All language subtitles for murphy_brown_s03e24_the_usual_suspects

Honey, you do me wrong, but still I'm
afraid about you.

Say you're way too wrong and I can't do
without you.

Every time you get to me, you hurt me
more and more.

But each step makes my love grow longer
than before.

I know it's about to go to rain, but how
can love go to rain?

This is so nice of you inviting us all
to lunch. Isn't it nice, guys? Hey, just

because I said anyone for Phil's doesn't
mean I'm picking up the tab. Yes, it

does. Maybe we'll get two lunches. I'll
take one home to Will.

Okay, joke's over. Joke's over. Don't
worry, Miles. I already had lunch in the

commissary, so you can just give me the
cash equivalent of a double

cheeseburger. I'm not kidding.

What's this?

Space aliens helped Allied forces win
Gulf War?

What the... The National Tattler.

I should put this girl's rag right back
under my butt where it belongs.

Oh, come on, Jim. You're not still
ticked off. It's been six years since

did that piece on you. Eight, and I will
never forgive them for it.

Jim Dial, Network News Lothario, runs
harem in hotel room.

For God's sake, I was hosting the
network's hospitality suite at a TV

convention. They said a parade of
primetime pretties had entered my hotel

all night.

When the insinuated Tom Brokaw was one
of them, I nearly had a coronary.

I'll take this trash back to the office
and recycle it.

Oh, man, where do these guys get this
stuff?

Fisherman swallowed by great white finds
his first wife.

I've got to look at this.

Oh, God, Frank, reading those things is
like slowing down to look at a car

accident. Just give it to me. We'll put
it here, nice and safe, where no one

will diminish themselves by looking at
its cheap and debasing...

They discovered a new G -spot where?

You should be ashamed. After all we do
as serious journalists is strive for

accuracy and truth.

Just look at these ridiculous stories.

Woman gives birth to her own twin
brother.

That's not possible.

Wow, there's a picture.

I bet she lives in Bolivia. These things
always happen in Bolivia.

Hey, hey, hey, hey.

Are these the quality news people I work
with now dignifying this dreck, Phil?

Would you mind taking this out of our
sight?

Oh, the tattler.

I'm sorry.

I keep telling Koppel not to bring that
garbage in here.

I don't understand how people can read
this stuff.

Hitler found running convenience store
in Claremont, California.

When you're done not reading it, Miles,
I'll take it off your hands.

I'm just reading it to prove how
ridiculous it is.

Oh, jeez. Oh, jeez. You guys are not
going to believe this.

If it's a picture of that same Lewis man
who can suck his entire face into his

mouth, I already saw it.

Nope. Listen.

TV toughie Murphy Brown had the FYI gang
diving for cover when she flew into a

violent rage moments before showtime.

According to insiders, Frank Fontana was
clowning around with gal pal Brown when

the crazed star suddenly began beating
him repeatedly about the head.

But that's not the way it was, Murphy.
You were just fooling around.

And how do they know this?

How do they know it?

These tabloids have spies on every TV
and movie set. They take one tiny grain

truth and twist it around into a story
that'll sell. Their insider could be

anyone, a disgruntled crew member, a
messenger.

A ruthless chambermaid routes through
your hotel room claiming to find one of

Jane Pauly's hairs in the bathtub.

Liars.

The once zero Fontana had to be rescued
from the assault by security guards who

pulled Bantamweight Brown off Fontana's
battered body?

This almost sounds like I was beaten up.

Oh, don't worry about it, Frank. Nobody
believes those papers.

Would you like a nice Shirley Temple?

I have some of those little paper
umbrellas. You knock it off, Phil. Just

it off. Oh, let it go, Frank. This
paper's a joke and everybody knows it.

you can do is laugh.

If you get mad, it just means they win.

That sounds like a very healthy
attitude, Murphy.

I just don't understand why it's coming
from you.

When you're on TV every week, you're
always going to be an easy target for

cheap shot artists.

Now, in the meantime, there's something
we can do.

Hold this.

Phil, marshmallows all around.

So that's my pitch for next week's show.
Now I know... what you're all thinking.

How did Murphy Brown manage to get so
deep inside the KGB?

Well, just lucky, I guess.

Okay, Miles, I was wondering. Lucky to
have the skill and finesse to take on

single most clandestine organization in
the history of the world and crack it

open like a walnut. Yes! How do I do it?

I don't know.

That's great work, Murphy. I want your
piece to leave the show, and I'll try to

steal you some extra airtime somewhere.

Why don't you steal it from me, Miles?

Her piece makes my story on weekend
survival seem real exciting.

First I'm beaten up by a woman, and now
I'm sitting around a campfire with guys

who bought their camouflage outfits at
Ralph Lauren.

Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but
I've got work to do.

Dosvidanya, comrades.

And what have we here?

The latest edition of the Tapler. And
they say people don't read anymore.

I haven't had a good laugh today.

Ah, here we go.

Maniacal Murphy nearly sets famous bar
ablaze.

Unbelievable. While whooping it up in a
DC bar, TV wild woman Murphy Brown

suddenly started a fire at her table.

An eyewitness said the volatile outburst
could only mean one thing. Brown had

been boozing.

An insider close to the fiery blonde
told the tattler...

It hurts us all to know that Murphy has
fallen off the wagon.

I don't know what's worse, that they
print this garbage or that five million

people plunked down 75 cents to buy it
every week. Murphy, I don't understand.

I thought you said we should laugh at
these articles.

But this is hitting below the belt.

And look at this picture they used of me
screaming. It was taken at a James

Brown concert in 1978.

I'm wearing gaucho pants.

Now let me get this straight.

That's not funny either, right?

I've struggled for three years to stay
sober.

I'm an example to millions of people.
And now these vultures write that I down

drink after drink.

It was club soda.

I say we hit them where it hurts, right
in the wallet. Oh, I would love to sue

them, Frank, but libel is a very
difficult thing to prove.

Besides, these guys have very deep
pockets. They can afford to drag her

the courts for years.

But that's how they get away with it.
People don't have the time or the energy

or the money to take them on. Oh, I
know, Murphy, but there's more to lose

there is to win here. For every hour you
spend in court, that's one less hour

you have to spend on your work.

I think we have to let this one go.

I guess you're right.

It's not worth getting worked up over.
I'm smarter than this. I'm bigger than

this. Besides, Smurf, people who really
matter to you would never believe this

is true.

Excuse me, Miss Brown.

Reception asked me to give you this
phone message.

Oh, thanks, Ray.

And, Ray, if I haven't said it to you
before, I just want you to know it means

lot to me to work with people like you
who really know me and believe in me.

My name's Bob.

Oh, God, I don't believe this.

Get help and get it now. Much love, Mom.

The people who matter won't believe it,
huh? My own mother. Take it easy now.

No, that's it. This means war.

Somewhere out there, there's a spy
selling me off for 30 pieces of silver.

when I find that person, and I will find
that person, they're going to be

sharing bunk space with Jimmy Hoffa.

Huh.

Uh -huh.

Are you sure? My own research turned up
none of this.

Okay, great.

And don't worry, I always protect my
sources.

Bye. Yes, this is what being a reporter
is all about, Miles. The pieces are

falling into place, and I'm about to
bust this thing wide open. You don't

how happy I am to hear you say that,
Murphy. With all the distractions of the

past few days, I was afraid you weren't
going to have your story on the KGB

ready in time. Oh, the KGB thing. I'll
try to squeeze in a few minutes for it

during lunch. Right now, I'm about to
nail the weasel who's been leaking my

to the tattler. What?

All right, taking into account the
information Ernie the janitor just gave

can eliminate...

Darlene in research, and Big Sue in
transportation.

This is what you've been doing for two
days? Making up Murphy's hit list?

It's a brilliant system, Miles. I've
evaluated everyone at FYI according to

three criteria.

Motive. Are they doing it for money, or
are they just plain mean?

Opportunity. Were they present when each
of the incidents supposedly occurred?

And mental stability.

Do they harbor petty jealousies, hold a
grudge, own a lot of cats? You know,

that sort of thing.

I can't believe this.

I know. It's beautiful, isn't it? Now,
I've narrowed it down to two suspects.

One is that cameraman I sort of yelled
at once.

You mean Steve? No, Steve's the one I
asked to stop parking in my spot. The

other one. Tom? No, Tom's the one I
questioned about taking the last shrimp

at the office Christmas party. You
screamed at him. Well, question, scream,

whatever. I'm talking about the
cameraman I spoke to loudly once. Brian?

Yes, Brian.

Henceforth to be referred to as suspect
number one.

Which brings me to suspect number two,
the mail boy, Ray.

Did you know he goes by the name of Bob?

His name is Bob!

You think Bob's the spy? How could it be
Bob?

How little you know about the criminal
mind. Fortunately, I have the perfect

plan. I'm going to plant a different
false story with each of my suspects,

then when next week's handler comes out,
the culprit will hang himself.

And you, Miles, are going to have the
honor of being a part of it.

Here's the stamp you asked for, Miss
Brown. Oh, well, thank you.

Bob? It's for a letter I wrote to Dick
Cheney somewhere in my tray. Would you

see if you can find it? It's very
important.

Sure, Miss Brown.

So, what are you saying, Miles?

You whine and dine and make crazy love
to me for a week, and now you walk in

here and tell me it's all over?

What?

Speechless, huh?

You should be.

Oh, I can understand why you'd want to
get involved.

It's not... Uncommon for a man your age
to look at a woman my age and be

intrigued by the May -July relationship.

Oh, well, I'm sorry it had to be this
way.

But thank you for the good times while
they lasted.

Full of amorous moments.

And I'll especially miss those intimate
nights where you call me your little

horsey boy.

I don't see the letter, Miss Brown.

You know what? I just remembered. I
didn't write it yet. So, thanks a lot

stopping by, Bob.

Okay, Miss Brown.

My little horsey boy!

I didn't get a time to repair anything,
okay?

You are out of your mind!

Do you know that?

Oh, God!

What if it is Bob? The picture will be
plastered all over the front page of the

Tattler! I was Murphy Brown's boy toy!

All right.

Now, I've baited my first trap.

Now to lay some cheese for... my other
rat.

How does this sound, Miles?

Brian, I've lost all my money at the
racetrack and my bookie's after me.

Could I stay at your place, hide out
just for a few days?

I could have been an actress.

I had offers, you know.

Oh, God.

My colon.

Jim, is he here yet? Did you see him?
No, Murphy. By the way, how... Have you

seen Frank? Did he come in yet? Is he
here?

Murphy, you asked me three times
already. No, I haven't seen Frank.

Miles! Don't even talk to me.

There he is. Frank, Frank, did you get
me a copy of the tabler, did you? I

tried, Murph. Honestly, I was in the
checkout line at the supermarket and I

just about to pick it up when that
gorgeous producer from Meet the Press

line behind me and I just couldn't do
it.

Here, have some AAA batteries.

Oh, well, thanks a lot, Frank. I've been
waiting all week for this. I should

have known not to send you. I'm lucky
you didn't come back with magic beans.

Eldon, what are you doing here?

I was down at Ed's Paints picking up a
gallon of Robin's Egg Blue, and this is

what I find.

A copy of the tabloid. Give me.

We don't, you know, read them. We just
mix paint on them.

It's a statement.

Aha! Here we go. Don't let it be Bob.
Please don't let it be Bob.

Murphy Brown and bohemian painter
cohabit in anchor woman's love nest.

What the hell is this?

Ed saw it first. He laughed so hard his
upper plate flew into the paint can.

Then he showed it to Shorty, who made
kissing noises at me. It was the most

embarrassing moment of my professional
life. She prefers to live in sin,

marriage the scud of any good
relationship.

My three -color chart failed. It's not
either of my suspects. You've got to do

something about this. I have a
reputation to protect.

I'm up for sure in Williams. Painter of
the year, you know.

Eldon, I don't have time to talk now. I
have a lot to do. I have to buy magic

markers to buy the new system.

Let's talk tonight.

Oh, what, we're at the love nest?

Bad enough my peers look at me funny
since I became a millionaire. Now they

think I'm sleeping with a client. Who
are you? What am I talking to you for?

Okay, everybody.

Let's not panic.

So it's not Bob or Brian. I knew it
wasn't. I should have just followed my

instincts.

I think it's Fran.

What? Or Dave. Dave?

It could be Earl in the mail room.
Corky, stop it. Don't encourage this.

He's right, Corky.

This sort of suspicion could only
undermine the trust we have in the

work with. Have you considered Becky the
third floor receptionist?

Okay, let's review.

We know it's someone with access to my
personal life. Check. Someone who on the

surface seems above suspicion. Check
again.

Someone to whom I once made a comment
about scud missiles and marriage.

What?

What are you saying? You think it's me?
You think I'm leaking information to the

Tattler? Well, no. Not intentionally,
Frank, but you know how your lips flap

when you're trying to impress a woman.
My lips? What about Corky? She's the one

with those friendly southern lips.
She'll talk to anything with a pulse.

Well, excuse me for being polite.

It's not Corky. Thank you. I thought of
her, but she doesn't use words like

bohemian.

What do you think, Murphy, that we're
all on your list of suspects?

Well, let's face it, Jim. An inadvertent
comment to the grocer, a cab driver,

Doris.

Can't you see that paranoia is creeping
in and making us say things we don't

really mean?

Now, let's just put a stop to this
before one of us said something we'll

I think it's Miles.

It is not me!

This isn't getting us

anywhere.

Now, I trust you guys, I do.

All I ask is that you try to be very
careful. Watch what you say to people.

Of course, it's not me.

Okay, buddy, where the hell do you think
you're going?

I'm going to have lunch. Yeah, right.
You expect me to believe that? You're

following me. Admit it. No, I just want
to have lunch. Get out of here. Get out.

Get out.

What the hell are you staring at?

We've been friends for a long time,
right? That's right, Phil.

And I'm sure you won't be offended when
I ask you to get the hell out of here.

You've been scaring people away for a
week.

Don't abandon me now, Phil. I have to
protect myself. Any one of these people

could be a spy for the Tattler.

Oh, that's what you said yesterday when
you locked Judge Suter in the men's

room. He was looking for information,
Phil. You heard him. You were here.

He asked if you were through with the
salt.

That's how they do it. They start with a
simple little question, and then the

next thing you know, they're out. I'm
asking you if you've ever seen Satan's

face in a head of lettuce. Murphy,
you're talking about a judge on the

Court? Great cover, huh?

You want to know something?

You're pretending to scare me.

Look at you.

You cut yourself off from everybody who
cares about you. You're screaming at

people on the street.

And I don't know how to say this, but
when he found Howard Hughes, he was

dressed just like that.

own mother believed I started drinking.
Who knows how many other people think

it's true. It's so frustrating.

I can crack the KGB like a walnut, but I
can't find the rat who's making my life

miserable right in my own backyard. Who
is it? Is it you?

Oh, gee, Murphy, we're in a recession.

I can't afford this.

I'm sorry, Bill. It's just that I live
in fear that anything I do will be

splashed across the headlines.

Well, I'm tired of being afraid.

Do you hear me?

You're under suspicion.

You're all under suspicion.

Like you, lady.

Where are you? Hiding your tape recorder
in your purse?

Let's just have a look, shall we?

Very clever.

It's not in your purse.

But you've got one of your ashtrays,
Phil. I want the gentleman's name. I

all your names before you leave here.

Where do you think you're going with
that camera bubble?

What exactly have you been taking
pictures of? Let's just have a look,

Those are honeymoon pictures.

Yeah,

right. I've seen better acting in
community theater.

Let's see. Come on. Make it snappy.
Let's go. Run, Allison. Run.

They're getting away.

Sure. Run out of here. Wait a minute.
Wait a minute.

Go ahead. Write your lousy stories, but
I'm warning you, I never forget a face.

Where's everybody going?

I've got your number. I've got all your
numbers. Who had the chicken salad

sandwich? Somebody ordered a steak with
fries.

I didn't want to own a restaurant
anyway.

All I really want is to go to the
Olympics and compete in the luge.

Oh, boy.

Now I can.

Everybody, I have an announcement to
make.

To the person who's selling information
to the Tattler, I... I would just like

to say, you win.

I give up.

I don't believe what I'm hearing.

You're going to let this despicable act
go unpunished? That's not like you. I'm

never going to find this spy, Jim.
Nobody ever finds them. That's just the

it is.

Right. Whoever it is is just too clever,
so we might as well stop looking.

Good, Mark, I think this is going to
work.

No, Frank, you don't understand.

I've now become what the Cattlers said I
was in the first place, totally out of

control. I've let their lies... come the
truth.

So it's over.

I'm getting on with my life.

Miss Brill, here's the latest edition of
the Tattler. Oh, no. Get that thing

away from me.

But you asked me to get you one. And now
she says she doesn't want it. Let's

show some flexibility here, Bob.

Want to be a mailboy the rest of your
life?

Pretending it's not there isn't the
answer.

If there's anything in that paper about
Murphy, I want you to read it.

Read it out loud so we can all laugh.

Come on, Murphy.

It's the only way to show the insider
that you can rise above this.

Go ahead, Miles.

Okay, if you think it'll help.

Let's see.

Alligator belt comes to life and bites
man in the stomach.

No, no, there's nothing here about...
Oh.

Oh.

Uh -oh.

Go on, Miles.

Read it. It's important.

Okay.

My dream marriage is a nightmare, says
FYI's Corky Sherwood. What?

Our insider reports Sherwood is so
unhappy with husband Will Forrest and

failed writing career, she's kicked him
out of the marriage bed. He had a sinus

infection! He was snorting...

find you.

And when I do...