie and I were playing tennis

when uncle Chris bit the big one.

Yes, you told me before.

- Yes, we heard the shot. - From the tennis court?

Mrs. Fletcher, do us and yourself a big favor.

Poughkeepsie's that way. Right at the gate.

- Left onto the interstate. - Tony!

Believe me, nothing would give me greater pleasure,

but I am not in the habit

of running out on people in trouble.

Miss Moore, you were asking my nephew

about the details of Mr. Bundy's will.

Would you tell me why?

I was just curious, that's all.

About an inheritance? Well, surely not for yourself.

I'm also not certain about the reliability of an alibi

that you two might provide for each other.

But I saw them playing, Mrs. Fletcher,

when I was out walking.

Yes, of course.

That was just before the shot was fired

and right after you entered the library?

You seem to have a fixation

about my presence in the library.

Yes, I do, Vanessa, when you lie about it.

The security guard and I both saw you on the monitor.

You were searching through books.

You even spilled a dish of candy.

You, sis? You killed uncle Chris?

Come on, Tony. Of course I didn't.

I was looking for a letter...

F-from someone who used to be very close.

Someone, dear uncle Christopher, chased out of my life.

I was reading in the library a couple of days ago.

I heard him coming, so I hid it in one of the volumes,

then I just forgot which one.

Well, why didn't you just tell us that?

My mother is very much like my uncle.

She wants to plan my future for me.

So you lied about the library,

and you lied about your brother playing tennis with Miss Moore.

We were playing tennis, Mrs. Fletcher.

Less than 24 hours after your feet

were so covered with blisters, you could hardly walk?

Mrs. Fletcher.

The lady wants to see you in the library.

Now. Come with me.

You'll be relieved to learn, Mrs. Fletcher,

Literary Lines Monthly is no longer interested in your story.

I take it that means you'll be in charge.

Someone has to keep the flame.

I'm sorry your good luck

carried such an expensive price tag.

Why are you so concerned about my brother's death?

You didn't even know him.

And very honestly, if you had,

I doubt you'd have liked him very much.

Christopher played by a certain set of rules,

and he lost the game.

I don't intend to make the same mistake.

My children are all I've got, Mrs. Fletcher,

and I intend to see they get more out of life

than I ever did.

Antonio will be sitting at my right hand.

Vanessa will be wealthy enough and free enough of her past

to attract a man who can give her happiness.

A man of your choosing, I presume.

She won't make the same mistakes I made,

believe me.

Her father, my second husband, was weak.

He killed himself when my brother

refused to bail him out of a financial situation.

For years, my daughter and I both blamed my brother.

But eventually I came to see the flaw was my husband's,

not Christopher's.

I cannot, I will not tolerate weakness

in myself or anyone else.

As soon as your nephew returns, I want you both off my property.

That's all.

- Chester. - They let him go, aunt Jess.

Lack of evidence, they said.

I don't think I'm off the hook yet.

- Where's Rachel? - Right here, Mr. Harrison.

Cops made a mistake letting you go, Harrison.

You made even a bigger one coming back here.

I didn't kill your brother, Rachel.

My vices are many, but homicide is not one of them.

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Either way, I want you out of my house.

You haven't heard why I'm here.

I'm prepared to make you an offer you can't refuse.

And what's that?

To give you what I wouldn't give your brother:

my experience, my knowledge, my good name.

I haven't the stomach for a fight, Rachel.

I want to make a deal. Now.

Let me understand.

You're willing to stay on as figurehead

knowing I'll be giving the orders?

- That's right. - Forget it, Rachel.

- We don't need this guy. - Be quiet, Bert!

Why?

Because I have no choice.

The magazine is all I have. It's all I've ever had.

I can't give it up.

Bert, take Mr. Harrison out on the patio.

I'll join you in a minute.

I am sorry, Jessica. I need them.

I believe I asked you to leave, Mrs. Fletcher.

I still don't like it, aunt Jess.

I mean, I feel as if we're running out.

Well, it's no longer any of our business, Grady.

Dear, I better return this to the library,

or they'll get an APB out on me for "booknapping."

You pack up the car, and I'll be right back.

Okay.

- Grady. - Hi.

Didn't know you were leaving.

Yeah. By special invitation.

- I'm gonna miss you. - I think you'll get over it.

Look, I know that I've been

acting kind of funny around here lately, but--

Yeah, you could say that.

Friendly one moment, cold as ice the next.

But what do I care?

- Hey, listen, I'm really sorry. - Fine.

It's just that I don't like being mixed up in murder.

And your aunt...

Well, she caught me in a little lie.

At the time of Mr. Bundy's death,

Antonio and I weren't playing tennis.

Hey, I really don't care.

But we were together, upstairs in my room,

and I'll swear to that if I have to.

Why tell me?

Because your aunt seems to think

that I had something to do with the murder, and I didn't.

I'm really sorry about coming on to you

the way that I did. It was lousy, I know.

But I didn't want Mr. Bundy to know what was going on

between Antonio and I, and--

And I was convenient, right? And harmless.

I didn't say that.

You didn't have to. Excuse me.

Good morning, welcome to Sunday Morning Press Forum.

I'm Chet Williams,

and today I'll be interviewing Mr. Harold Lansing,

an undersecretary in the defense department.

Mr. Undersecretary--

- Grady! - Aunt Jess, what is it?

I want you to drive straight to police headquarters.

Again?

Get Lieutenant Greco and bring him back here.

- But what am I suppos-- - I can't use the phone.

- It's too dangerous. - Dangerous? Aunt Jess--

There's no time, Grady.

I think I've figured out who killed Mr. Bundy.

The problem is how to prove it.

What's all this about?

I'm really sorry to bother you with all this,

but my aunt needs to know the various areas

the surveillance cameras cover.

Well, why doesn't she just ask Pete Morgan?

what is she doing?

I think she said something about looking for a letter.

- My letter? - Yeah, yeah, that's it.

She said you were looking for a letter

in a book on Sunday morning

the very time your uncle was shot, and--

What's this about?

Surely you remember that accident, Vanessa.

Is this your idea of a joke, Mrs. Fletcher?

Not at all. I wish it were.

Wires leading from the surveillance box

to the playback machine.

That's how I could be in two places at the same time.

But surely you knew that, Vanessa,

since you did the same thing.

What are you talking about?

You must have recorded your little charade a day or two ago,

either when Mr. Morgan was off duty

or perhaps getting coffee.

Then you used the tape on Sunday morning

to mask your movements.

You set the machine up,

then waited until you saw the guard going by.

What Pete and I were looking at was your prerecorded tape.

We had no way of knowing you had ducked outside

and come up the rear staircase,

avoiding the other surveillance cameras.

You waited until Chester Harrison

went out to his car.

Then you slipped into his room.

You shot your uncle after he went by,

then left by the back stairs,

putting the gun into the laundry chute

after wiping it clean.

At this point, you knew no one

would be watching the security monitors.

You returned to the library,

where you unclipped the wires and hid them.

Then you rewound the tape

and recorded over the cover-up scene.

On the way to join the others,

you knocked over the candy again

so that, if anybody checked,

everything would correspond to what the guard had seen.

That is a clever little story, Mrs. Fletcher.

Now prove it.

Vanessa?

Mr. Morgan, what exactly did you see that morning?

What you saw.

I mean, you were right there with me.

There was something odd about that scene, Mr. Morgan,

and I don't blame you for not noticing.

It didn't occur to me until just a short time ago.

When Mr. Bundy and I met in the library

on Saturday afternoon, he adjusted the drapes

because the sun was hitting me right in the eyes.

What was the time of death, Lieutenant Greco?

Ten in the morning.

Yes. Ten in the morning.

Vanessa was looking through books.

We could see her quite clearly in the sunlight

streaming into the room in the morning,

even though the windows of the library face west,

and sun streams through them in the afternoon.

Isn't that what we also saw, Mr. Morgan?

Yes. I remember now.

You're right.

I'll swear to that in court, Vanessa,

and I'm sure that will Mr. Morgan will too.

You never knew my father, Mrs. Fletcher.

He was a very gentle man. He wasn't weak.

But he was thoughtful,

and he was considerate,

and he was caring.

They never understood him.

He always had time for me, even when nobody else did.

Time to listen

and time to share.

And then that beautiful soul was destroyed

by someone who only taught me to be afraid.

Vanessa.

Don't look at me that way, mother!

I only did what you never had the courage to do yourself.

I'm only sorry it took me so long.

Come on.

Jessica!

How can I thank you?

You saved this old fool from a terrible ordeal.

Chester, you're neither old nor a fool.

And it's good to know you'll be back in business as usual.

Absolutely.

We'd offer you a ride, Mr. Harrison,

but, actually, we're headed towards Poughkeepsie, and--

That's all right. I have someone giving me a ride.

Hey, Chester! Come on.

I've got reservations at Vincenzo's at eight,

and I'm starved.

One little supper, doesn't mean a thing.

Aw, who cares? She wasn't my type, anyway.

Grady, your love life is a real mess.

My people, Mrs. Fletcher.

We decided to shut the Bundy operation down

before the lady is able to manipulate the books.

Upstairs.

And another thing, Grady.

I've been, meaning to talk to you

about your, choice of employers.