All language subtitles for Murder.She.Wrote.S07E01.Trials.&.Tribulations.WEBRip.x264-ION10

That's a pretty lousy
suggestion, Mrs. Fletcher.

Murder is lousy too, Mr. Fields.

[siren wailing]

[Jessica] Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

are you saying that anyone can
file a lawsuit willy-nilly,

against anyone they please
anytime they please?

Well, it's not quite that simple.

First you have to hire a lawyer.

Stop moving your head.

You have a pinched vertebrae.

30 years he gave that company.

My father is dead because of you.

Step forward, number two.

Me?

Yes, you, number 2,

step forward.

[cheerful orchestral music]

You drive careful, now.

Yeah, right.

[alarm wails]

Hold it!

[gunshots]

[police siren, tires screeching]

[tires screeching]

What the hell are you doing?

Don't you hear the siren?
They know you're out.

We've got to get out of here,
ditch this van.

Dummy!

[tires screeching]

[siren wailing]

This is the state police.

Pull over to the side of the road.

Driver of the van, pull over now!

I can't outrun that chopper, Eddie.

Keep going, or I'll blow your head off.

Eddie!

[jammed car horn blaring]

Hurry, get the paramedics!

Tell them to move it!

More tea, Mrs. Fletcher?

Hmm? Oh, no, no.

No more. Thank you, Fred.

Ma'am, there's a very nice lady

standing over there,
carrying one of your books,

and she says she'd like your autograph.

Oh, I'd be delighted.

This is very nice of you.

She reminds me of my grandmother.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.

This is a thrill, really.

Why, thank you.

I've read every one of your books.

Love them all.

And what is your name?

Hester.

"To Hester" would be fine.

Oh, my mother's gonna be so excited.

She's a big fan of yours, too.

Do you still live in Cabot Cove, Maine?

And I wouldn't dream of moving.

698, Candlewood Lane.

Yes. How did you know?

It's typed...

right on the summons.

Summons?

Thanks again, Jessica.

I knew you were gonna be
just as nice as your picture.

What did I tell you?

Isn't she the sweetest thing?

Fred, get yourself a new grandmother.

My, my, my.

Dear.

[scoffs]

Well, surely they can't be serious.

Oh, they're serious
all right, Mrs. Fletcher.

Whether they have a case or not

is an entirely different matter.

Look, Mr. Dandridge,

I'm a reasonably intelligent woman.

But when it comes to a legal summons,

or the fine print in
my insurance policy with you,

I'm a little bit confused
as to where I stand.

Let me explain it to you.

Six years ago,
you assisted the authorities

in a murder investigation
which led to the arrest

and conviction of a man
named Edward Stone.

Yes, I remember the case.

Well, Stone died

in an attempted prison break last month.

And now his daughter, Geraldine Stone,

has filed a $50 million

wrongful death suit against you.

She claims that your participation

in the investigation was instrumental

in her father's conviction,

and that his death was the result

of wrongful imprisonment

based upon erroneous evidence.

But that is ridiculous.

Well, of course it is.

We.. we have 30 days in which to answer.

Answer what?

The complaint.

But there is nothing to answer.

This is pure fabrication.

Well, of course it is.

But we... we still have to answer it.

Wait a minute. Are you saying

that anyone can file a lawsuit willy-nilly

against anyone they please,
anytime they please?

Well, it's not quite that simple.

First, you have to hire a lawyer.

Though I would suspect
that this one is working

on a contingency basis.

Charlie Cosmo,
gives even shysters a bad name.

Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Dandridge,

but I refuse to dignify this travesty.

I'll have to leave it in your hands.

I'm sure this will
never even come to trial.

Charlie would rather
settle than fight any day.

So if his figure's low enough,
I'll just give him something

to end the nuisance.

Settle? Oh, no.

That would be admitting that he was right.

No, absolutely not.

Mrs. Fletcher, I know how you feel.

I don't think you do.

Well, ultimately this comes
down to dollars and cents.

I mean, none of us wants the expense

or the inconvenience
of a long, drawn-out trial.

So suppose that I talk to Charlie?

See where he's coming from.

You do that, Mr. Dandridge.

Meantime, I'm going to have a chat

with Miss Geraldine Stone

and find out where she's coming from.

Mrs. Fletcher, I don't think
that's such a good idea.

On the contrary, Mr. Dandridge,

I think it's the best idea
I've had all morning.

Come on, Mr. Kleinschmidt,

the appropriation was killed in committee

on your recommendation, and you know it.

Sir, nobody is trying to nail anyone.

I just want a straight answer.

If I'd wanted to talk to your PR guy,

I would've called your PR guy.

All right, all right, fine.

Excuse me for bothering you.

Earth Now will be on
the stands next Tuesday.

You can read all about it.

Pardon me. Miss Stone?

Yeah, that's me.

I'm Jessica Fletcher.

Look, Mrs. Fletcher,
I'm very busy right now.

Yes, I can see that.

Miss Stone, I'd like to know why on earth

you're filing this lawsuit against me.

I think it speaks for itself.

No, I'm afraid it doesn't.

I'm sorry that your father is dead.

But he was sent to prison
for killing a man.

On trumped-up evidence created by you.

No, that's not true.

Look, Mrs. Fletcher,

I don't think we should be
talking about this.

This is something
for the courts to decide.

Yes, just as they decided

to send your father to prison, not me.

Mrs. Fletcher, I'm very,
very busy right now, okay?

So would you please leave,
or I'm going to have to

ask somebody to make you leave.

No, that won't be necessary.

[phone rings]

-Stone!
-Gerry...

Oh, hi.

Did I catch you at a bad time?

Yeah, very.

Justin, she was here.

Who?

Mrs. Fletcher.

I didn't know what to say to her.

You don't have to say anything, darling.

That's what you pay your lawyer for.

I just feel so sleazy.

For what? It's not gonna
cost her anything.

Just her insurance company.

Yeah, I know, but it's... it's just that

Gerry, this is no time to lose your nerve.

Believe me, the night we open
Justin's restaurant,

you'll forget all about this.

Got to run.

Here comes the grand dragon.

See you tonight,

I'll bring home some cheesecake.

I trust, Mr. Fields, that your duties here

are not interfering
with your personal life.

Sorry, Mr. Von Steuben.

A personal emergency.

Involving your banker?

Sir?

I am a tolerant man, Fields,
even forbearing.

But I am not amused by pastry chefs

with delusions of grandeur.

Sorry, Sir, you've lost me.

Yes, just the thing I hope to avoid.

I am not amused by
your heretofore vain attempts

to raise the capital
to fund your own restaurant.

Sir, I assure you, I--

And I assure you,
I will enforce your contract

with every means available to me.

I do not relish seeing my clientele

spirited away by some ambitious employee.

You are a competent chef, Fields,

but a hopeless businessman,

as your two previous
bankruptcies attest to.

Do I smell something burning?

Stay very calm, Patricia.

And answer my questions slowly
and quietly.

And if you can manage
a little catch in your throat

every once in a while, that's great.

Only don't overdo it,
and stop moving your head.

You have a pinched vertebrae, remember?

Excuse me a minute.

Well, what do you say?

How are you doing, Ray?

Charlie...

isn't that a little bit much,
even for you?

Nurse, Orderly, wheelchair?

Yeah, I tried to get a doctor, too,

only all of my really good guys
are out of town, testifying.

So, what brings you here,
as if I couldn't guess?

Charlie, that complaint
against J.B. Fletcher is

a sack of chicken feathers,
and you know it.

Oh, I don't think
a jury'll see it that way.

Have you met the lady?

I hear she's a real busybody.

We're not gonna settle.

Who's talking about settling?

We're talking $50 million here.

So it takes three or four years
to get on the docket?

So what?

I mean, for numbers like that,
I've got the Patience of job.

So do we.

I'm on my way right now to see

the detective on the case,
Lieutenant Lewis.

Well, you've got yourself a long trip.

Lewis died, last year, heart attack.

Who you really ought to talk to
is the state's chief witness,

Angelo Vitello,

only I'm not going to let you do that.

Not just yet.

What are you talking about?

It's all here, Ray.

I took his deposition
last week, at his home.

You and Mrs. Fletcher might
want to look that over,

and then we'll have a talk.

Hey.

Nice seeing you.

-Mrs. Fletcher?
-Yes.

Hi. Sergeant Paulsen.

You probably don't remember me.

I worked with Lieutenant Lewis

on the Eddie Stone murder case.

Oh, yes, yes, of course.

Nice to see you again.

I don't blame you for not remembering me.

I was a size 36 back then.

That was right before my wife left me,

and I was passed over for sergeant

three straight times.

Kind of, you know...

went to my waistline a little bit.

Yes, yes.

Yes, of course. Well...

I guess they told you
about the lieutenant dying

last year.

Yes, I was so sorry to hear that.

Me, too, he was my Rabbi.

You know, guardian angel.

I kind of miss the guy.

Well, anyway, what can I do for you?

Well, I'm not really quite sure.

You see, I wanted to review
the case with him.

The fact is, sergeant, I am being sued.

No kidding? What for?

Well, Edward Stone's daughter claims

that my involvement in the case

led to her father's conviction.

Well, she sure has got that right.

We couldn't have done it without you.

Yeah, well, that isn't
exactly what I wanted to hear.

Believe me, Lewis didn't have a clue

until you put him on the right track.

Oh, gummy bear?

Oh, no, no, thank you.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, Mr. Dandridge.

We have to talk... now.

Sergeant, this is my
attorney, Raymond Dandridge.

-Hi. How do you do?
-Sergeant Paulsen.

Sergeant, would you excuse us
for just a moment?

Oh, sure.

It's time for my lunch break, anyway.

If you need to see those files,

just say the word, okay?

Thank you.

Mrs. Fletcher, we have trouble.

Serious trouble.

Do you remember a man
named Angelo Vitello?

Oh, yes, of course.

He was the cab driver
who picked up Edward Stone

late that night, just a block
from the murder scene.

A pretty important witness, would you say?

Oh, yes.

He was the key to the case.

I was afraid you were going to say

something like that.

You see, Mr. Vitello has suddenly had

a change of heart.

He says the only reason

that he identified Edward Stone

was because you talked him into it.

And he says...

that you paid him $5,000
to lie under oath.

[indistinct chatter]

Frankly, Mrs. Fletcher,
this is a terrible idea.

So you keep telling me.

Would you please wait?

Now, I want you to know I don't
believe the man's accusation,

not for a moment. Well, thank you.

But his statement is very specific.

Unless he's an out and out liar--

-He is.
-But you also said

he was a very charming gentleman;

open, cheerful, very likeable.

Yes, but that's what troubles me.

I mean, how could he make this accusation

when he knows that it's false?

Rosa! Carlos!

[woman shouting in Spanish]

This is it.

[children speaking Spanish]

Uh, yes?

Mrs. Vitello?

I'm Mrs. Vitello.

My name is Jessica Fletcher.

This is Mr. Dandridge.

I've come to see your husband.

Well, he's... he's busy right now.

Please, I've come such a long way.

Would you at least tell him that I'm here?

It's very important.

Wait here.

We have another sentence.

Place that comma.

[TV audience applauding]

Place the comma after
lobsters and before don't.

.- I'm sorry, but Angelo
can't see you right now.

He's... he's taking a nap.

Oh.

Look, he hasn't been feeling well lately.

Next time, call first, okay?

I'm sorry.

Excuse me.

Phrases that are often
sentence interrupters!

[buzzer]

Italian ice!

Italian ice!

Well, she was telling the truth

about one thing, anyway.

He's not well.

He's at least 40 pounds lighter

than when I remember him.

And they've got him on oxygen.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Jessica, please.

I know how upset you are,
but will you leave this to me?

I'm sorry, but I can't do that.

Look, would you mind giving me a lift

to the police station?

I'd like to go through the files.

Here you go, Mrs. Fletcher.

-Oh, thank you.
-Mm-hmm.

Mrs. Fletcher.

I don't know if you remember me.

Oh, but of course I do, Miss Stephenson.

How nice to see you again.

Thank you.

You know, technically,

you really shouldn't be
reviewing those files.

Not without a court order.

Well, on the other hand,

I shouldn't be accused of
suborning perjury, either.

I presume you've talked
to Sergeant Paulsen?

I asked him to call you.

And for the record,

I don't believe Vitello's accusation.

Well, thank you.

On the other hand,
it's a pretty serious charge.

I can't just ignore it.

It's not just a civil suit now.

It involves a possible criminal offense.

Oh, how well I know that.

You know, when I prosecuted Edward Stone,

my case, quite frankly,
rested on two things:

the circumstantial evidence,

and Angelo Vitello's
uncorroborated testimony.

So if it turns out that he was lying,

for whatever reason,

well, my entire case,
based on your theory,

just won't hold up.

He was not lying.

Not then.

Well, I don't think so either.

But I'm in kind of
a difficult position, you see.

I've been asked to run for
district attorney next year.

Oh, I see.

Well, something like this could really

destroy my chances for the nomination.

I just hope you decide

not to settle this civil suit
out of court.

Well, my insurance company seems

more than willing to negotiate,

but I wouldn't think of doing so.

Good for you.

You know, it's one thing
to lie in a sworn deposition.

It's quite another to make it
stick in an open courtroom

under cross-examination.

Oh, you didn't let me down six years ago,

you're not gonna let me down now.

We'll be in touch.

You bet.

[sighs]

Taxi!

-Mrs. Fletcher?
-Yes.

Just the lady I came to see.

Charles Emmett Cosmo, attorney at law.

Oh, yes. Mr. Cosmo.

I represent--

Yes, I know who you represent.

I'm really surprised to see

that you actually came here
to this police station.

Excuse me, lady, do you want
the cab or don't you?

Oh, yes.

Why don't you just get on with it?

Wait, please.

I gave you a lot more credit,
Mrs. Fletcher.

A lady of your experience
and intelligence...

especially around a courtroom.

Excuse me?

You see, my client and I,

we're talking civil action.

Just a quiet little suit

with a quiet little settlement.

Something that could be
handled in an hour or so,

over a cup of coffee.

And now, you see,
you've brought the law into it.

Mr. Cosmo, hard as it may be

for you to grasp the concept,

I was not involved
in subornation of perjury.

Lady!

-Go.
-Stay!

Go, stay.

Tourists.

Mrs. Fletcher, don't misunderstand me.

I just don't want to see you
in any more trouble.

Now I've lost my cab.

So what are you telling me?

That you're gonna let this thing drag on

-for three or four years?
-If that's what it takes.

And then what?

You're going to get crucified.

I seriously doubt it. Taxi!

Why, because you're innocent?

Lady, that doesn't have
a lot to do with it.

Don't you understand that judges and DA's

will bend over backwards
to avoid the impression

that they're kowtowing to a celebrity?

The trial gets twice as tough.

In the mornings, at the courthouse,

there'll be a bunch of lawyers
swarming all over you,

and at night the phone
will ring off the hook.

Do you seriously want
to put yourself through that?

Mr. Cosmo, I am still
naive enough to believe

that in a court of law,
truth will prevail.

Go through it?

I look forward to it.

Excuse me.

This is just great.

Give the maitre d' your name
and off he goes.

"One moment" he says.

It's been longer than a moment, Jessica.

Have you recently given up
smoking or something?

-You're very edgy.
-I'm not edgy.

I just hate paying $100 a head for dinner

and then have to suffer
rudeness in the bargain.

Maybe now you can tell me
what this good reason is

you had for coming here?
It surely can't be the food.

Well, I've heard interesting
things about their pastry.

Mrs. Fletcher.

How delightful to meet you at last.

Elliot Von Steuben, a devoted admirer.

Why, thank you.

My friend, Raymond Dandridge.

-Mr. Dandridge.
-Oh, please.

I've reserved
a very special table for you.

I've also ordered up
an excellent '78 cabernet

which I'm sure you will enjoy.

Oh, that sounds delicious.

And if there is something
special you would like,

anything at all, just ask your waiter.

No request will be too difficult.

I just don't know
what to say, Mr. Von Steuben.

Say? You need say nothing.

What you have written speaks volumes.

I confess to say,
I am a shameless aficionado

of the well-crafted murder mystery.

Christie, James, Fletcher.

My library is small, but select.

Bon appetit, and if there is
anything you need,

I am at your service.

Thank you.

It's incredible.

The man oozes snake oil.

We'll wait a few minutes before ordering.

Certainly.

Jessica, what's all this about pastry?

I did some research on Geraldine Stone.

She's involved with a pastry chef here

named Justin Fields.

He's been trying for months,
unsuccessfully,

to raise enough money
to open his own place.

Well, this is a high-risk business.

Oh, yes.

And Mr. Fields has
two bankruptcies to prove it.

What's your point?

This sudden lawsuit,

totally without merit,

popping up at a time
that her boyfriend needs

to raise about a half a million dollars.

You tell me.

Well, she's suing you for 50 million.

Which she couldn't possibly
hope to collect

for three or four years.

Now, the question is,

what might you and the insurance company

settle for now

to avoid the nuisance of the lawsuit.

I see.

That would explain a lot of things.

Mm-hmm.

Raymond, it's Geraldine Stone.

Something's making her unhappy.

And I think the pastry chef's
about to hear about it.

Maybe your idea of confronting her

wasn't such a bad one, after all.

Excuse me, Mrs. Fletcher. A call for you.

Oh, thank you.

Hello.

Mrs. Fletcher, it's Sergeant Paulsen.

Your hotel told me where I could find you.

Oh, what's the matter, sergeant?

The paramedics just responded to a 911

in Angelo Vitello's apartment.

They're taking him to Bellevue now.

Oh, what happened?

I don't know, but if you want
to talk to the guy,

you better hurry up. [woman sobbing]

I don't think he's gonna
make it till morning.

Sergeant, how is he?

Breathing, but that's about it.

They've got him in ICU.

Did you get a chance to talk to him?

He hasn't regained consciousness.

Well, what happened?

The Doc thinks he went into
a diabetic coma.

They're running some tests.

Now, his wife's in the waiting room.

She's holding up pretty good.

Ray, would you excuse me?

I'll see if I can find the doctor.

There, there, Mrs. Vitello.

I'll say a prayer for him
at tonight's mass.

Excuse me. Mrs. Vitello?

Oh.

Mrs. Fletcher.

I'm so very sorry.

I hope that your husband's
going to be all right.

Thank you.

Look, I want to apologize

for my rudeness this afternoon.

Oh, please.

I get very protective.

On his bad days, Angelo, he tires easily

and company upsets him.

You know, he hasn't been out of the house

for the past eight weeks.

Well, how long has he been sick?

A couple of years.

Oh, the diabetes has always been with him,

but then, two years ago christmas

they found the cancer in his lung.

Well, they took out what they could,

but we knew it wasn't enough.

Look, I know you want to talk to him.

About that murder case.

Oh, listen, the important thing

is to get him through this crisis.

He's not getting through it.

Not this time.

I've been with him all day, all night,

watching him die, hour after hour.

All except tonight.

Tonight, I go down the street
to a neighbor's

to watch her kids for a couple of hours,

so she and her husband can go out.

It's their anniversary.

And when I come home...

you know, after they laid him off,

when he was too sick to work, he gave up.

I could see it in his face.

30 years he gave that company.

Never late, never an excuse.

Just like that, they fired him.

No benefits, no nothing.

Even his life insurance.

It was just like
he'd never ever been there.

Jessica?

Excuse me.

Jessica, Vitello didn't make it.

He died about five minutes ago.

I talked to one of the nurses.

Oh, that poor woman.

I mean, she said she was resigned to it,

but I don't know.

This is gonna hit her hard.

Real hard, Mrs. Fletcher.

We got a real sicko running around.

Explain that, sergeant.

Vitello's back door.

Somebody punched in the glass pane

next to the door handle.

An intruder?

That's just for openers.

The lab just double-checked
their blood test.

Came out the same way both times.

Vitello's bloodstream
was loaded with sugar.

And we found a syringe
tossed away in the backyard.

It still had traces on it.

Traces of what?

Pure dextrose.

Somebody broke in,

injected the guy to bring on his attack.

What we're talking here is murder.

I'm sorry, Sir, but Mr. Cosmo
is in with a client.

Miss, I phoned him early this morning

and told him I would be here at 10:00.

Sir, I'm sorry but he left
specific instructions

not to be disturbed.

Don't worry about a thing, Miss Stone,

Mr. Vitello's death
doesn't change anything.

I intend to pursue this lawsuit.

Good.

'Cause I'm more determined than ever

to see it through.

Thanks, Mr. Cosmo.

I'll be in touch.

Ray, sorry to keep you waiting.

Tell me something, Charlie.

Is your client theatrically trained

or was that performance
last-minute coaching?

Come on, you know me better than that.

Absolutely.

Face it, Ray.

It doesn't matter

whether Angelo Vitello's dead

or he's alive.

I've got your client dead-bang.

His deposition was sworn and notarized.

No jury is gonna buy a piece of paper.

From a dying man,
anxious to cleanse his soul?

Come on, Ray.

Let's you and I stop screwing around

and settle on a figure.

No deal.

A few years down the road,

this is gonna cost you guys
a lot of zeroes.

And your boss isn't gonna be too happy

when he finds out
that you could've settled today

for a box of cracker jacks.

What are cracker jacks
going for these days?

A little less than a million.

Not even for a dollar.

Mrs. Fletcher says it's a lie,
and I believe her.

Yeah? And when did you
get to be so righteous?

Maybe since somebody
murdered Angelo Vitello

to make sure he never testified.

Well, it wasn't my client.

Did I mention names?
I'm just telling you, Charlie.

There's a point at which
even I won't do business.

And you have a nice day.

Ray, when it comes to people with a motive

to keep Angelo Vitello
off the witness stand,

you know who's numero uno,
don't you, your client.

Oh, hey, that's a stretch
even for you, Charlie.

Maybe so, but I happen to know

that the police have a witness
who saw a woman

leave the Vitello Brownstone around 7:30.

And judging by the description,

it could easily be Mrs. Fletcher.

Sergeant?

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.

They told me at the station you'd be here.

Where's Mrs. Vitello?

She's at the Church, making arrangements.

Did you find anything?

Aside from the broken pane
in the kitchen door, not much.

I understand that a woman was seen

leaving the building last night
around 7:30 or so.

Who told you that?

Oh, Mr. Dandridge.

And he heard it from Mr. Cosmo.

Oh, I wonder where he got that,

from the bulletin board at headquarters?

Incidentally, for the record,

I was in my room at the hotel

between 7:00 and 8:00 last night,

changing for dinner.

Then I took a cab to the restaurant,

where I met Mr. Dandridge.

Did I ask?

Well, not yet.

They have quite a formidable
security system here.

Too bad it wasn't operating last night.

Whenever Mrs. Vitello would
leave the apartment,

her husband would never use
the slide bolts.

In case, you know,
he passed out or something,

she would be able to get back in.

So anyone with a credit card

could've opened the door latch.

Or the victim could have let someone in.

That, too.

Mrs. Vitello left at 6:15
and came back around 8:30.

She found her husband
comatose on the floor,

so she called 911.

The ambulance came within ten minutes

and rushed him to the hospital.

Well, then the woman seen
leaving the building--

Was not Mrs. Vitello.

She was with the neighbor's
children the entire time.

Now, the other woman was
of indeterminate middle age,

blonde hair under a hat, and dark glasses.

And she left from the front
of the building.

Dark glasses at night?

It sounds as if she didn't want
to be recognized.

My thoughts exactly.

Sergeant, excuse me,

you mentioned that a syringe was found

in the rear yard.

Yes, about ten yards
from the kitchen door.

Oh, but doesn't that seem rather odd?

I mean, if this woman was involved

in Mr. Vitello's death
and left by the front door,

why was the syringe found
at the back door?

I mean, it seems to me

that the killer must have
dropped or tossed

the syringe away, as he left by the back.

Listen, Mrs. Fletcher...

I happen to think you're
a really terrific lady.

And I am absolutely sure

you had nothing to do with this.

On the other hand,

I have a captain
who really doesn't know you

quite as well as I do.

And he made a suggestion that...

you know, it really wasn't
a suggestion, it was...

you know, being that there's a witness,

and you really don't have
a terrific alibi...

well...

let me put it to you this way.

All right, ladies.

Line up under your assigned numbers.

Face front.

Hands down at your side.

Thank you.

Well, Mrs. Torgeson?

I don't know.

It was kind of dark.

I wasn't that close.

I only really got a sideway glance,

as she was hurrying away.

All right, ladies, turn to your right.

No, the other way.

And now to your left.

How about now?

It could be. Maybe.

Maybe number two.

But I saw her moving,
you know what I mean?

Face forward, ladies.

Number two, please step forward.

Me?

Yes, you. Number two, step forward.

Now walk briskly to your left, please.

Now, just a minute, sergeant.

Briskly to your left, number two.

No, I don't think so.

But you're not sure?

I'm an old lady with bad eyes.

What do you want from me, pictures?

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher,

thanks so much for your cooperation.

I guess you're off the hook
for the time being, at least.

For the time being?

Well, the eyewitness
really turned out to be

of no use to us.

Well, with the darkness,

and the obvious disguise
the woman was wearing,

she really couldn't make a positive ID.

Oh, I'm sorry
to hear that, Miss Stephenson,

because I was going to
volunteer to go through again,

on one condition...

that you join the line-up.

Me?

Well, I suppose that would be amusing.

Oh, my goodness, it's almost 2:30,

and I haven't eaten lunch.

Would you care to join me?

I think that you and I have
a lot to talk about.

All right.

How did you know I was the one

at the Vitello apartment house last night?

Well, I didn't, for sure.

But you had as much to lose
by Mr. Vitello's testimony

as anyone.

I simply put the blonde hair
together with the disguise.

Made sense.

I didn't kill the man, Mrs. Fletcher.

I went there to talk
to him privately, that's all.

And the disguise was necessary.

I mean, how would it look
for the next district attorney

to be seen meeting with a man who claims

to have been bribed to commit perjury

in a case I won six years ago?

And did you discuss that case with him?

No, I knocked several times,
but there was no answer.

I could hear the television set,

so I knew he was there,
but he wouldn't answer.

Or couldn't.

And when was that?

Was it around 7:30?

Yeah.

Look, I know it was stupid,

but that deposition of his
was just a total lie.

It had to be.

And I just wanted
to get to the bottom of it,

one-on-one.

Now, you say you heard the television.

Did you hear him moving around
in the apartment?

No.

Welcome, Mrs. Fletcher.

Welcome again.

Thank you. This is--

Miss Anne Stephenson.

Miss Stephenson, delighted.

I've seen you often on the late news.

The camera does not do you justice.

Won't you join us?

Oh, I would be delighted, however...

Actually, Miss Stephenson
would like to ask you

a couple of questions about last night.

But of course.

How may I help you?

Well, I...

Actually, Miss Stephenson
would like to have a chat

with your pastry chef, Justin Fields.

Ah, yes.

I can give you his home address.

You mean he's not here?

No, nor will he be.

I let him go last evening.

A most disagreeable
and undependable gentleman,

despite his considerable skill
with a baking pan.

It's excellent.

Saucy, but not impudent.

Undependable?

Last evening, he sneaked out the back door

and left the petits fours
to his assistant.

Unconscionable.

Uh, about what time was that?

Shortly before 7:00.

And when did he return?

He didn't.

Oh, but I saw Geraldine Stone
here last night.

I just assumed that she'd
come here to see him.

Oh, she did, and she was only
slightly less disappointed

than I was to find him missing.

I called him this morning

to notify him of his termination.

He found it amusing.

He said he'd worked his last shift

as a pastry chef.

Dear fellow.

I wonder what he knows that I don't.

Mrs. Fletcher, what are you doing here?

Oh, I came to see you, Miss Stone.

Your office told me that you'd taken

a couple of days' sick leave.

This must be Mr. Fields.

-How do you do?
-Hi.

I'm sorry that I missed you
at the restaurant last night.

I hear you make a wonderful cheesecake.

You didn't come here
to discuss cheesecakes,

Mrs. Fletcher.

No, I didn't.

My, this is quite a lovely place.

Or it will be,
when you get it all fixed up.

I talked to the owner this morning.

He told me that you took a lease

on the place last month.

Not that it's any of your business.

Well, I'm afraid
it's very much my business.

The lawsuit saw to that.

But actually what's far more important

is who killed that poor, sick old man

in the wheelchair?

Well, it wasn't me.

I wanted him alive,
to testify at your trial.

Did you?

I wonder.

Your lawyer seems to think

he'd have just as good a case

even with Mr. Vitello dead.

Perhaps even stronger.

After all, you can't
cross-examine a corpse.

That's a pretty lousy
suggestion, Mrs. Fletcher.

Murder's lousy, too, Mr. Fields.

And so is that absurd
accusation against me.

But I can guess why you made it.

To pressure my insurance company

into making and out-of-court settlement.

How much do you need to open
this place, a half a million?

Wait a minute, my father
is dead because of you.

The owner of this building
says you gave him

a $10,000 deposit, Mr. Fields.

Though according to the bank
check you paid him with,

the money came from
Miss Stone's savings account.

What else did you pay
from that account, Miss Stone?

What the hell are you talking about?

Suppose I told you that Sergeant Paulsen

is at the courthouse at this very moment

getting an order to open up
your financial records

for the past three months.

You're lying.

No, I just used the word "suppose."

But judging by your reaction,

I think it's a wonderful idea.

Excuse me.

Wait a minute, wait,
Mrs. Fletcher, wait...

Gerry, don't be stupid.

Look, I really didn't want to do this.

It just seemed like an easy way

to make some quick money

without anybody getting hurt.

Except the insurance company
and my reputation.

Gerry, shut up,
or you could end up in jail.

Look, maybe I don't care
anymore, all right, Justin?

You know, I never should have
let you talk me into this

in the first place.

If you want to walk, go ahead and walk.

Honey, that's exactly
what I'm going to do.

Thanks for nothing.

If you felt like shedding
a few tears, I wouldn't.

I honestly don't think that he's worth it.

That doesn't exactly come
as a hot newsflash.

All right, Mrs. Fletcher,
what do you need to know?

You paid Vitello $25,000 in cash to lie?

Well, no, I didn't pay him personally.

That was handled
by my attorney, Mr. Cosmo.

No kidding?

Charlie Cosmo bribing a witness?

This is my lucky day.

And he paid the money
directly to Mr. Vitello?

Oh, yeah, yeah, in his living room.

It was about three weeks ago.

Mr. Vitello was too sick
to leave the house.

But if he was too sick
to leave the house...

sergeant, are you thinking
what I'm thinking?

Oh, yes, ma'am.

Hey, you jerk! What's the rush?

Come on, move it!

Sergeant, this is insane.

You've got no right to do this.

Ma'am, I showed you the search warrant.
We have every right.

But there's no money hidden here.

Three weeks ago
your husband had a visitor,

Charles Cosmo, an attorney.

Yes, he came to discuss the case.

But no money changed hands.

Are you sure of that?

Were you with them every single moment?

Well, of course not.

Sergeant, we got it.

Where'd you find this?

In the ceiling in the bedroom.

I noticed one of the panels
seemed a little cockeyed,

so I pushed it out of the way.

What do you know about this?

Nothing.

This is crazy.

I never saw that before.

Are you quite sure
about that, Mrs. Vitello?

Yes, of course I'm sure.

Officer, is there a stepladder

anywhere in the house?

In the hall closet, ma'am.

It's one of those
little rickety stepladders.

I get it.

Cosmo gave your husband 25 g's

while you were out of the room.

Later, he hid the cash in the ceiling

so somebody else would find it.

It's possible, but not likely, sergeant.

His legs were very weak.

I mean, he could barely walk.

I doubt very much if he could have stood

on a short, unstable ladder

to hide the money in the ceiling.

What do you think, that I put it there?

Did you?

Sure.

That makes sense.

Your husband tells you about the money.

You can't put it in a safe deposit box

because of your husband's condition.

He could die at any moment.

And then when they opened the box,

how would you explain the cash?

No!

Someone knew the money was in the house.

Now, whether it was Cosmo,

or the woman, or her boyfriend--

No, sergeant, I don't think--

They broke in the back door,

killed him with the sugar injection,

and then started
their search for the money.

I don't think that's what happened.

Is it, Mrs. Vitello?

Why are you asking me?

You arrived home at, what, 8:30?

You phoned 911, and ten minutes later

the paramedics arrived.

But what did you do
during those ten minutes,

Mrs. Vitello?

Do?

I don't know what--

I know what most people would have done.

They would have called
a neighbor, or a friend,

perhaps even a priest.

Your husband was obviously in bad shape.

No, I think that you did something else.

I think that when you walked in,

you found the money, and you hid it.

I think you also found something else.

Mrs. Fletcher, what are you talking about?

He left you a note, didn't he, Beatrice?

Do you still have it?

"My dearest wife,

"may God forgive me what I'm about to do.

"I can't go on like this,

"lying, hurting people,

"suffering myself,
and watching you suffer.

"The doctors have taken everything.

"The medical benefits are gone.

"I have no insurance.

"All I can leave you
is what is in the envelope.

"It is not enough, but it will have to do.

"But at least you'll be spared
any further pain or hardship.

"Remember always that I loved you.

Angelo."

When I came in, he was
slumped over in the chair.

The note and the envelope
were on the table.

The syringe was on the floor, there.

As soon as I read the note,
I knew what he had done.

He lied about you, Mrs. Fletcher,

but he couldn't live with it.

That's why he did what he did.

He felt so sick and ashamed.

So frightened for his soul.

Is that why you took the note
and hid the money?

Suicide is a mortal sin.

The priest would never have held a mass.

He could never have been buried

in consecrated ground.

In almost 60 years,
he lived a Christian life.

I couldn't let it end like that.

I only wanted Angelo
to be buried the way he lived.

In a state of grace.

The nightmare is over, thank God.

Oh, yes.

I wasn't looking forward to spending

the next five years of my life

in and out of courtrooms.

Well, that's the legal system for you.

Even the innocent don't get off lightly.

Have you talked to Anne Stephenson?

What's going to happen
to Beatrice Vitello?

Probation, community service,

a stern lecture from the Judge.

At that, she's a very lucky lady.

Oh, yes.

But not so our friend Charlie Cosmo,

who's staring disbarment dead in the eye.

His peers have been waiting a long time

to get their teeth into him.

Well, thank you, Mr. Dandridge.

It's been a delight meeting you.

But I have to say,

I hope we never find ourselves
in this situation again.

Oh, we won't.

Well, I admire your optimism.

Well, it's not optimism, Jessica.

I'm resigning from the company.

Oh?

Remember when you first came to see me,

and I suggested we might settle

rather than go to trial?

Oh, yes, I remember.

Well, I realized
I was measuring everything

in terms of money.

Bottom line.

I'd lost track of what
I was supposed to be.

So I think I'm gonna
settle down somewhere,

far away from big cities
and big corporations.

Maybe a little town where
I can hang a "gone fishing"

sign on the door
when things get a little slow.

Sounds wonderful.

I know a place like that,
if you don't mind snow.

Quiet and friendly.

And the striped bass are running

12 months of the year.

I'll give you a call.

I'll be waiting.